Vol2 Chapter 28: Start

Andrew Gattuso, head of the investigation team, arrived at Cassell College.

As the chief legal counsel for the Gattuso family, a Yale Law graduate alongside several U.S. presidents, he was a hybrid, albeit with limited Word Spirit talent. His first half of life was spent managing the family’s legal affairs, never directly involved in the “College,” their most significant investment. Yet he understood its importance—a money-burning institution more vital than any profit-making venture. It gathered the finest hybrid elites. A hybrid who never set foot in Cassell, never conversed with its tenured professors, or earned their approval was merely second-rate in the eyes of their kind, no matter how successful in the human world.

Today, he seized his chance—not to pilgrimage to the College, but to wield the Board of Directors’ highest authority to impeach its reckless, authoritarian principal.

He would showcase his brilliance before the hybrid elite—his sharp reasoning, airtight logic, and compelling oratory, all honed for this moment.

Andrew Gattuso’s name would be etched in history as a legal genius among hybrids, wielding the sacred Abraham Blood Covenant!

A mere C-rank hybrid, he was now challenging two S-ranks of Cassell College. The thought sent a thrill through him, as if he were a hero charging a dragon.

Andrew wasn’t afraid of failure—nor did he believe he could fail.

He pulled out two photos. The first showed her intercepting the Bronze and Fire King; the second, her blocking falling stones in the hotel. Both showed degrees of dragonization.

The second was stark. If the first only had dragon scales, the second depicted a half-dragonized girl standing on a table, covered in scales and bone protrusions, menacingly fearsome. Her hands were white claws, her golden eyes radiating an unyielding authority.

Cassell’s S-rank student, Bai Ci.

Monster… so ugly…

Andrew’s lips curled as he tucked the photos away.

He had the mighty Gattuso family backing him. Plus, Caesar Gattuso, the future family head and influential student council president, was here. Andrew trusted Caesar could weigh the stakes.

“Parsi, the hearing’s about to start, right?” Andrew adjusted his collar.

The secretary, Parsi, turned. Assigned by Mr. Frost Gattuso, he was a young man Frost valued highly. Andrew had heard of him before.

“Sir, half an hour left.”

Andrew nodded, satisfied with Parsi’s efficiency. Though less spirited than Andrew in his youth, Parsi was obedient enough. Andrew didn’t like Parsi’s hairstyle—long bangs covering his eyes, hiding his gaze. Avoiding eye contact with a superior was improper, but Andrew let it slide.

In Cassell’s Valhalla, a theater-style meeting hall featured a massive wooden table and platform, resembling an imposing courtroom bench. A gavel and a thick, gold-embossed tome sat beside it, inscribed in Latin: The Abraham Blood Covenant.

In ancient times, the Secret Party established ironclad rules based on this covenant to purge fallen, mad, or impure bloodlines, ensuring internal stability.

The covenant was both the blade to eliminate the corrupt and the shield protecting the Secret Party.

Now, that blade pointed at Bai Ci.

She stood in the center of the hall’s square wooden enclosure, head bowed, silent. She was terrible at handling such settings—crowds staring made her nervous, and nerves muddled her words. In contrast, the jury—department heads and tenured professors in black robes—sat casually at the front. They looked ancient, as if unearthed from graves, with stern faces and varied quirks: some puffed on pipes, others munched celery sticks, one blew bubblegum with piercing eyes.

Bai Ci glanced nervously at the Principal, who’d assured her he’d secured the best defense lawyer. Whatever Andrew said, she just had to deny everything, and she’d be fine.

Taking a deep breath, her anxiety didn’t ease. She looked up, catching a glimpse of King Solomon and the massive relief behind him, then quickly looked down.

She recognized the relief from an exam—Justitia, the Roman goddess of justice, blindfolded, holding a sword and scales, symbolizing fairness.

The blindfold meant she wasn’t swayed by appearances. The sword represented power to punish evil. The scales ensured impartial judgment—nothing more, nothing less.

Which side would Justitia take?

Then, a figure in a gaudy pink shirt, built like a bear, with a sleazy yet radiant grin, strode in and took the defense lawyer’s seat.

Bai Ci’s vision darkened.

Principal, this is your “reliable” lawyer?

She’d imagined a sharp, upright attorney in a crisp suit, reciting the covenant backward.

Not Fingel, the gluttonous senior always hanging with Lu Mingfei.

Principal, are you trying to get me killed?

Not just Bai Ci—Lu Mingfei, Zero, and Xia Mi felt their hearts sink. With Fingel’s scatterbrained nature, a case warranting twenty years could turn into an immediate death sentence after his defense.

You sure he knows the Abraham Blood Covenant? He can’t even memorize school rules!

Bai Ci shot a pleading look at the Principal, hoping it was a mistake. Angers nodded confidently. The Vice-Principal had recommended Fingel, and though Angers was surprised Fingel hadn’t graduated, they needed people now. Fingel had volunteered, citing his concern for his junior’s future. With such confidence, Angers, as a great educator, had no reason not to trust his student.

Bai Ci felt doomed.

Andrew was quietly shocked. Bai Ci didn’t look like a monster but a shy, unconfident girl.

In his mind, a woman with blood pure enough to dragonize should be icy, fiery, or demonic—not insecure. Even a female Caesar wouldn’t surprise him.

But this timid, gaze-dodging demeanor shouldn’t belong to an S-rank.

Then it hit him.

This is all Angers’ scheme!

It was a facade—Angers had sheathed her edge, like a scabbard hiding a deadly blade, making the unaware overlook her lethality.

Vile demon, drop the act! I see through you!

Emboldened, Andrew straightened, glaring at Bai Ci as if to tear apart the devil within her.

Feeling his stare, she met his eyes for two seconds before looking away.

Andrew smirked, smug. Feeling guilty, huh?

Investigation team leader… why’s he glaring like that? Shooting lightning with his eyes? This guy seems like an idiot.

With everyone present, King Solomon tapped the gavel, silencing the room.

“I declare the hearing open,” he said solemnly. “The Board’s investigation team and the College’s administration disagree on S-rank student Bai Ci’s bloodline. We hold this hearing for open discussion.”

“In prior materials, the investigation team condemns the administration’s negligence, while the administration calls the accusation”—he read from a document—“‘frog-in-a-well nonsense.’ I’m quoting the Vice-Principal verbatim. Regrettably, I don’t fully grasp this phrase.”