Pègre

Chapitre 18

The classroom was in a state of suspension. When they resumed their activities, it was filled with a cacophony of voices as students rose from the floor, bewildered.

Looking at his chair and the others with bewilderment, the principal clutched his hands and groaned loudly. Two students ran out.

Go prepare to call the doctor. The dean rushed into the classroom.

He grabbed the principal's hand, only to see that the first knuckle of the hand had been completely worn away, exposing the bone underneath.

A thick stream of blood gushed out. The principal was pale, partly from pain and partly from surprise.

After the finger was bandaged, the dean asked the principal about the situation. The principal looked blank and said he was giving a hand bandage to a classmate at the time.

Scholars approached Hegel's *Science of Logic* without any apparent abnormality; when discussing its most brilliant parts, he even...

The students read the original text aloud, and the students followed suit.

Hearing this, Leng Xin suddenly interrupted the dean: "Wait, you said you were reading aloud, and the students were following suit."

"Shall I have you read this?"

“Yes,” the principal said with a smile, “have you thought of something?”

“If I’m not mistaken, he has the same idea as me.” The dean smiled approvingly.

When the dean heard the principal say that, he suddenly realized something and was taken aback. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that this was indeed the case.

However, this idea was so bizarre that cold sweat kept breaking out on his forehead.

"What's wrong?" The principal was very worried when he saw him like this, and at the same time guessed that his behavior must be related to his own.

The mysterious injury is related to, "What happened?"

The dean had always held the principal in high esteem and admiration, especially since he was merely a bystander in this matter, while the principal...

The person involved told the principal everything he had seen.

The principal found these words utterly absurd and laughable, and looked at the dean with a strange gaze, as if he were looking at a...

He's a madman. The dean knew he didn't believe him; not only the principal, but even he himself was filled with doubt about what he had just witnessed.

He didn't know if it was true or not. So he and the principal went back to the classroom.

The classroom was in complete chaos, with students whispering amongst themselves, while countless words written in blood were prominently displayed on the blackboard.

When the students saw the principal come in, they immediately surrounded him, asking what had happened.

When the principal saw the blood-written words, and recalled the brief moment he regained consciousness, he indeed saw the students standing up from the ground.

He believed the dean's words to a great extent.

Suddenly, a loud "thump" sound came from the classroom, and everyone looked in the direction of the sound.

It turned out that a student's chair had suddenly fallen apart, causing him to fall to the ground. The student stood up sheepishly, his mouth...

Li muttered to himself, "That's strange, it's a brand new chair, how could it be broken?" The other classmates chimed in, "Yes..."

"Oh, my chair looks like it's about to fall apart too." All the chairs in the classroom were wobbling precariously.

The principal's lips were pressed tightly together; he was still unable to gather his thoughts, but he knew that this matter absolutely could not be allowed to happen to the students.

The students need to know or spread the word, otherwise it might cause panic. The students might not be too concerned about the chair falling apart yet.

I wanted to, but how should I interpret the blood-written words on the blackboard?

The students discussed it for a while, then quieted down, their bright eyes looking at the principal, hoping for an answer.

He didn't know how to answer.

---Magpie Bridge Fairy

Reply [29]: While I was deep in thought, the class monitor came up. She was a very well-behaved girl, and she said softly, "Principal,"

"How's your finger?" He was trying to figure out how to answer when the girl picked up the eraser and started erasing the blackboard.

The blood-written words disappeared under the eraser, much to his surprise, but he noticed that the students seemed completely unfazed.

Only the dean, who shared his astonishment, found it strange.

After wiping the blackboard clean, the girl threw the eraser aside and was about to step down from the podium. At that moment, the principal suddenly noticed her...

Her palms were completely stained with blood. "Your hands!" he exclaimed involuntarily. She looked down and smiled.

Laughing: "Oh dear, I've gotten chalk dust all over my face."

Why wasn't she scared at all? Why weren't any of the students scared at all?

