Chapter 708: A Lesson in Limits

This question left Lu Xin stunned on the spot.

Countless memories, along with those vivid sensations, flashed through his mind.

Memories of life at the orphanage—trying to understand everything, feeling pain for the first time, experiencing guilt, struggling to emulate others, and surviving those bleak, confused days until his perceptions gradually sharpened…

“The problem with other people’s strength is knowing how to break their limits and reach the Fifth Stage.”

Professor Bai gently cautioned, “You were already at the Fifth Stage, even possessing aspects that surpass it. All you need is a deeper understanding of the Fifth Stage and to further refine your mental core.”

“Remember, everyone has their own mental core.”

“As long as your mental core is strong and unwavering, you will never collapse and will be capable of wielding even greater power.”

“The mental core is our only bulwark against contamination.”

“And divinity, too, is a kind of contamination.”

“So…”

He smiled, gently patting Lu Xin’s shoulder as his eyes shone with encouragement: “Never be afraid. Don’t fear that a mightier divinity will ruin your life, nor that one day you will become a stranger to yourself. And don’t worry that your pursuit of divinity might cost you this hard-won clarity of humanity…”

“Humanity and divinity don’t diminish each other—they complement one another.”

“Only a greater humanity can bear the weight of boundless divine power…”

“…”

“…”

Professor Bai’s words stirred an instant, overwhelming confusion in Lu Xin before a sudden clarity emerged.

A strange feeling began to well up inside him.

It was as if Professor Bai had truly seen into his soul, uncovering the deep-rooted bewilderment that even he had once been unable to penetrate. But at that moment, his words slowly began to lift the fog.

Was it really that simple?

Yes.

Some truths lie beyond our own understanding.

Yet when someone else explains them, clarity strikes immediately—it truly is so.

A wrong answer simply fails to resonate.

When Professor Bai patted his shoulder and sent him an encouraging glance, Lu Xin felt an unprecedented surge of emotion—as if all his lifelong struggles had finally been acknowledged, as if someone had finally understood the deep sorrow and confusion he had long kept to himself, discussing it with him with a smile…

At that moment, his eyes grew slightly moist.

“…”

“…”

“Everyone, today I have gathered you here to speak only these words.”

Amid Lu Xin’s mixed feelings of emotion and deep thought, Professor Bai returned to the podium and looked out over the auditorium. Nodding slightly, he said, “I know these matters might plunge you into panic, confusion, or even make you doubt your worth—but I hope you adjust quickly and search for the truth beneath the Red Moon.”

“In the three prophecies left by that genius researcher, it was foretold that God would not spare the remaining souls. Once certain changes begin, there is no turning back—like a flood that won’t divert its course just because ants offer their prayers…”

“But more importantly, I want you all to understand that before the flood comes, we will never surrender—not even for a second…”

“I believe that our distorted world under the Red Moon will eventually be graced by hope.”

“For that, we willingly sacrifice everything.”

“…”

After saying this, he gently closed the handout on the podium.

Then, glancing at Lu Xin with a nod, he turned and slowly left the auditorium.

Only once his figure completely disappeared from the hall did someone finally grasp his message amid the commotion.

One excited individual stood up and bowed lightly toward the door.

Soon, more people arose, all bowing toward the exit.

Even though his words felt heavy and oppressive,

even though he had merely pointed out the essence of a few issues,

those researchers understood the immense value of the lesson just shared.

Silently… so silently…

Among the bowing crowd, Lu Xin suddenly snapped back to attention.

He sprang to his feet but did not bow; instead, his mind replayed every word Professor Bai had uttered, every expression on his face, and that warm, admiring look in his eyes.

“Professor Bai…”

He suddenly trembled as he spoke, “Does Professor Bai usually smoke?”

His voice rang out, drawing puzzled looks from many.

“He smokes…”

Someone responded quickly—Han Bing answered, “He occasionally uses a pipe to smoke specially made cigar tobacco.”

“No, not a pipe…”

Lu Xin hurriedly interjected, “I mean those ordinary, inferior cigarettes…”

His anxious expression and question left many in a state of confusion.

Several shook their heads, “That can’t be—Professor Bai’s tastes have always been refined…”

Lu Xin got his answer.

