Professor Yao's education had effectively reined in Zheng Qing's heart, which had been gradually slipping toward indulgence.
From Sunday night all the way through Thursday, the young publicly funded student wore a gloomy expression. Even the Christmas Eve revelry on Wednesday night failed to lift his spirits much.
Of course, the reason Zheng Qing's mood was still so terrible on Wednesday night might not have been entirely due to Old Yao's lesson a few days earlier—in the evening's masquerade ball, the Count Dracula he had dressed up as was chased and beaten by several real Vampires. In the end, the young publicly funded student was left dangling by his ankles and thrown into Linzhong Lake.
Even Xiao Xiao thought Zheng Qing had brought it entirely upon himself.
Vampires had always been one of the most powerful representatives among the Under the Moon Aristocrats. Even across the entire Wizarding World, there were few forces capable of going toe-to-toe with them. Those more powerful than them, such as the orthodox wizards, lacked their unity; those weaker than them, such as Werewolves and ghosts, certainly wouldn't casually stroke a tiger's whiskers.
Having grown up in the Bading World, Zheng Qing was naturally insensitive to such matters. He had dared to dress up as the Count Dracula from Bram Stoker's Dracula—wearing a bright red robe, with stiff, unusually long fingers and what looked like two round buns tied atop his head—and then swagger around the entire campus, flaunting himself.
The young publicly funded student had no idea that, apart from Sir Friedman and Matthew, First University was also home to a large group of pure-blood and near-pure-blood Vampire students. Most of them could not tolerate the young wizard's nearly blasphemous behavior toward their ancestors.
"It was just a joke!" During Potions Class on Thursday