High School of Demon Hunting

Chapter 2708 - 929: Exemption Clause

Zheng Qing was not a pessimist.He had never believed that in this World there were only bad people and worse people, but the voice coming from behind the bookshelf suddenly made him start to doubt his own stance a little.

The crow head on the bookshelf tilted slightly, as if urging the Warlock who had suddenly fallen silent.

Zheng Qing took a light breath and laboriously crawled out of that coffin. Because he had lost his Magic Power, his hands and feet were a bit weak at the moment, and he couldn’t muster any strength at all.

It seemed that cup of tea not only had a drowsing and anti-magic effect, it also made one’s limbs go limp.

He couldn’t help wondering if it would also cancel out the innate defensive abilities of his body; this thought flashed through his mind.

Walking around the bookshelf, Zheng Qing felt his view suddenly open up.

In front of him was a spacious laboratory, with several smooth, gleaming experiment tables arranged in neat rows—some empty, some occupied by experimental subjects lying there with tubes inserted all over their bodies, some of those subjects covered with glass cases, on whose surfaces clung unsettlingly fine tendrils.

Around the walls on all sides stood glass jars of various heights, all filled with Magical Creatures with ferocious appearances; the walls were plain, with no windows, and under the ceiling above each experiment table hung a shadowless lamp.

It was just that, in the whole large laboratory, there was only one figure.

Thomas was wearing a white robe, standing before an empty experiment table, arranging the instruments around it, connecting soft tubes of varying thickness to the devices and hanging soft bags similar to IV drips on the rack.

Zheng Qing noticed that behind Thomas there was an area enclosed by white curtains; judging by the length of the curtains, there was probably another experiment table inside.

Hearing the boy’s soft, limp footsteps.

The owner of the laboratory gave an order without even lifting his head: "Come give me a hand... wipe down the table, there was an Ogre lying on it earlier, it got a bit dirty."

Zheng Qing shuffled to the experiment table and indeed saw many black, oily stains remaining on the edges and corners of the surface.

Although he couldn’t summon a shred of Magic Power right now, he hadn’t lost a Wizard’s instinctive judgment; he could clearly feel the eerie Ogre aura seeping from between those stains.

Obviously not something left by a proper, legitimate Ogre.

"Who is this table for?" he asked, clinging to a sliver of hope.

"Of course, for you." Thomas still didn’t look up, but there was a trace of curiosity in his tone, as if wondering why he would ask such a stupid question.

The worst thing a sheep can imagine is probably the wolf fouling the river upstream; it’s hard for it to imagine that its ultimate Destiny is to be slit open and laid on the dining table, or to have its rear eaten out while it’s still alive.

What was even more depressing was that, judging from the situation at hand, it seemed this sheep still had to clean the table itself.

Looking at the metallic gleam reflected from the experiment table, Zheng Qing seemed to already see himself lying on it with tubes jabbed all over his body. His gaze slid past the sharp little knives of all sizes and lengths arranged on the rack at the side of the table; he couldn’t help averting his eyes, and asked the question he found most incomprehensible.

"Does what you’re doing count as harming me?"

He raised a hand and touched the place on his arm where he’d been injured last week, slightly emphasizing his tone: "...Previously I signed a ’risk-prohibition contract’ with you! I remember very clearly, that contract didn’t have any time limit! Which means that, apart from that Edge Academy project you mentioned, you can’t harm me anywhere else either!"

That contract had greatly influenced Zheng Qing’s judgment of Thomas.

The man in the white robe finally looked up and glanced at the boy.

"That contract has an exemption clause."

Thomas calmly reminded his young second-year-college colleague: "Next time before you sign anything, remember to read those inconspicuous little lines at the end of the main text one by one. Never assume a standard contract carries no risk, don’t think those bits of nonsense are meaningless. Precisely because it’s a standard contract, its wording is even more stringent... it will avoid any uncertainty."

Zheng Qing’s eyes went wide and round.

Instinctively, he reached for his belt, wanting to see what the hell that exemption clause was.

He simply forgot that his Grey Cloth Bag had already been taken away, and once again his hand came up empty.

A low, mocking laugh came from behind the white curtain—it was the same woman’s voice Zheng Qing had heard earlier in the coffin; this time he heard it more clearly, and was surprised to find that both voices sounded somewhat familiar—then an empty risk-prohibition contract drifted lightly out from behind the curtain, floating in front of Zheng Qing, and also brushing away the faint suspicion that had just risen in his mind.

The boy had no mood to wonder who was behind the curtain; he hurriedly flipped to the end of the contract.

But even after reading it several times over, those seemingly pointless clauses still read like pointless clauses, hollow to the extreme, leaving him unable to figure out where exactly he had gone wrong.

"No conducting illegal experiments, no causing physical harm to Party B, and so on—these clauses’ exemption clause is: magical experiments conducted under school supervision are excluded."

While organizing the experiment table, Thomas very kindly pointed out: "School supervision means that this human experiment is filed with a school-level institution and has the signature of that institution’s responsible person."

Hiss.

Zheng Qing drew in a sharp breath, looked around at the ferocious creatures and organs floating in those glass jars, and suddenly felt a chill along his back.

"What does ’school-level institution’ mean?" he asked back in a very low voice.

Thomas didn’t look up, and explained very patiently: "On the surface, First University has a total of ten first-level institutions: four colleges, four Research Institutes, the School Works Committee, and the Professor Joint Meeting... I know what you’re thinking, but I advise you not to casually suspect any of the above."

Zheng Qing felt his train of thought become clearer than ever.

"Does the Edge Academy count as a first-level institution?" he asked softly in return.

Thomas was silent for a few seconds before he slowly spoke: "Ah... right, I almost forgot, you’re an assistant from Edge, and there’s also the Edge Academy... it should also count as one of the school’s first-level institutions, I suppose. I don’t know much about the new academy."

When talking about this new academy, his wording was somewhat vague.

Zheng Qing lowered his head and began counting on his fingers.

"The heads of the four old colleges are deans, the four Research Institutes also have deans, then there’s the chair of the Professor Joint Meeting, and the director of the School Works Committee, that’s ten in total." Counting up to this point, he hesitated a moment, then looked up again: "Who’s in charge of Edge Academy? Korma or Professor Montreya?"

The white curtain not far away quivered slightly.

Thomas’s own hands, however, were extremely steady; his motions in plugging in the soft tubes didn’t deviate in the slightest.

"...No idea."

He gave a very slight shake of his head, without further speculation, merely reiterating: "Same as before, I advise you not to casually suspect any of the above."

Zheng Qing ignored him.

He simply skipped over this topic: "...Last time you took my flesh and blood, was it really to sign me up for the Edge Academy special project?"

"That’s right... and you’ve already successfully made it onto the list of candidates." This time, Thomas answered in a flash.