At the end of the Famous Masters Pavilion’s river, inside a square, milky-white lecture hall, rows of Primordial-tier Geniuses sat on floating seats carved with simple patterns, listening with keen interest.
At this moment.
Andrew Han entered through the back door of the lecture hall, taking a seat in the last row of floating chairs without drawing anyone’s attention. Only the voluptuous Primordial-Gate Famous Master glanced at him with a playful smile.
It was utterly quiet.
Andrew Han made no sound at all, settling gently into his seat and sweeping his gaze around twice.
The scene before him was reminiscent of a senior high classroom.
The lecture hall had only two doors and no windows. The monotonous, milky-white walls gave a sense of boundless vastness. At this moment, the silence was absolute, and every Primordial-tier Genius present held their breath, focused on the graceful, voluptuous woman at the front.
She stood up front, demonstrating a cosmic model of a neutron star. The alternation of light and darkness was like miniature suns and moons spanning the hall, dazzling and majestic, radiating a chilling, terrifying aura.
“A star has evolved into a neutron star.”
Andrew Han watched in silence, saying nothing.
Suddenly, his expression turned odd. He touched the edge of his floating seat and shook his head with a wry smile.
The seat’s rim was rather sharp, saw-toothed and faintly radiant, easily able to slice through Starlight-tier skin. If an ordinary mortal sat here, they’d likely die instantly. Who on earth designed such an absurd seat?
Utterly anti-human!
This triggered a ripple of thought in Andrew Han, and he instantly recalled his home on Earth. Everyday life there was full of bizarre, ridiculous designs.
Like the combo sockets with three and two prongs—yet you could only use one at a time. Or the subway hand-loops, set so high that anyone under one-sixty centimeters couldn’t reach. He even thought of the infamous login CAPTCHAs from Sinovera’s railway site—who knew how they were designed, but passing on the first try was a pipe dream; ten attempts was nothing unusual.
“Sigh.”
“My homesickness is getting worse,” Andrew Han muttered, shaking his head to dispel stray thoughts, refocusing on the woman up front.
“For Sealed Celestial-path beings, neutron star matter is a rare cosmic delicacy,” the woman explained with a smile, elaborating on the terror of neutron stars: “Below the Cosmos Union Tier, Sealed Celestial-path beings can hardly ever touch the surface of a neutron star themselves.”
Hearing this, Andrew Han’s eyes sparkled.
He hadn’t forgotten his original motive for coming: to try and make a cosmic delicacy for Little Meng and Lucy Han.