Zheng Qing had noticed a problem.
Whether it was Mr. Wu, Professor Yao, Old Man Garcia, who taught Merfolk Language, Old Man Vernal from the School Labor Committee, Elder Attar of Wusa City's temple, or any of the others, whenever these elderly wizards wanted to say something, they always liked to wander far off topic and speak in cryptic, riddle-like phrases that left people guessing for ages.
The younger generation of wizards liked to call this phenomenon "The Last Echo of Old-School Wizards," because this riddle-based style of communication had once been widespread when mysticism held the dominant position in the Magic World.
It was as if any wizard who spoke too plainly would destroy certain magical concepts founded on mystical principles.
However, as Modern Magic Theory continued to develop, traditional mystical views were gradually fading away. Young wizards preferred brisk, straightforward communication. Only some older wizards, constrained by deeply ingrained habits, still retained traces of their younger selves.
At that moment, before the ivory-colored podium, the young wizards' patience had gradually been exhausted by Elder Attar.
"Then what do you mean by pointing up there?"
This time, it was still Zhang Jixin, using the crudest and simplest method to break Old Man Atal's riddle. "Is there a door on the temple roof leading back to reality?"
It was certainly a fresh idea. Zheng Qing had never considered that possibility.
Considering there was a tall white tower above the dome, perhaps there really was a door inside it that could allow the young wizards to return to school.
The old man lowered his finger, somewhat displeased.
"If you were children of Atlas, you would have understood what I meant long ago." He muttered in a vague voice, glancing upward. "I merely wanted you to broaden your minds... You must learn