Dark Wizard: Rise! My undead army!

High above the dome of the teleportation hall, a dark red light pattern extended downwards along the cracks in the stone wall.

That was a warning signal issued by the tower spirit before activating the defensive magic array.

Meanwhile, to prevent Lynn from escaping or receiving outside support, the Tower Spirit forcibly shut down all the teleportation arrays in the teleportation zone.

Some wizards who were about to be teleported away were "bounced" out and could only helplessly turn around to check the situation.

What's going on? Why all this fuss?

Even the academy's "guardian beast" has descended; could it be that other forces have invaded?

After analyzing it, Lynn turned his attention to the "Abyss Watcher" in front of him.

This thing is made up of three kinds of abyssal creatures. It's unclear whether it was modified before it was born and then turned into an undead creature, or whether it was combined after death.

Regardless of how it was formed, reaching the True Spirit level is like a heifer taking a plane – incredibly awesome!

This should be the spirit of Dean Azman, left to guard the top of the tower, and will only be activated when a powerful Stigmata-level threat appears within the academy.

Lynn shrugged at the "Abyss Watcher," indicating that he was giving up.

The Night Watcher of the Abyss ignored him, still watching Lynn intently, ready to unleash his fury if he made any unusual move.

Lynn certainly wouldn't seek death.

Since the academy has mobilized True Spirit level cultivators, there's no need to resist; we might as well just surrender.

Since I'm in the right, the academy can't just kill me, right?

Even bad guys have to leave behind a few last words, right?

Lynn stood still.

At the same time, several figures appeared one after another at the entrances around the teleportation hall, some walking out from the side doors and others appearing from the end of the corridor.

Among those figures were familiar faces: the Fear Saint Mark, the Shadow Woman, the Ice Saint Mark, the Wind and Thunder Wings, and several Saint Mark-level mentors he had met before.

Their positions were perfectly coordinated, forming a loose encirclement around the teleportation hall.

They then released their own "stigmata," and all the stigmata connected together, subtly surrounding the entire teleportation area.

Lynn stared at the inescapable trap aimed at him and simply remained rooted to the spot, making no move.

Seeing that both sides had set up their battle formations, the apprentices in the teleportation zone quickly dispersed, keeping a safe distance from Lynn, for fear of being caught in the crossfire.

However, the area had been completely sealed off, so they had no way to leave and could only find a place to hide.

If a fight really breaks out, there will be no one to protect them, and their deaths will be in vain.

This is also the tragedy of ordinary people.

The consequences of a major war could wipe out their lives.

They retreated to the edge of the wall; some leaned against the wall, while others retreated to the corner of the corridor.

As for the lower-level formal wizards, they didn't go far. They gathered together and stood at a distance, looking at the center of the teleportation area with tense expressions.

Their gathering together makes sense; they are much smarter than those apprentices who hide and run away.

Firstly, it provides psychological comfort. People have a herd mentality, and feeling more at ease when there are many people around makes them feel more secure.

Secondly, if they encounter any aftershocks, these wizards can join forces to resist them, so they won't be instantly killed by the aftershocks.

Thirdly, the gathering of so many low-level formal wizards is a considerable asset; if they were to encounter danger, the academy would certainly step in to rescue them.

Some apprentices wanted to join the group, but the wizards tacitly excluded them.

Apprentices are of little value; they don't contribute much when they join, and instead make the organization bloated, making it difficult to defend against the aftermath.

Moreover, having more people makes them easier targets.

At this moment, a low murmur arose from the crowd, the focus of which was Lynn, who was surrounded in the middle.

An apprentice standing near the wall lowered his voice and said to the person next to him, "Look at that one in the middle, wearing a purple robe, doesn't he look like a Saintly Mark?"

The person next to him lowered their voice and added:

"Wow—such a big commotion! Have you ever seen a Saint return to the academy surrounded by Saints? What did this lord do wrong? Something's not right with this commotion."

The other person replied, "I recognize the person who's been surrounded; it's Lynn, the Lord of All Things, who was newly promoted to Sainthood over half a year ago!"

"Hey! It's him! The Dean even showed up at the promotion banquet and praised him."

"Logically speaking, this kind of person should be the pride of the academy, so why are the academy's leaders treating him like an enemy?"

Next to them, a wizard apprentice dressed in a brown robe peeked out:

"I heard that something happened at the academy a few days ago. Apparently, a holy stigma fell, and the nameplate returned to the academy."

"Things have been a bit chaotic lately; we haven't been able to contact Instructor Marfa for several days."

"Do you think...it might be related to Lord Lynn?"

The person in front glared at him: "Don't talk nonsense, where did you hear that from?"

The man chuckled and said, "Then don't worry about it. You'll find out how accurate it is in a bit."

...

Just then, a familiar and warm voice came from not far behind him:

"Lynn, welcome back. Please do not resist."

Lynn turned his head and saw Cersei walk in through the side door of the teleportation hall.

She slipped through the gaps between the retreating apprentices and stopped about ten paces away from Lynn, seemingly unafraid of being suddenly attacked.

"Lynn, you are suspected of killing Marfa, the chief instructor of the Soul Department. Come with us first."

These words caused an uproar among the wizards and apprentices watching.

They glanced at Lynn, who looked harmless, with disbelief.

Chief Marfa was killed by this kid?!

The apprentices standing by the wall exchanged glances, all seeing the shock in each other's eyes, before their gazes all fell on Lynn.

At that moment, a voice came from the crowd; it was the brown-robed apprentice who had just "prophesied" the connection between Lynn and Marfa.

His tone was tinged with barely suppressed smugness: "See? What did I tell you?"

The speaker pushed his way into the crowd, his chin slightly raised:

"I just said there was a problem with the Soul Department. We haven't been able to contact Instructor Marfa for days. I'm afraid he was killed by Lord Lynn. You didn't believe me."

The person next to him turned and glanced at him: "You just said 'it seems to be related to Lord Lynn,' not that he was killed by Lord Lynn."

"Isn't that the same thing? Anyway, I guessed right." He paused, then lowered his voice:

"Master Marfa is a veteran Saint Mark, the top student in the Soul Department. How could he be taken down by a newly promoted Saint Mark? Just how ruthless is this kid?"

An apprentice in a blue robe chimed in:

"The point isn't how he killed him, but why he killed him. Instructor Marfa is a core figure in the academy; how could a Saintly Mark kill a colleague for no reason?"

He paused for a moment: "Unless... something happened between the two of them."

"Do you think... it could be a crime of passion?"

Upon hearing this, the surrounding apprentices' expressions changed drastically, and they scattered in a huff, looking as if they didn't recognize this person.

What a joke! You're just making things up about Saint Seiya. If a real fight breaks out, you'll be the first one they kill!

Realizing he had spoken out of turn, the man turned pale and quickly covered his face as he fled to another location.

No matter where he fled, the people around him scattered in a panic, even the formal wizards.

Nobody complains about living too long.