hotmtlnovel Page 6
Page 6
"In the application of Originium, Oripathy is the primary risk. How are the current protection levels classified? What are the specific operating procedures?" These questions were thrown out like sharp blades.
The first student called out was a boy sitting in the last row on the far left, whose clothing style screamed "playboy." His motive for choosing that seat right next to the back door was obvious.
"Uh... there are three levels of protection in total. As for the specifics... level one protection is gloves?"
"Uh... Level 3 protection?" He stood up in a panic, his eyes darting around.
"Specifically... Level 1 is... gloves?" He came from a family with a long history in the film and television industry in Lancawood, and was extremely knowledgeable about lighting, sound, and music, but what about Originium equipment? He probably didn't even know the most basic structure of a civilian Originium lamp. He chose this required course only because it was "broad in scope, had a low minimum requirement, and was easy to get by with." At this moment, the professor's explanation from a few minutes ago was just a vague echo in his mind.
"Get out." The verdict was cold and unquestionable.
One by one, students in the back rows were called out, stood up, stammered, and expelled. Though humiliated, their retreating figures conveyed a sense of relief—finally, they could get rid of this "crazy woman" completely.
Soon, almost the entire back row was wiped out—it was Kane's turn.
Under the spotlight, and with a gaze as sharp as Casimir's lance fixed on him from the podium, Kane calmly rose. His voice was clear, steady, and utterly emotionless:
"According to the current 'Columbia Originium Operation Safety Specifications', the protection level is divided into three levels. Level 1 protection: physical isolation. The standard configuration includes full-coverage protective clothing, isolation gloves, protective helmet, and sealed face mask, which is suitable for basic operations in low-concentration Originium environments;
Level 2 protection: Particulate filtration. In addition to Level 1 protection, a high-efficiency particulate filtration breathing apparatus is mandatory. Suitable for environments where the concentration of osmium dust significantly exceeds the standard or where there is a risk of highly reactive particulate matter diffusion.
Level 3 Protection: Environmental Purification. This requires engineering measures, such as large-scale filtration systems, directional airflow control, and the spraying of ore-laden powder settlers, to forcibly reduce the concentration of ore particles in the air of the work area to below a safe threshold. It is primarily used in extreme environments such as post-disaster recovery and high-intensity ore leak incidents.
He paused briefly before adding, "Some cutting-edge laboratories employ advanced protective practices, relying on the unique abilities of specific Originium Arts masters to achieve unconventional isolation. Because these practices cannot be standardized and promoted, they have not been included in general guidelines."
On the podium, for the first time, a faint, almost appreciative glint crossed Professor Felin's usually icy face.
"It seems that not everyone in the back row is a good-for-nothing."
Her gaze lingered on Kane for a moment, scrutinizing him: "Kid, next class, don't let me see you cowering in the corner again."
"..." Silence was his most helpless response at that moment.
In the first row, Saria slightly turned her head. For the first time, her amber eyes held a scrutinizing gaze tinged with a genuine inquiry. This Rupert, who had chosen a corner in the back row yet could instantly reproduce the meticulous details… seemed not to be the lazy person she had imagined. Her straight back remained perfectly still, but her fingertips, which were taking notes, paused almost imperceptibly for half a second.
Chapter 16 Academic Research
By the end of the class, Kane had grasped the underlying logic behind Saria's choice of this tough professor—simply because of their highly compatible personalities. Both possessed an uncompromising, hard-line style. Kane had no doubt that within this professor's "forge," Saria would be forged into something extraordinary.
So, should he stay in this "high-pressure zone"? This professor's classroom is destined to be an isolated island with the fewest students at Tremont Polytechnic. Ninety-nine percent of the students who have taken her class will keep their distance. Those who remain are either "iron-willed" like Saria, or pure masochists.
In the end, Kane chose to stay in that classroom; although the teacher was extremely strict, even harsh, his teaching skills were undeniably top-notch.
This classroom is purely a "domain of academic elites." The students who remain are all filled with profound knowledge, leaving no time for boring campus gossip or factional struggles, making it an ideal learning space.
Furthermore, there is Saria, an indispensable founder of Rhine Lab with a bright future. Befriending her and even bringing her under one's wing would be a very valuable investment.