And then it all fell into place: if Professor Bai didn’t smoke such inferior cigarettes, what about that overpowering, familiar whiff of cheap tobacco when he had patted his shoulder and smiled at him just moments ago?

What about that familiar gaze and those words of encouragement?

“Whoosh!”

In the eyes of those around him, Lu Xin suddenly convulsed as if struck by electricity—his body twisting unnaturally as he bolted out of the auditorium like a ghost.

With his sister absent and no time to wait for her, his desperate urgency propelled him forward—his speed nearly matching the moment when she would have reached out to help him—until he burst out of the hall in an instant.

He darted past the kids, raced to a nearby building wall, and, like a spider, swiftly dashed through several school blocks to the academy’s main gate, his gaze fixed on its distant outline…

He saw Professor Bai sitting on the edge of a flowerbed, lightly tapping his head.

At the same time, outside the academy’s main gate, a vehicle slowly started and turned into an alley.

“Clap, clap, clap.”

Lu Xin leaped from a tall building, landing on his feet as his hands propelled him forward. Before the armed guards at the academy gate could react, he surged out and jumped onto the wall beside the alley.

Inside, however, it was empty—a dead end with nothing in sight.

Moments ago a vehicle had clearly entered, but now it was gone without a trace—not even a shadow remained.

“…”

“…”

Lu Xin stood dumbfounded in that alley for a long moment before slowly coming to a stop.

Under the shocked gaze of the armed guards, he dejectedly and confusedly made his way back to the academy, approaching Professor Bai.

At that moment, Professor Bai appeared to be in pain, lightly pounding his forehead while his hands trembled incessantly.

The bloodshot veins in his eyes seemed even more pronounced, yet the stern, piercing aura from his earlier lecture had vanished. Standing by his side, Lu Xin could feel his mental power gradually easing from its chaotic state.

“You…”

Noticing Lu Xin’s approach, he slightly raised his head and, in a hoarse voice, asked, “You noticed?”

Lu Xin, still dazed, nodded slowly and said, “What you said in the lecture—was it really him?”

“Yes.”

Professor Bai shook his head vigorously; his usually neat hair now appeared somewhat disheveled.

There was an unmistakable undercurrent of lingering terror in his voice:

“The defector from the Moon Eclipse Research Institute—the old Orphanage Director, Wang Jingyun—unexpectedly arrived in Qinggang. He came straight to my office, insisting that now was not the time for philosophy, but that he should teach me this lesson…”

“And despite all my preparations for emergencies, I couldn’t bring myself to refuse him…”

“…”

Even though Lu Xin had suspected it, hearing Professor Bai’s admission sent a harsh chill through him.

Yes…

If it weren’t for the Old Director, how could there be such a strong whiff of cheap tobacco clinging to him?

If it weren’t for the Old Director, how could those profound words of guidance have been uttered?

If it weren’t for the Old Director, how could he have looked at him with those eyes?

But why did he suddenly appear in Qinggang?

Was it merely to give him this lesson?

“…”

“…”

At the same time, an ordinary Jeep was quietly making its way along a small road in the wilderness outside Qinggang.

Behind the wheel was a tattooed woman wearing a crop top, with a gruesome scar circling her waist. In the back seat sat an old man in a Zhongshan suit, gently massaging his forehead as he slowly pulled out a cigarette.

“Stop smoking.”

The woman abruptly slammed the steering wheel in anger, exclaiming, “The smell is too overpowering—don’t you know?”

The old man paused briefly, then chuckled as he carefully stored the cigarette back in its box.

But his restraint did nothing to ease the woman’s anger. Instead, she glared fiercely into the rearview mirror and, clenching her teeth, said, “You drove all this way—even though you know so many people, and even monsters, are after you—and risked exposing your identity just to come here and give him this lesson?”

The old man’s face softened into a calm smile.

After a moment he softly said, “It was worth it.”

“You…”

The woman, nearly losing control, shouted in anger, “Are you so afraid that he won’t pass the next trial?”

The old man silently gazed out the car window at the sky over Qinggang and said, “He is truly different from you all.”

“He has borne such a burden to survive until now—it has not been an easy journey.”

“So before the trial begins, I arranged a little extra help for him to point him in the right direction. It’s a reward he truly deserves.”