It wasn’t long after ending the communication with Dean Avery that Jeming was already planning future research and teaching preparations in his mind. Suddenly, the communicator he carried started flashing again at an inconvenient ti.
Jeming couldn’t help but chuckle.
Normally, this communicator was as quiet as a decoration, but today it had rung one after another, as if all matters had agreed to converge at this mont.
He answered casually, and the figure on the light screen made him pause slightly, then he understood.
It was Senior Sister Viola.
Since the war in the Demon God Plane had ended, it was natural for her to return.
At this mont, though there was a lingering fatigue in her eyes belonging to a researcher, her overall spirit was much better than when she was endlessly processing data in the Ice and Fla Plane. The composed aura of a Sixth Level Wizard beca even more apparent around her.
"Senior Sister, long ti no see." Jeming greeted with a smile.
"Just got back not long ago." Viola waved her hand, still with that slightly lazy tone, going straight to the point, "You heard about Nolun Academy opening in Elorcia, right?"
Jeming nodded: "I just talked to Dean Avery and agreed to take up a teaching position."
"You too?" Viola raised an eyebrow, then showed a "fellow-minded" proud expression, "Hehe, I knew it! Who can resist such benefits?"
Seeing Jeming curious, Viola explained in detail: "The benefits for academy ntors are graded. For Wizards below Fifth Level like you, there is a mandatory expedition duty with fixed rest periods. So the benefit is to extend your rest ti, giving you more years of freedom."
She changed the topic, pointing to herself: "But for us Fifth Level and above, the regulations are reversed. The civilization fears that us old folks linger outside too long or bury ourselves in the lab for thousands of years and forget the responsibility of inheritance, so we’re mandatorily required to return regularly for rest. The benefit for being a ntor is reducing the duration of this mandatory rest!"
She showed a look of lingering fear: "For , a Sixth Level Wizard, a single mandatory rest period can easily exceed a thousand years! Without attempting to reduce it, just sitting there daydreaming would drive anyone crazy! It’s way more interesting to soak in the lab or explore other planes!"
Jeming suddenly realized, so the academy ntor benefits also vary by level, fundantally attracting Wizards at different stages to education through "ti."
"By the way," Viola seed to recall sothing and said, "Professor Clark has returned to Nolun No.13 Academy. If you have ti, you might want to visit."
Jeming was startled by this: "The ntor is looking for ? Is there sothing?"
Viola rely smiled mysteriously and waved her hand: "You’ll know when you go back yourself? I still have data to process, gotta hang up!"
After speaking, the communication cut off crisply before Jeming could ask more.
Watching the dimd light screen, Jeming’s curiosity deepened.
Professor Clark actively seeking him?
That’s rare.
Given his understanding of the ntor, that figure who would prefer to weld himself to the workbench wouldn’t lightly summon students unless necessary.
Despite his doubts, a few days later, Jeming temporarily set aside his research and returned to the familiar Nolun13th Plane via the Teleportation Array, heading directly to Professor Clark’s office.
In the office filled with Scrolls, instrunts, and various unknown biological specins, exuding a mix of parchnt and Alchemy Potion scents, Jeming saw his ntor again.
Professor Clark was the sa trademark eccentric self—slightly disheveled hair, eyes showing the fatigue of long-term sleep deprivation.
The Wizard Robe seed to be the sa old one from years ago, with a few more unknown stains and burn marks, perating a strong "down-to-earth" aura.
Seeing Jeming suddenly appear, Professor Clark looked up from a pile of complex Energy Structure diagrams, true surprise flashing in his murky eyes.
"Jeming? Why did you co back?"
Jeming was more surprised: "Didn’t you have Senior Sister Viola notify to return?"
Professor Clark blinked blankly, then seed to understand sothing, shaking his head helplessly while muttering under his breath: "That crazy girl..."
He then said no more, refocusing his attention back on the diagrams, as if Jeming’s presence was just a minor interruption.
Jeming was both amused and exasperated, realizing that Senior Sister Viola had "played" him a bit.
Though, now that he was here, just as he was about to chat about sothing...
Knock, knock, knock.
A gentle knock ca.
Professor Clark didn’t look up, his voice calm and steady: "Co in."
The office door was carefully pushed open a crack, and a small head peeked in.
It was a young boy appearing to be around ten years old, wearing a clean Apprentice Robe, with eyes clear but filled with a hint of nervousness.
Upon seeing soone besides Professor Clark present—Jeming, a stranger—the boy visibly paused, a trace of panic flashing across his face.
However, he quickly took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down, walked in properly, performing a standard Wizard salute to both Professor Clark and Jeming.
"Professor Clark, here is the summary of last week’s observation data that you requested." The boy’s voice was crisp, respectfully offering a thick stack of materials to the desk.
Professor Clark simply grunted in acknowledgnt, casually taking the materials and placing them atop an already towering pile of docunts next to him.
The boy saluted again, quietly exiting, and gently closed the door.
Throughout this process, Jeming didn’t say anything but watched the boy leave with interest.
After the office door was fully closed, he turned his head to the ntor still buried in the diagrams, with a slightly incredulous playful tone:
"ntor, could that be my ’junior’?"
Nolun Academy enrolls students every five years, so in a broad sense, Jeming has thousands of "juniors."
But in this context, he ant those personally acknowledged and taken under Professor Clark’s tutelage.
Jeming knew his ntor well.
Reclusive and demanding, detesting any waste of ti deeply.
The average Wizard Apprentice, no matter how talented, wouldn’t even have the qualifications to step into this office if not eting his standards.
For the boy to comfortably submit data, his identity was evident—just like himself once.
Professor Clark finally lifted his gaze from the diagrams, glanced at Jeming, and lightly nodded, indicating acknowledgnt.
Then added: "Average talent, has his own ideas."
This was a remarkably high praise Jeming had heard from his ntor for an apprentice.
Gazing at the now closed door, seemingly still seeing the boy’s earlier effort to remain calm but couldn’t hide his youthful greenish deanor, a peculiar feeling surged in Jeming’s heart, an inexplicable trance.
Ti seed to overlap at this mont.
Once upon a ti, he was also such a boy, stepping cautiously into this office with unease and expectations.
Now, he stood here, as a "senior," watching the quiet beginning of a new generation.
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