On the fourth day of school, the high-energy physics class was still unattended. Christensen could only maintain contact through social media. She shared her experience with the business administration class: three batches of students took turns attending the trial class, malicious stares followed her everywhere, while neutral students avoided her like the plague. She once again lamented Kane's rarity—he was a rare "unpolluted zone" on campus.
Meanwhile, Kane told her about the Iron-Blooded Professor. Kristen was very kind to her only friend, and she immediately sent a request to her guardian, hoping that the other party would investigate the professor and help Kane solve his problem.
"Gemma Benitez: A rising star in Columbia's scientific community, winner of the Trimont Progress Award, author of 'Originium and Columbia: The Energy Revolution'... she has received numerous honors. However, her strong personality led to her leaving two top laboratories one after another. Ultimately, she returned to her alma mater, Trimont Polytechnic University, to teach."
As expected. Despite her exceptional abilities, she suffered ostracism for refusing to compromise in the "gutters" outside of academia. In Columbia, a society where personal relationships are not paramount, she still seemed out of place—her brilliance was too dazzling, and her unwillingness to bow down naturally made her a target of criticism.
Having confirmed its value, Kane became even more determined to stay. High-pressure teaching? To him, it was merely the transmission and reception of data, with absolutely no possibility of "making mistakes."
Today, he arrived at the classroom twenty minutes early. There were slightly more people than yesterday—three "warriors" were among them, as they were familiar faces from yesterday; one of them was Saria, who sat upright in the center of the first row.
Her gaze met Kane's. This time, Kane didn't head towards the back corner, but went straight to the empty seat next to Saria.
"You don't mind, do you? You heard what the professor said yesterday—if you keep hiding, you're probably in for a bad time."
Kane spoke calmly, explaining his reasons for choosing this location.
“Your position is free.” Saria’s response was concise, but her gaze was scrutinizing.
"But I am indeed curious, why did you choose the back row when the classroom was empty yesterday?" At that time, even though Kane was sitting next to her, she had no right to question him.
"Simply because of design flaws," Kane stated bluntly, expressing extreme dissatisfaction with the design of Tremont Polytechnic University.
"The back row of the stairs has a commanding view, and the line of sight can easily penetrate the backs of the people in front and the table. I don't like this feeling of exposure."
“I understand. Privacy and security are indeed important.” Saria nodded slightly, offering practical advice:
"If you are using a personal mobile device, you can install a privacy screen protector. It only provides a clear view from the front; the view from the side will be physically obstructed."
“I’ll consider it,” Kane replied.
He had no real secrets to hide; his resistance stemmed more from the deep-seated wariness stemming from his identity as Ama-9—after all, if his identity were exposed to the world, he would probably never have a peaceful day.
"Besides Originium Applications Science, what is your other major?" Kane initiated the conversation.
“Life sciences,” Seria replied.
"Saria, Originium Applications and Life Sciences, are you perhaps planning to become a doctor?"
One can analyze a student's research direction from their chosen major. Just like a cocktail, Originium Application Science is the most famous and most useful base liquor; and life science combined with it—medical sorcerer, Oripathy researcher, Originium organism cultivation and research... is like constructing a kind of "life blueprint", the core of which is nothing more than utilizing or counteracting the effects of Originium on living organisms.
“Oripathy.” Saria’s voice was calm and firm, her amber eyes fixed on the empty podium.
"It is the deepest scar that Originium has bestowed upon this land. If it can be healed, the progress of civilization and technology will be much faster—this is my current direction." Her goal was clear to the point of being tragic—to challenge Terra's most prevalent and intractable disease. Countless pioneers followed one after another, and that bulwark still stands tall.
"You have chosen a path full of thorns." Kane's tone was flat, stating a cold fact.
"How many giants have poured resources into Terra? Yet, to this day, there are very few truly effective inhibitors." He wasn't trying to discourage anyone; he was simply stating a stark reality. As the being closest to the "answer," he knew the essence of Oripathy—the will of the creator, the shackles of fate.
