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“It’s not looking good. The Great Celestial Rite this year is giving me an uneasy feeling.”

Dowd clutched the script with trembling hands, almost hesitant to turn the next page.

“No, this must be just my imagination.”

Under Fenice’s surprised gaze, Dowd delivered a hard slap to his own face, snapping himself out of that foreboding sensation. How could he still call himself a professional host if he lost his cool from just reading an unusual profile?

The continent teemed with countless businessmen and organizations. There was nothing wrong with someone holding a few impressive professional titles.

Moreover, Miss Fenice was a woman with exceptional looks and demeanor. Her presence as the guest of honor suggested that her identity, financial strength, and professional experiences had all been validated by those in charge.

What was there for him to worry about?

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit room, an old man with a bruised face huddled in the dark corner, shivering as he observed the group in the room.

“This is the dean of the Holy Dragon Imperial Magic Academy? Are you sure you guys didn’t abduct the wrong person?”

The burly man, skillfully flipping a large pancake with a spatula, cast a disdainful glance at the corner.

“I doubt this old man can eat half of this pancake, let alone qualify as the dean.”

Green Emperor, who was engrossed in his drawing, raised his head and adjusted his glasses.

“No, no, no, being a dean has nothing to do with how much he can eat,” he retorted.

“Besides, your pancakes are made for the dragon race. Although small, they’re infused with spatial magic. A normal person would be stuffed to death after just a small bite.”
“Well, I operate on principles. How can I sell my pancakes with conscience if they lack quality?”
“So, you can sell a pancake priced at three gold coins with conscience?”
“What’s wrong with three gold coins? Gold coins aren’t even enough to buy this pancake on Dragon Island.”
“Then reflect on why your pancakes haven’t sold in years.”
“SHUT UP!”

The burly man slammed his spatula down, irritation written across his face as he glared at Green Emperor.

“Tell me, why do you believe this old man qualifies as a dean?” he asked.
“Huhu, my answer is this.”

Green Emperor unfurled a scroll, revealing a vivid painting—the upper half of the demoness in the painting was a young woman in revealing clothes, while the lower half was a grotesque giant centipede.

“Anyone who can appreciate this kind of painting is definitely not an ordinary person! This man is undoubtedly the dean of the Holy Dragon Imperial Magic Academy,” Green Emperor asserted.

In the dim corner of the room, the old man shivered.

The burly man scrutinized the painting, stroking his chin in contemplation. His brow gradually furrowed and he finally said, “This painting… is wonderful. I see I have misjudged. He is indeed the dean.”

The burly man shifted his gaze back to the dean, looking puzzled. “Why are we kidnapping the dean though?”

Green Emperor rolled his eyes and chastised, “Haven’t I told you to stop eating pancakes all the time? You’re so malnourished that your failing memory is no different to a goldfish’s.”

“To make Fenice the guest of honor, of course,” the fortune teller in tatters explained.

He moved his fingers, then continued, “I foresaw that our support lacked an element that could showcase Her Highness’ brilliance during the match to the general public. Upon reevaluation, I realized that Fenice, whose tongue was stuck to the ice in the Land of Eternal Frost for hundreds of years, possesses the top-notch licking skill in the entire Dragon Clan, second only to the Grand Chief. Hence, this task must fall upon her shoulders.”

“I see!” the burly man exclaimed with a clap as realization dawned on him. Shortly after that, he lowered his head, revealing a remorseful expression. “I feel sorry for the dean though. He didn’t do anything and shouldn’t be treated like this.”

The pitiful dean nodded vigorously as tears welled up in his eyes.

“No, I have to help the dean,” the burly man declared. With a swift movement, he appeared in front of the dean. “Mr. Dean, being tied up here by these b̲a̲s̲t̲a̲r̲d̲s̲ must cause you great pain.”

The dean nodded.

“It must be very hard for you.”
The dean nodded.

“You must really hate us, right?”
The dean nod-… shook his head.

“There’s no need to deny it. I understand. You’ve done nothing to deserve this suffering. I understand it all too well!” The burly man’s thoughts drifted back to the glorious years on Dragon Island, recalling the fiery red figure engraved in the soul of every fellow dragon.

For a moment, he sensed a resonance between them. The dean whimpered before tears streamed from his eyes. After enduring inexplicable abuse for so long, he had finally encountered someone who comprehended his pain.

“I understand, I understand. When a person suffers, hunger sets in quickly.”
Yes, yes, it does.
“And when you’re hungry, you want to eat.”
Yes, yes, eat.
“There’s nothing else I can do to make it up to you, except for giving you the big pancake I just made.”
Yes, yes, pancake…

Huh? Pancake? The dean’s eyes widened in panic. What did these people say about taking a bite of that pancake again?

Before he could recall it, the burly man sincerely brought the pancake close to the dean’s mouth and said, “Here. Eat up. It’s very filling.”

The dean looked at the pancake, then at the man, carefully assessing the expression on the burly man’s face. Was there any room for refusal?

◆◇◆◇◆

Dowd rubbed his face, using his battle qi to discreetly dispel any lingering redness, then turned toward Fenice with an apologetic smile.

“I apologize for that moment of distraction. As a professional host, that was an unforgivable mistake.”

Fenice graciously waved off the apology.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, nodding as if telling Dowd that she had seen similar incidents before. After all, dragons had a tendency to be self-destructive. “I could understand why you did that. It’s unfortunate that the gap in our races is so significant, making our professions less compatible. Otherwise, I would have gladly healed you.”

“Y-You’re too kind.”

What exactly does she want to heal? Dowd laughed awkwardly, then turned his head away to take a deep breath.

A large flat surface made of spectrum stone on the table displayed a message from the on-site staff.

The tournament had begun!

With a barely discernible hum, the wall in front of Dowd suddenly parted. Blinding light flooded into their room and the ensuing clamor drowned them like a tidal wave.

As the largest arena in the Holy Dragon Empire, the imperial martial arts arena covered a vast area and could accommodate a whopping two hundred thousand spectators. However, these privileged members of the audience were exclusively individuals of noble status or those blessed with enough wealth to occupy the premier special-class seats.

An extensive projection array quickly cast numerous projections in the sky.

In Jeorgetown City, one could spectate the intense battles of talented individuals by merely lifting their gaze!

Simultaneously, every noble, member of the imperial family, and influential figure across the continent, possessing enough financial power and status, paid a hefty sum to establish a connection with the massive spectrum stone above the arena, so that they could watch the live broadcast of the entire Martial God Tournament!

This tournament held paramount significance for the new generation across the entire continent. Regardless of the splendor of one’s name, only those who could stand out in this tournament could truly earn the title of a genius.