Anaxagoras

After enjoying the grand brawl among the court officials, the Skyscreen finally showed the scene Xu Feng wanted to see. Professor Anaxagoras was one of the Seven Sages of the Grove of Epiphany and the founder of the School of Intellect Seeds. He was a true genius—and a true teacher.

He was not someone like Yu Xiaogang, a fraud living off a stolen reputation, could even hope to compare himself to. Even if Anaxagoras had only studied Martial Souls briefly, he would certainly have grasped their essence completely, and he immediately began mocking him.

Even so, Anaxagoras was one of the finest teachers. Presumably, that was why his future self had chosen him to teach his son.

"Trash! Idiot! A guy like you thinks he deserves to be called a master?!"

Every word Anaxa spoke struck Yu Xiaogang squarely in the face. He looked down at the flushed, panting middle-aged man before him.

Anaxa saw through his little scheme at a glance. He merely wanted to borrow the so-called title of master so he could turn those gifted students into his test subjects.

If not for the good restraint he had cultivated over the years, barely holding down his fury, he would have blasted Yu Xiaogang's head into a sieve long ago.

"Y-You! You!"

Yu Xiaogang trembled with rage, pointing at Anaxa. His lips quivered for a long time, yet those were the only two words he managed to force out.

He had never suffered such humiliation. He was a theoretical master, a theoretical master personally acknowledged by Spirit Hall. Never—never had anyone dared curse him to his face like this.

"What do you mean, 'you'?! Your theories are complete nonsense from beginning to end! Come on, I'll read them out one by one and let everyone here hear what