Curing Oripathy is difficult because it requires modifying the underlying genes of all races on Terra so that they are no longer targeted for assimilation by Originium. Curing Oripathy is simple; it only requires one instruction from Ama-9—the program by which Originium assimilates organisms can be overwritten and altered.
This is the despairing chasm forged by the generational gap in civilization. The people of Terra will need the blood, sweat, and tears of countless geniuses to fill this abyss.
"Your direction?" Saria brought the question back, her tone inquiring.
"High-energy physics...involves the composition of matter, particles, and radiation. Combined with Originium applications..."
"The objective is clear." Kane's lips curled into an almost cold smile.
“Either Terra is completely freed from its energy constraints, or—” He paused, his golden eyes flashing silently with data.
"—Blow it into the sky."
A brief silence fell over the audience.
Saria turned her head and, for the first time, looked her classmate closely. On her usually cold and aloof face, the usual scrutiny had subtly softened with a hint of respect.
“It seems the path you’ve chosen is by no means easy.” Her voice was deep and clear, carrying the unique strength of Vaivan.
The invisible pressure in the air seemed to deepen. Professor Benitez appeared in the doorway, his sharp gaze like a drawn blade, instantly silencing any lingering sound. A new day of "forging" was about to begin.
Chapter 17 Financial Accounts
On Friday, Christensen's long-awaited high-energy physics class was finally scheduled again. Although she and Kane still had to maintain a distance in class, at least they could be in the same space and clearly see each other's faces.
On the podium, Professor Kuranta was engrossed in explaining the textbook. He was so absorbed in the sea of knowledge, and coupled with the professor's lack of charisma, classroom discipline was somewhat lax. Fortunately, the students admitted to Trimont Polytechnic University possessed basic manners, preventing any attention-seeking antics, but the atmosphere ultimately couldn't compare to Professor Benitez's breathtakingly intense lecture, like a high-pressure furnace.
Oh no, could it be that taking her class for two consecutive days has made me get used to that suffocating feeling? That high-pressure teaching environment is the abnormal thing, isn't it? Kane's thoughts flashed through his mind.
With the help of the "helpful classmate" Christensen, Kane not only learned about the professor of Originium Applications' resume, but also gained a considerable understanding of this professor of high-energy physics:
Professor Hall White – a scholar who returned from studying at the Royal College of Victoria. His performance during his time at the Royal College of Victoria was so outstanding that the college extended an olive branch to him, promising him a lucrative research position and status, hoping he would stay in Victoria.
However, he ultimately chose to return to Colombia. Unfortunately, due to this sensitive incident and the long-standing animosity and conflict between Colombia and Vitória, the authorities were wary of him and excluded him from many key and important projects.
His talent had nowhere to be used, and coupled with his lack of social skills, he couldn't find a strong recommender or a top-notch laboratory willing to accept him—ultimately, he could only take a teaching position at Trimont Polytechnic University. However, this scholar seemed uninterested in worldly achievements and status; he purely enjoyed the pleasure derived from delving into knowledge itself.
Therefore, he also poured his heart and soul into teaching. However, as a teacher, he clearly lacked experience and couldn't maintain the same level of classroom control as Professor Benitez. But if you asked him for advice, he would never hesitate to share. In short, he was a "gentler version" of Professor Gemma Benitez—lacking the almost violent indoctrination style and possessing a pure academic passion.
The class ended quickly. Kane and Kristen maintained their "unfamiliar" demeanor, each leaving in silence. Their deliberate aloofness dampened the enthusiasm of many who had been waiting for a spectacle. By now, most people had generally accepted the situation: Kristen's identity was sensitive and unique, while Kane Mordred was a loner, an outcast. The image of a complicated "troublesome figure" and a reclusive "oddball" sitting together in the corner of the classroom actually fulfilled a certain subconscious expectation among the crowd.
With that, Kane completed his first week of trial classes at Tremont Polytechnic University. Although the course was still in a relaxed, exploratory phase, and elective courses and heavy assessments had not yet officially begun, Kane was confident that the academic work itself would not be stressful—acquiring knowledge was not difficult for him.
Of the next two days of vacation, one day must be allocated to Muirsey. Kane himself also has a plan to launch.