"What color are her hands?" he suddenly asked.

“White!” one student answered, then added, “She’s Asian, so theoretically she should be…”

It was yellow, but now it's been stained white by chalk dust. The whole class laughed mischievously.

He and the dean exchanged a glance, both their eyes filled with astonishment and uncertainty. The girl's hands were vividly red.

Why did all the classmates say it was white? Her hands were clearly covered in blood, so why did everyone say it was chalk dust?

The more he thought about it, the colder he felt, and goosebumps appeared on his face.

The girl washed her hands at the tap at the back of the classroom; the clear water flowed over her palms, staining them red. She washed...

Then, her hands were clean, and she turned back with a smile. She was actually a very cute girl, but the principal and dean thought...

Her smile at that time was terrifying.

The students in the classroom were also lively and lovely young people, and their smiles were something the principal had always appreciated.

What I saw at that moment was terrifying.

He didn't know if he had gone mad or if these children were just cold-blooded.

He felt that the classroom was filled with an eerie atmosphere, and even the bright sunlight seemed to carry a hint of mystery.

The dean shared the same feeling; the two elderly men spontaneously clasped hands tightly, sharing a common hatred for the enemy.

The girl's used blackboard eraser was on the podium; both of them looked up at the same time, only to find it completely clean.

There was no blood, not even chalk dust; it was a brand new blackboard eraser.

They felt dizzy.

"Principal, are you alright?" The students noticed his pale face and came up to ask with concern. He stared at him.

Those clear eyes sent chills down my spine.

---Magpie Bridge Fairy

Reply [30]: "It's okay, the principal's finger was pierced by a nail, everyone study on your own!" The dean dragged the principal out of the classroom.

Upon arriving at the office, the principal's first question was, "Are we dreaming?"

They were certainly not dreaming; the wound on his finger was still throbbing with pain.

When the principal mentioned earlier that he had led the class in reading aloud excerpts from the book during his lectures, the dean had already formed some ideas.

However, at that time, the principal did not believe him, and this idea was beyond people's normal understanding, so he temporarily held back.

Now that the principal believed what had happened, he told him what he had thought.

According to the principal, he was writing on the blackboard while reciting passages from the book, and the students sat in their chairs and followed along.

Recitation.

What the dean observed was that the principal had not recited any text, and the material he used for writing on the blackboard was not powder.

They used their fingers, not pens; and the students didn't sit in chairs to recite; they all sat silently on the floor.

Their chairs sat on them. There was no reading in the classroom at that time, only the strange noises of chalk and chairs.

However, this strange sound does indeed resemble a recitation led by chalk.

After listening to the dean's analysis, the principal had a general understanding of his thinking, but he was still a little incredulous.

The dean concluded that the principal and chalk, the students and chairs, had switched roles. In other words, when...

The principal at that time actually played the role of the chalk, while the students played the role of the chairs. Naturally, the chalk and...

The chairs served as both the principal and the students.

“That’s what I think too.” Leng Xin nodded after listening to the dean’s words. “But why can’t the students see the black?”

Where are the words written in blood on the board?

"This is something we've never understood either," the principal said. "We originally planned to treat this as a nightmare."

Forget about the dream. But then Xiao Guang and Liu Yongze's deaths were so bizarre, and now this has happened again. If...

If we continue to turn a blind eye, even stranger things might happen next.

Leng Xin was still a little puzzled: "Principal, how did you become so sure I was involved in this?"

The principal chuckled: "I don't think you're involved in this, but I know you're definitely investigating it."

Affection."

“Because,” the dean smiled like an old fox, “the principal’s surname is He.”

"Surname He? What does that have to do with my question?" After asking this inexplicably, Leng Xin suddenly remembered something.

Qing immediately understood the key point and suddenly realized, "Is Uncle He your older brother or your younger brother?"

"I told you this child is very smart," the principal chuckled as he said to the dean. "Uncle He, well, he's a distant friend of mine."

Brother. "