At last, the longest two minutes in the history of the Demon King’s Gifted Theater came to an end.
Lan Qi and the Poet of Great Love finally finished their performance.
On stage, everything fell silent again.
The Poet of Great Love turned back toward Lan Qi with a sly smile, then, content, rested his gaze upon him once more.
Meanwhile, in the audience, the fusion of hellish sound had already been completed—as if it would never stop reverberating.
Lan Qi rose from the piano and stepped to the center of the stage. Bathed in the spotlight, his figure stood solitary and transcendent. The air itself still seemed to echo with the traces of that earth-shattering performance.
Amidst the lingering notes and singing, Lan Qi slowly raised his hand, bowed his head, and gave the audience a deep bow.
It was the bow of an artist—sincere, grateful, and humble.
“Thank you, fellow students and esteemed judges, for your recognition.”
What answered him was another wave of deafening voices.——
“Stop now, Lan Qi… turn back while you can still preserve your humanity…”
Huperion buried her face in her hands, leaning against the hard back of her chair like a ship battered by storms that had at last made harbor.
Her voice was weary to the extreme, her soul feeling as though it had been endlessly scourged. That long, torturous performance still haunted her heart.
If not for her prior experience with the Poet of Great Love—and her deliberate preparations to guard her spirit—she too might have been trapped in that deathly cycle, unable to escape!
At the side of the stage—
The silver-haired head of the Music Department, who had been hosting, now appeared disheveled, as if he had just stumbled out of a hurricane. His face was pale; he had witnessed a calamity.
Below the stage, the four music mentors and demon students lay collapsed, some twitching in their chairs, others screaming in hoarse, piercing cries. Their faces twisted, they had completely lost their minds, trapped in hell with no way out.
Now, in this Demon King’s Gifted Theater, besides Lan Qi, only the Music Department Head—highest in rank, and bearer of the academy’s strongest resistance to sound-based magic—remained standing.
“Teacher, are you all right?”
Seeing the condition of the department head, Lan Qi hurried over to support him.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
The department head pushed away Lan Qi’s hand. His voice trembled slightly, but his resolve was unshaken.
As the head of the Music Department, if he couldn’t withstand even a student’s performance, he’d lose face before the high-ranking demon nobles!
Lan Qi seemed to recognize his pride, and nodded.
“Then… may I ask, did I earn the recognition of the mentors this time?”
His gaze swept toward the four music mentors, now lost in delirium, before turning back sincerely to the department head.
“…”
The department head clenched his teeth, his eyes darting between Lan Qi and the four incapacitated mentors. For a long time, he could not speak. His expression grew increasingly complicated until, at last, he admitted:
“According to the oath the four mentors swore to the Demon King before the performance… you are entitled to their full recognition.”
Finally, he acknowledged it, placing four credit tokens into Lan Qi’s hand.
His voice was hoarse, his words filled with reluctant acceptance.
One way or another—
That performance, enough to be recorded in the annals of demon musical history, though not without its… accidents, had achieved an effect unparalleled. The nobles of the demon realm would surely shower it with praise.
It was just… a bit hard on the students and teachers.
“Give me your student ID.”
The department head continued.
Since he had presided over this grand performance for the demon nobles and made his promise, he would not renege.
Hearing this, Lan Qi fished around in his pocket and quickly produced a black metal card, handing it over.
The department head left the stage through a side door.
Over ten minutes later, he returned. Besides Lan Qi’s student ID, he now held a delicate little nameplate and a silver-glossed card.
“This nameplate signifies your status as a staff member of the Music Department. This teacher’s card works similarly to your student ID, but it’s mainly for collecting your salary. From now on, you’re one of our teachers.”
As he handed over these rewards, officially making Lan Qi part of the faculty, his tone softened.
This genius of spectacle might be just what the Music Department needed.
Perhaps, even, he had the potential to rise as a great demon.
Lan Qi accepted the teacher’s ID and the black-metal nameplate—its rim encircled with carved musical notes, with golden letters inscribed in the center: “Lan Qi, Music Department Teacher.”
“What teaching duties will I have?”
He admired the credentials in his hand as he asked.
The department head did not answer. He looked at Lan Qi, then at the scene of infernal chaos that was the audience.
The meaning was clear: let him see for himself.
“Start next semester. This term, there aren’t enough students left for you to ruin.”
The head spoke coldly.
“Uh…”
Lan Qi couldn’t help but feel regret. Tomorrow morning, he would have to return to the human world.
Like a dream—ending before the happiest part—he would have to wake up and face reality.
If he could stay at this academy, he almost didn’t want to return to Icrithe Academy.
“So… could I just drop out now and become a full-time teacher?”
He thought for a moment before asking.
He remembered from Bachel’s explanation of school rules: students who failed to pay five credits every morning would be expelled outright—and expulsion meant execution.
Still, under special circumstances, the school allowed voluntary withdrawal.
Being recruited by an important institution or powerful figure of the demon realm was one such case.
“You could apply to the headmaster. But not today—he happens to be away these days. Also, if you want a diploma from this academy to secure better prospects in the demon world, I’d suggest you continue your studies. Manage your time well, and you can both attend classes and teach here.”
“I see.”
Lan Qi understood. It was somewhat like a PhD student’s life: studying while teaching on the side.
But then he caught something in the department head’s words—
The headmaster wasn’t at the academy?
That was a crucial piece of intelligence, discovered by accident.
It might well tie into Mission Objective 2: Investigate the source of tonight’s danger.
After all, with the academy’s highest authority absent, loopholes were bound to appear.