On Saturday, a holiday, Kane, carrying his Colombian citizenship documents, property deeds, and bank account information, set off for the Trimont financial district. His goal was to open a personal account in the financial markets, attempting to leverage his exceptional calculation skills and his vague understanding of the "future" to gain a share of the pie in this battlefield of capital.
"Next stop, Columbia Financial Street."
The city rail trains emitted emotionless, synthesized electronic voices. One of the advantages of settling in Trimont is that, as the heart of Colombia, it's home to tech giants, financial behemoths, military-industrial companies, and other behemoths, making it exceptionally convenient to find any professional service.
Kane entered Tremont’s largest stock exchange at a perfect time, when there were very few customers. He was quickly received by an available clerk.
"Hello, sir, how can I help you?" the salesperson greeted with a professional smile.
“Open a securities trading account,” Kane replied simply.
"Okay, sir. Please show your valid identification and cooperate with us to complete the necessary identity verification and risk assessment process," the salesperson guided him skillfully.
“Okay.” Kane handed over the documents that had been prepared beforehand.
The documents are flawless. Colombia's recognition of citizenship, especially for those who have transitioned from immigrant status, is often accompanied by numerous restrictive clauses to maintain the exclusivity and sense of superiority of their status; however, Kane's "parents" had already resolved this issue—at least according to the documents, he was a citizen born and educated in Tremont.
"Thank you for your cooperation. Your identity verification has been successful. Next, please complete a risk assessment questionnaire." The salesperson began clicking on the terminal in front of them.
A fleeting sense of disbelief crossed Kane's mind—Mark Max's transformation of Colombia was indeed profound. It was hard to imagine that while some tribes in Sargon were still practicing primitive bartering, Colombia on the other side of the continent had already built such an institutionalized financial system.
Kane owns a property in Trimont, has approximately $100,000 in Colombian gold certificates in his bank account, and is a high-achieving student at Trimont Polytechnic University. In the risk assessment questionnaire, he selected an "aggressive" investment strategy. Based on these criteria, his risk assessment was successfully passed, and his trading account was opened efficiently.
"Would you like to deposit initial funds into your trading account now?" Out of professional habit, the saleswoman quickly scanned Kane's basic information in the system:
My parents passed away early, and the money they left me was barely enough to complete my studies. If I had been more frugal and successfully graduated from a polytechnic university, my future would have been bright. But investing in the stock market now is not a good choice.
"Import 50,000 gold coins." Kane's voice was completely calm.
"...Okay, sir, I'll handle it for you right away. Based on the agreement, we will charge a handling fee."
The receptionist was already worried about Kane's future. She seemed to have already seen this student blindly and confidently rushing into the stock market, only to be innocently affected by the games played by various giants, ultimately losing all 50,000 gold coins and having to work part-time to make up for his tuition for the next two years.
But dissuading clients is definitely not part of her job; in fact, it could be considered a violation of regulations. The exchange would love for every Colombian to open an account, since it profits from transaction fees and commissions, and whether clients make or lose money is none of its business.
A moment later, Kane left the exchange. His bank account balance notification SMS showed his deposit had decreased by half, while his securities trading account had 50,000 gold coins ready as margin.
Blindly acting impulsively is foolish gambler's behavior. Now, let's start looking for arbitrage opportunities in the market.
Kane was no hot-headed student. He was a hunter, armed with sophisticated tools and a unique perspective, ready to venture into the jungle of capital.
Chapter 18 Sunday's Appointment
On Sunday, Kane woke up early. Social etiquette required him to take every sincere invitation seriously—and since Muirsey had extended the invitation, he responded with the appropriate formality. He bathed, combed his hair, and carefully groomed his Lupo-like bushy tail. Columbia's thriving commerce had long since developed a dedicated beauty market for the diverse races of Terra:
Horn waxing for Sarkaz and Vayvan, horn care for Elafia and Caprini, feather care for Liberi, and specialized combs and shampoos for fur-bearing races like Ursus, Felin, and Lupo… In short, if you want to give a gift to a Terran friend but are unsure of their preferences, a set of exquisite race-specific grooming tools is a foolproof choice.
