The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 102: Teacher

In the gently stirring breeze of the world, Professor Prang’s aged gaze suddenly turned ice-cold. A terrifying aura—utterly unfitting for an old man—rose from his emaciated body.

Above his head, an ancient-looking crown took form from shimring light, then quickly floated upward like the clear air at the dawn of the world.

At the center of the semicircular barrier, a phantom throne seed to have long been forged. When the crown rged into the throne, an illusory figure seated itself upon it, casting down a gaze of indifference upon all creation.

In an instant, the world within Professor Prang’s eyes transford completely.

With the full authority of the Second Layer of the Great Arcane Ritual released, everything within Saint Maria Academy was laid bare before him. Trees, weeds, fish and insects, the silent school buildings hidden in shadow—no change, no matter how minute, could escape his perception. Everything surfaced in his mind. Everything, in this mont, felt as if it were within his grasp, ready to be manipulated at will.

“Huuh...”

This wondrous sensation—of seeming to control all things—brought renewed vigor to Professor Prang’s body, which had long since begun to wither with age.

It was as if he had returned to his younger self.

But alas, the young girl he had t in his youth... was no longer here.

Professor Prang raised a hand. The twelve black towers roared in response. Endless magic power, channeled through the Great Arcane Ritual, was poured into his temporarily invigorated body.

A glimr lit up in his old eyes.

And so, perfectly segnted hexagonal fraworks descended from the sky and rose from the earth, layered upon one another like a vast grinding mill that could crush all material things, rolling toward the Saintess with her back turned and white wings spread.

“Uuh—”

In the Saintess of Purification’s mournful cry, there was suddenly a sharp, piercing shriek—like so entity, borrowing her body, was expressing its rage and madness toward the wretched vermin before it.

The Saintess raised her hand, clenched it into a fist, and smashed down!

There was no technique, no form. For a Saintess, this motion was absurdly crude—more like a fishwife brawling in a marketplace.

But the mont that small fist ca down, the stacked layers of the frawork trembled violently.

Those perfectly interlocking hexagons bent under an unspeakable, terrifying force, causing even the surrounding space to quake and distort, issuing a tal-shearing screech that made one’s teeth ache.

“Even after becoming a Saintess revered by all, your way of fighting is still so simple and brutish, huh?”

Professor Prang let out a bitter chuckle.

Just like back then, when he was forced to clean up the sses from her street fights.

“In that case...”

Professor Prang spread his arms.

Behind him, golden lines stretched and converged, forming intricate, esoteric patterns.

Instant-Cast Spell Array.

What should have been carved with rcury and beast blood onto gold and gemstones, Professor Prang—using unfathomable magical skill—constructed directly in the void. Monuntal magic converged upon it, gradually brewing into a storm and sea of fire that spelled utter annihilation!

His face was cold as he issued the command.

“Go.”

Thus, countless imnse and terrifying spells, fueled by limitless magic, fired in an unending barrage—forming a saturation bombardnt that lit up the night sky.

The earlier attack released jointly by over a hundred students was re drizzle compared to this tidal wave. The difference was that between a passing mist and a tsunami.

This was the terror of a Grand Mage at the peak of Truth. So long as the magic reserves sufficed, a single individual could rival an entire magical army.

This ti, the Saintess of Purification dared not block it with her hands. Swallowing that kind of “candy” would an a shredded gut at best.

Her wings unfurled, then closed tightly, sheltering her form perfectly. Pure white light spread out like a holy domain, rejecting all filth and impurity.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

It was as though ten suns had risen at once. The blinding radiance painted the night sky into daylight.

Even if it was a holy domain constructed from divine authority, it could not hold. For true gods could not descend—and in the face of such sheer power, the domain began to crack, visibly and audibly, before being completely pierced through!

Endless heat and blinding light poured into the domain, rushing toward the delicate figure sheltered within the white wings, as if to incinerate her into ash.

Professor Prang pressed down on his hat to prevent it from being blown away by the scorching blast and gale.

He squinted, straining to see through the distorted space caused by the explosion and radiant heat.

That attack had cost him nearly all his life’s accumulated skill, burning through almost a third of the Academy’s leyline-drawn magic. Let alone a Crowned-tier caster—even that Undead guarding the church graveyard should be reduced to ash if struck head-on.

Yet for so reason, the unease in Professor Prang’s heart did not subside.

In fact—it intensified.

As though sothing even more dreadful was about to happen.

At his level, any premonition had substance. So he dared not relax.

The spell arrays behind him lit up once more, ready for a second wave of assault.

Then, his vision flickered.

Professor Prang tensed.

The spell arrays were prid to fire—when he suddenly froze.

As if the intent to trigger them had been wiped from his mind.

A brief ntal stagnation—and in that instant, space in front of him was torn open.

The Saintess of Purification stepped out from within.

It was clear that she hadn’t escaped unscathed from that strike. Her white wings were shattered, leaving only half a pitiful remnant trembling. Her hands were scorched black, her pale skin ruined, and her once-perfect face was now riddled with cracks like fractured porcelain.

Yet the mont she appeared, the whole world dimd.

Even the explosive # Nоvеlight # radiance from monts before now seed insignificant.

For in her hand, she held what appeared to be the most dazzling light in existence.

A sword.

A sword with no intricate engravings, no glittering jewels—so plain it looked half-finished.

But the mont that sword erged, nothing in the heavens or on earth could outshine it.

“Holy shit, the Holy Sword?” cried a certain bear beneath the Academy.

But no one heard. No one cared.

Because at the focal point of all gazes, the Saintess of Purification raised the Holy Sword—and thrust it toward Professor Prang’s heart.

In that mont, all breath seed to halt.

Countless layers of hexagonal structure unfolded instantly before Professor Prang, trying to push the Saintess back.

But before the Holy Sword’s light, everything was purified. The fraworks woven by the Great Arcane Ritual were undone instantly—disintegrating into raw magic with zero resistance.

“Puh.”

The sound of flesh being torn. Blood sprayed outward.

Professor Prang stared blankly down at his chest.

The Holy Sword had pierced his body. Endless light surged within, bringing searing fire.

He coughed blood, even his nose and mouth aglow with radiance.

By all rights, he should be dead.

A direct hit from the Holy Sword—even with the protection of the Great Arcane Ritual—should’ve ant death.

But he didn’t die. Because...

The sword had pierced his right chest.

Eyes widening in disbelief, he looked up.

The Saintess of Purification’s hollow left eye... seed to shimr with a trace of vitality.

And so, amid the still-wailing winds and her lingering sobs, ca a soft, mournful whisper—

“Tea—cher.”