12: Chapter 12 Are you still asleep, or am I still asleep?

Ye Ming carefully held the herbs and hurried toward the experimental building, walking with a brisk pace.

Just as he reached the lab door and took out his keys, a low shout rang out from behind him.

"Ye Ming!"

He paused for a moment and continued inserting the key into the lock. "Does Mentor Fu have something to see me about?"

"Arriving at the lab after eight o'clock... do you still have any respect for me as your mentor?"

Ye Ming pulled out his phone, glanced at it, turned around, and showed the screen. "Mentor Fu Xiyuan, it is currently 7:53."

Fu Xiyuan stood before him with his hands behind his back. He wore a white lab coat, had a bit of a balding head, and a bloated figure, likely due to a lack of exercise.

Because he was quite short, he looked like a square from a distance.

Glancing at the phone, Fu Xiyuan curled his lip and turned the watch on his left wrist forward a full hour. "So young, yet your eyesight is already failing."

"Look." He raised his left arm to show the watch face. "It's now 8:53."

After saying that, Fu Xiyuan walked a few steps to the door and marked Ye Ming as late on the punch-in sheet hanging on the wall.

"This month's stipend is gone. Also, pay more attention to your health; if you're not well, take a leave and go to the hospital."

With a tone full of mockery, he kept his hands behind his back and walked toward the elevator.

"Hmph."

"Likes to play the hero, doesn't he? Doesn't even look at what he is, just a brat from the countryside."

He had already disappeared into the elevator, and as the doors were closing, he raised his voice particularly high, seemingly intending for Ye Ming to hear.

The old geezer has never come to the lab this early. Who stabbed me in the back?

After mentally going over the colleagues working on the project together, Ye Ming had an idea; he knew who the old geezer's lackey was.

"A stipend... is that all he's got?"

Ye Ming sneered and turned the key to open the door.

"Senior Brother."

He instinctively looked over, a smile appearing on his face as he greeted her. "Lin Miao."

The girl with long black hair hopping over from the end of the corridor immediately scrunched up her face. "Call me Xiao Miao."

"It's the same."

"How is it the same?" Lin Miao picked up the pen tied to a spring cord to punch in. "Senior Brother, why were you marked late? There are still a few minutes left."

Ye Ming didn't speak and just shrugged.

She understood instantly and buried her head in her chest. "Sorry, Senior Brother, it's all because of me..."

"Don't say that." Ye Ming waved his hand cheerfully. "If hitting people wasn't illegal, I would have punched three of that old geezer's teeth out that day."

"Heehee." Lin Miao was amused and moved closer, tugging on his sleeve. "Calling him an 'old fogey' would be more appropriate; I learned that online."

After laughing, her shoulders slumped. "Senior Brother, it can't go on like this. He will definitely block my graduation.

I might as well just drop out. Will you come with me?"

The little girl really knows what to say.

Ye Ming smiled and lightly chopped her head with his hand. "We'll see when the time comes."

"Fine, I'll listen to you."

"Eh? What's this?" Lin Miao finally noticed the herbs in his hand.

"A friend asked me to help test the components."

"Then let's go in quickly. I'll be your assistant."

"Okay."

...

Other World.

Zhang Mu walked out of the Portal, meditated on the spot for half an hour to replenish his mana, and then strode to the front of Potter's house.

First, he took a sausage out of his pocket—it was corn-flavored today—peeled it, and threw it to the panting Da Huang.

Looking at Da Huang, who was now firmly under his control and happily lying down to the side to enjoy the treat, Zhang Mu was very worried about the security of Potter's home.

If a thief really came, this thing would probably defect in a second.

"Tsk tsk tsk—"

Smacking his lips, Zhang Mu pushed open the ajar door, thumped up to the second floor, and turned left into the room.

Potter had moved a chair and was sitting in front of the stove.

He was still wearing that same black mage robe he hadn't changed since they met; it was unclear whether he hadn't changed it or if he simply had many identical sets.

"Mr. Pot—... f*ck!"

Potter turned his head, and when Zhang Mu saw his eyes clearly, he shook all over as if he'd been electrocuted.

"Why are you shouting so loudly?"

Calming down, Zhang Mu approached in astonishment, staring at his eyes. "What happened? Your eyeballs are swollen like lightbulbs and are completely bloodshot."

"Last night, I remembered some things from a long time ago."

"Things from a long time ago?"

Potter looked to be about seventy, but magic can extend life, so his actual age was definitely higher.

What could a centenarian be reminiscing about?

Thinking of stories in novels where a few days in a cave is a thousand years in the world, and one returns from seclusion to find their beloved long gone and friends turned to dust, Zhang Mu understood in his heart.

With a solemn face, he searched his mind for a grand speech to show his loyalty. "If you do not cast me aside, I, Bu, am willing—no, wait, wrong script, Mr. Pot—"

"Shut up!" Potter stood up with a dark expression. "What nonsense."

"Class begins."

"Oh."

Zhang Mu lowered his head and answered, feeling very regretful that he didn't get to express his loyalty. Suddenly remembering the magic book, he hurriedly looked up.

"Mr. Potter, I've already learned the Fireball Spell."

Potter, who was rummaging through herbs on the workbench, slowly turned around, stared at him for a while, and asked, "Are you still dreaming, or am I?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you aren't awake, then you're talking in your sleep. If I'm not awake, then you're talking in your sleep inside my dream."

So either way, I'm the one talking in my sleep.

Rolling his eyes, Zhang Mu put on a serious face. "I'm serious."

Potter fell silent, wondering in his heart if giving him a magic book yesterday had harmed him.

Look, the little guy got too excited and lost his mind.

He was so sure for that same reason: learning from a magic book and practicing a Meditation Method are two different things.

The President of the Mages Guild of the Lake Kingdom and Potter himself were living examples.

The President took two and a half years to succeed in practicing the Meditation Method; Potter followed at his heels, taking five years.

But in terms of magical achievements and the speed of advancement, Potter far surpassed the President.

If they were to fight now, Potter could crush the President with one hand.

Potter sighed. "You say you've already mastered the Fireball Spell?"

"Yeah."

"Then manifest a fireball."

Zhang Mu raised his right hand in a hollow grip and channeled mana toward his palm. A cluster of flames appeared out of thin air, maintained for about three seconds before dispersing with a 'bang.'

He looked a bit embarrassed. "I just learned it; I'm still a bit rusty."

"Hmm..." Potter's brows were furrowed as he paced back and forth in the room.

After pacing for a few minutes, he suddenly lay down on the floor, threw his staff aside, crossed his palms over his chest, and closed his eyes.

Zhang Mu listened for a while; his breathing was steady, and he had already entered a baby-like sleep.

"Mr. Potter?"

Squatting beside him, Zhang Mu's mouth twitched. "Please find the courage to face reality, Mr. Potter."

"Scram!" Potter said with a distorted face. "I'm not awake! I'm not awake, do you understand?!"

"A dream, this must be a dream!"

"Sleeping, sleeping," he muttered, returning to his previous sleeping position. "When I wake up, I'll be able to wake from this illusory dream."

This old man is just like a child.

Zhang Mu rubbed the back of his head and said in a tone like coaxing a baby, "Fine, fine, it's all a dream. Can we just have class in the dream?"

After a long time, probably realizing he couldn't escape reality, Potter finally climbed up slowly.

"You've really mastered the Fireball Spell?"