Perhaps the most effective gift was a pair of blindfolds given to the Sakorta people—most Sakortas have to endure the "sweet burden" that comes with it from the moment that halo above their heads lights up. Imagine trying to sleep in the dark with a light that never goes out hanging above your head? Blindfolds are almost a necessity for survival for every Sakorta, and blindfolds given as gifts by friends often carry special sentiments and will be cherished and used for a long time.
These interesting trivia facts all came from Muirsey—she is very knowledgeable about these kinds of everyday racial anecdotes.
Kane even wondered if Muirsay was subtly hinting at a future return gift—perhaps a "grooming kit specifically for elves." He later searched for it, only to find that the elves were nearly extinct, their exclusive market long gone. Besides, elves look no different from ordinary humans, showing no obvious bestial features; regular basic grooming products would suffice.
Take the city rail train to Trimont Central Avenue. This is the heart of the city's most bustling area, home to top-tier entertainment and shopping venues, where every inch of land is precious and dazzling.
Kane walked slowly to the fountain in the central square, glancing at his watch: 9:49 AM. Eleven minutes until the agreed-upon 10:00. Muirsey had yet to appear. He was able to temporarily detach himself and calmly observe this glittering scene.
Luxury boutiques stand side by side: fashion, watches, bags, jewelry… Kane doesn't recognize those glittering logos, but he can clearly see the business logic behind them: it's nothing more than using intricate craftsmanship and overwhelming marketing to package an ordinary industrial product with layers upon layers of added value. Ultimately, aside from basic practicality, its only remaining function is a cold symbol of status—"I'm rich."
In Colombia's high society, this symbol is of paramount importance. Kane may have to get involved in it in the future, but certainly not today, because for now he is just a penniless student.
"Hi--!"
A vibrant voice rang out like a leaping musical note, and at the same time, a hand with a familiar warmth patted Kane's shoulder, instantly pulling him back to reality from his scrutiny of the luxury goods.
“I thought arriving ten minutes early was early enough! How long have you been waiting? It couldn’t have been long, could it?” Muirsey appeared beside him with a radiant smile, as if she had been condensed directly from the sunlight.
Once again…approaching without warning. A strange feeling swept through Kane's heart. Muirsey's presence was too special to him; she could always easily evade his perception because the amount of Originium particles in her body was extremely low.
“Just arrived, less than a minute ago. You, on the other hand, arriving ten minutes early is a bit much. Ladies are usually entitled to be waited for on appointments.” Kane’s tone was flat, without much further reaction.
“Even privileges have limits!” Muirsey winked playfully, her voice light and quick as a tinkling wind chime.
"I don't want to max out our friendship over something as trivial as being late!"
Even the usually aloof Kane couldn't help but smile slightly, his lips curving into a smile at this overly lively and infectious energy.
"It's only ten o'clock, isn't it too early to have lunch?" Muirsey followed Kane's gaze and looked precisely at the luxuriously decorated shop—the Swire sign gleamed in the sunlight. As someone with a keen eye for fashion, she knew the weight and price represented by this top brand that originated in Victoria and expanded to Lonçaise and Columbia.
"Wow... Kane, could it be that you're actually a hidden rich young master?" She deliberately dragged out her words, with a teasing tone.
"Unfortunately, no—I'd probably be kicked out by the staff as soon as I went in."
"Pfft—you must have read too many third-rate novels!" Muirsey couldn't help but laugh.
"The staff at these big brands are all smart people. Even if you just go in and look around without buying anything, they'll still greet you with a smile and be very polite. If you dare to give a customer a hard time or cause trouble, they'll be the first ones fired."
Muirsay comes from an orphanage on the outskirts of Tremont. As a student who earns her own tuition and living expenses through her intelligence, Muirsay's spending habits are surprisingly similar to Kane's. This subtle resonance may be one of the glues that hold their friendship together.
“We can’t afford someone like Swire, who’s at the pinnacle of the industry, but—I know a few niche boutiques that are great value for money, with amazing designs and super high cost-performance ratios! Interested in checking them out?” Muirsay’s tone shifted, her eyes gleaming.
"I can handle carrying the bags," Kane nodded, agreeing.
"Alright! Colonel Kane, let's go on a shopping spree!" Muirsay immediately struck a triumphant pose.