He Was a Genius

"Really? Mr. Bo certainly knows how to joke."

At the mention of his field of expertise, the Dean's expression began to falter. He strode quickly to the desk, his face turning extreme and fanatical. Then, with overwhelming displeasure in his voice, he abruptly raised his head. "This is the greatest experiment to date! And you actually call it impractical."

Bo Shuo watched the Dean's agitation coldly, his Deep Purple Eyes as frigid as floating ice.

Meeting that gaze felt as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over him. The Dean regained a measure of reason and wanted to change the subject to smooth things over.

After all, Bo Shuo was still one of the people he admired most. He was willing to forgive Bo Shuo's reckless words this once.

The Dean hated it most when others passed judgment on his research. This was the work he had pursued for decades; denying this research was equivalent to denying the Dean himself.

But before he could speak, he heard Bo Shuo's next words.

They were even more grating.

"Perhaps you shouldn't be called a Madman. You should be called an idiot. And this experiment is idiotic beyond measure." Bo Shuo casually tossed the two sheets of paper aside, as if they were nothing but shoddy trash in his eyes. His words were excessively harsh.

The White Paper drifted lightly to the floor. The cold, pale gleam reflected from it turned the Dean's Eyes blood-red. He could not believe what he had just heard. Raising his head, his expression suddenly darkened.

Even the smile that had lingered on his Lips instantly turned cold.

The once-kind mask was abruptly torn apart, Ghost Qi seeping from every crack. Expressionless, the Dean looked at Bo Shuo and said each word distinctly, "Mr. Bo, please take back those words. I'll pretend I didn't hear them this time."

In an instant, the atmosphere froze.

A startling killing intent spread through the room.

Even Xu Yi and the other person, standing several meters away from the Dean, felt as though they could barely breathe.

This was no joke. He was a Ghost above D-rank. If he flew into a rage here, they would all meet a Tragic Death.

And this concerned medicine. Bo Shuo's identity card merely listed him as a doctor; whether he actually knew medicine was still unclear. Now that he had angered the Dean, there would not even be a place to bury him.

An invisible pressure brought Cold Sweat to their foreheads. It felt as though this force was crushing their spines.

At the center of that pressure, the Youth watched coldly. Facing the Dean, who looked as ferocious as an Evil Ghost, the curve of his Lips instead lifted.

It was a perfect smile, neither too broad nor too slight, seemingly full of courtesy. Yet in the Dean's Eyes, it was naked mockery.

Faced with the Dean's threat, Bo Shuo not only refused to yield, but went a step further. Every word plucked at the Dean's nerves.

"This is nothing but trash."

Bo Shuo gave a soft scoff and met the Dean's predatory gaze head-on. He raised his head slightly, Pitch Black strands of hair sliding against his fair cheek. The narrow corners of his Eyes tilted upward, carrying an edge sharp enough to cut through a person.

A breeze that had drifted in from the doorway scattered the steam above the tea. As the temperature in the room fell, the liquid in the cup even began to freeze.

Then—bang!

It shattered across the floor, cup and all.

The Dean looked at the Youth before him, so heedless of Life and Death. His remaining reason had been compressed into a taut thread that would snap crisply with the slightest provocation. Violence gathered between his brows, and he resembled a wild beast ready to devour someone.

Yet Bo Shuo completely ignored it. In his Eyes, the Dean's anger was like a dead leaf falling from a tree, something that would drop with the lightest brush. He gave another contemptuous snort. "Items nine and ten are completely wrong. There was an error in checking the initial data..."

The words caught the Dean entirely off guard. The reason concealed by his fury gradually began to return. When he realized that Bo Shuo was discussing his experimental data, his expression froze.

They had just been in a Tense Standoff, and now they were talking about his experimental data? Wasn't that far too abrupt?

And an "error"? How could that be possible?

How could there be an error in his experimental data? This was the optimal solution he had obtained after checking it countless times.

The Dean looked at Bo Shuo, but the rebuttal in his throat would not come out. Bo Shuo's tone was simply too certain—or rather, it was not certainty at all. He sounded as if he were stating an established fact, leaving no room for refutation or defense.

But how could that be possible? How could his experiment be wrong? He had spent decades on this research. If there was an error, wouldn't all his efforts over those decades have been wasted?

"Do you know what you're saying?" The Dean's question was sharp. His anger had been interrupted and diminished by half, but his irritation was plain to see.

That did not mean Bo Shuo's situation had become safer. On the contrary, it was even more dangerous. If he said one wrong thing next, the Dean would immediately strike and kill him.

In a corner no one could see, Bo Shuo's hand trembled. He was not as composed as he appeared. Facing the Dean head-on, he naturally bore immense pressure.

But he could not retreat. First, he could not break character. Second, against a monster like the Dean, he could only suppress him through sheer momentum. The moment he gave even an inch, he would be chewed up without even bones left behind.