Chapter 5: Teacher, Come Here—Let Me Teach You a Lesson

"Chen Yufeng, how dare you openly defy your teacher? Do you still have any semblance of a student’s demeanor?"

Zheng Mingjie strode up to Chen Yufeng, his eyes blazing with fury.

"And do you have any semblance of a teacher’s dignity?"

Chen Yufeng stood his ground, undaunted, raising his voice in response: "Have you abided by the Teachers’ Code? The first rule is to love and care for your students, to teach with encouragement and praise as the principal method."

"You—"

"You what? You do care for your students, but only for those with wealthy families, those who give you gifts, right? As for us poor students, when have you ever done anything but lash out at us with insults?"

"The third rule: Teachers are to guide students with correct values, and to influence them by their noble conduct, setting themselves as paragons of virtue. Have you done that? You forbid us from smoking, but haven’t you yourself smoked during class when you couldn’t resist the urge? What kind of example is that?"

It was true that Zheng Mingjie, when craving a cigarette, would sometimes sneak one during students’ self-study periods—a habit for which the principal had already warned him several times. But this was the first time a student had ever confronted him about it so brazenly.

"You tell us not to date, yet when wealthy students are involved, you give them only a perfunctory warning, while us poor students are punished to the utmost. Why the double standard?"

"The seventh rule: Teachers must maintain proper relations with students, accept neither invitations nor gifts, and uphold the dignity of their calling. Can you honestly say you haven’t accepted any presents from those privileged students?"

Chen Yufeng’s words rang out with unwavering conviction, showing no regard for anyone’s pride. Every sentence cut deep—a verbal onslaught that left the entire class stunned and awed by his courage.

"You think you can teach me how to do my job?"

Zheng Mingjie’s rage boiled over. He could never have imagined that this usually silent, submissive student would dare challenge him so publicly today. Where was his authority as a homeroom teacher now?

Unable to contain himself any longer, he raised his hand, aiming a slap at Chen Yufeng’s face, intending to silence this insolent boy before dealing with the aftermath. Yet before his palm could land, Chen Yufeng quickly retreated several steps, clutched his own face, and cried out, "Ow! That hurts! It’s killing me! The homeroom teacher hit me! The homeroom teacher hit me!"

"You little brat, trying to frame me now?"

Seething with frustration, Zheng Mingjie lifted a foot to kick him. But just as he raised his leg, a commanding voice echoed through the room: "Zheng Mingjie, what do you think you’re doing? Is this how you educate your students?"

At the sound of that voice, Zheng Mingjie’s heart sank. Damn it, he’d been caught—by the principal, no less.

The newcomer was indeed Principal Qin Yiran.

"Principal, I—"

Zheng Mingjie tried to explain, but no words would come. How could he say that his slap hadn’t landed, that his kick hadn’t connected? Physical discipline was strictly forbidden by school policy.

Chen Yufeng, meanwhile, felt a surge of satisfaction at seeing his scheme succeed. He quickly addressed the principal: "Sir, you arrived just in time. Any later, and I’d be headed for the emergency room. I’d like to report that the homeroom teacher has assaulted me again—fists and feet both. My ears are still ringing; I fear they’re damaged. My head is spinning—who knows if I have a concussion? I think I should go to the hospital for a CT scan, a full body check, maybe an MRI. Oh, I feel faint..."

He swayed theatrically, as if about to collapse.

"Enough with your antics. Do you think I don’t know what you’re like?" Principal Qin scolded him on the spot, clearly having witnessed the whole incident.

Seeing this, Zheng Mingjie felt a secret joy and seized the chance to flatter the principal. "Sir, your wisdom and authority are truly unparalleled—"

"That’s enough. Follow me to the office," Qin Yiran cut him off sternly, his expression so grave that Zheng Mingjie dared not utter another word. His attempt at flattery had backfired.

Before leaving, Qin Yiran turned to Chen Yufeng and said seriously, "If you can’t score over two hundred on the next mock exam, you’d better go with your parents to the construction site and start lugging bricks. It’s more realistic for you to try becoming a foreman early on."

"Sir, you may not know," Chen Yufeng replied with studied seriousness. "Let me put it this way: suppose you had a top student from Peking University, but kept making him do kindergarten homework—how do you think he’d feel?"

"What do you mean?"

"Isn’t it obvious? These test papers are like kindergarten homework to me. I’m worried they’ll lower my IQ, so I usually can’t be bothered to do them."

"What did you say? Say that again?"

Qin Yiran thought he’d misheard. The exams were so childish, they were like kindergarten assignments? He couldn’t be bothered, for fear of lowering his IQ?

He was well aware of this student’s reputation. Where did Chen Yufeng get the nerve to boast like this?

Nor was he alone in his reaction. Homeroom teacher Zheng Mingjie, English teacher Zheng Ying, and every student in Class Seven stared at Chen Yufeng as if he’d lost his mind, their faces full of contempt.

Had this clown forgotten to take his medication today?

It was one thing to have poor grades, but to make such shameless excuses—did he have no sense of shame at all? He spoke as if he were some great scholar. Could he even recognize all the letters of the alphabet?

Given Chen Yufeng’s usual performance, their reactions were only natural.

Previously, of course, he would never have dared to speak so wildly—especially in front of the principal. But now, he had just sensed something extraordinary. There was indeed a mysterious compass in his mind. Though the earlier incident—showing off before the whole school—had been a virtual illusion, the divine compass was real, and its features seemed genuine as well.

He skimmed the divine marketplace with his mind. There were options like Scholar Possession and Genius Possession, with various grades and levels. The description of even the lowest-level Scholar Possession left Chen Yufeng utterly astonished: mastery of all subjects on Earth—language, English, math, biology, physics, chemistry, history…

All things known, all things understood.

The analogy was simple: Newton, Watt, Edison, Einstein—those titans of scientific history—barely reached the threshold of a beginner-level scholar.

If such legendary figures were only entry-level, what heights could a master scholar or a genius attain? The thought was staggering, almost beyond belief.

Even Chen Yufeng remained skeptical.

"You idiot, believe it or don’t—I don’t care!" The little fairy’s voice rang out in his mind, blunt as ever.

"No, no, I believe you! How could I not? But you’re not going to trick me again, are you?"

He’d been duped badly before—promised that the principal would praise and admire him in public, that he’d be able to show off before all the teachers and students. But it had just been a virtual illusion for the thrill of it. What was the point of that? He’d made a fool of himself for nothing. Still, things had come this far, and though he had his doubts, he had little choice but to believe.

"Fine, then give me Scholar Possession for ten minutes—let me see what it’s like," he said.

The little fairy added, "Think carefully: do you want the virtual illusion to become reality, or do you want Scholar Possession? I can only help you for free once."

"Uh..."

Chen Yufeng thought for a moment. The virtual illusion was exciting for showing off, but he’d already experienced it once; repeating it would be pointless, and perhaps too exaggerated. Scholar Possession was the more sensible option—it would let him show off, but not too outrageously.

In the end, he chose Scholar Possession for ten minutes.