Academic gathering with a lich

The communication along the way deeply shocked Lyle with Andrey's vast knowledge, also wiping away any psychological advantage he felt as a transmigrator. Potential is determined by vision; what do you do when your vision, knowledge reserve, and power are all inferior to someone else's?

If you can't beat them, join them.

The recruitment fair on the third floor resembled an exhibition, where societies displayed their knowledge and achievements for all to see, some chose to showcase their martial prowess.

The first thing that caught one's eye was an enormous vacant exhibit stand; it was impossible not to notice it, for it was simply too dazzling.

Golden steps and white marble pillars. A giant banner hung in the air, pulled by two angelic figures. Sacred hymns filled the ears while clouds imbued with the glow of the sunrise acted as dry ice, lending the stand the essence of a dreamy fantasy. The characters on the banner were outlined in gold and shimmered brilliantly under the faux sunlight.

The Holy Light Almighty Sect welcomes you!

...

It all felt so dreamlike. Approaching the stand was akin to walking into paradise. Ideally, if an angel stood under the banner to welcome newcomers, it would be the finishing touch to an unforgettable painting.

"That's Mr. Raymond's Hall of Holy Light."

Angels bearing heavy armor were getting hit on the second floor…

"Very beautiful," Lyle couldn't help but exclaim in admiration. In the face of such an imposing and righteous spectacle, Lyle simply couldn't bring himself to speak ill of it. What else could be done but to envy the power of the Holy Light? "Isn't there anyone else to recruit members for Mr. Raymond?"

"... This society has only Mr. Raymond as a member. Although Andrey has a rule about not being able to establish a society with insufficient members, there are always exceptions. We still retain some barbaric traditions; power is the ultimate truth."

"When you can suppress all opposing voices with force, rules become nothing more than your servants."

Lyle's impression of Mr. Raymond's capacity to draw hatred improved a notch; with two thousand eight hundred societies managing to function, yet Mr. Raymond couldn't recruit even one person.

"The students' detachment from Holy Light is one aspect; another reason is that Mr. Raymond has one more requirement for members to join: a kind soul."

"That's also why Mr. Raymond, despite the headmaster's opposition, cast Detect Evil during the welcoming fair. He's looking for a suitable member."

"I remember that today's batch was practically wiped out."

"To be judged as a pure soul is not so easy. Though I'm not clear about the Holy Light's judging criteria, the majority of Andrey's members have lost their awe for the world. What remains is their incessant thirst for knowledge. Probably only truly untainted souls and the Holy Light fanatics can be deemed kind-hearted."

"What if Mr. Raymond finds someone who meets his standards?"

"That would truly be the gentleman's tragedy."

"Hmm?"

"Pure souls have appeared before. Not long ago, there was an Andrey member deemed kind-hearted. Mr. Raymond subjected him to endless persuasion, nonstop influence, and boundary-pushing harassment."

"And that person gave in?"

"That person turned himself in to the church. It's said that when he was about to be burned at the stake, he said 'I'd rather be turned to ashes by the Holy Light than submit to your tyranny.'"

"..." Lyle suddenly had an ominous premonition.

"It's unfortunate that the gentleman in Andrey neither acquired nor spread knowledge. Had Mr. Raymond discovered him a few years later, perhaps the outcome would've been different."

"Is there now a way to contain Mr. Raymond?" Lyle viewed Mr. Raymond as a flood and ferocious beast.

"There is a way to delay Mr. Raymond's entanglement."

Just delay? Is there no way to cure the disease?

The gentleman saw through Lyle's thoughts, "A permanent solution has always existed, but no one has been able to achieve it."

The most thorough method was simple: remove Mr. Raymond.

Without continuing on this topic, Lyle began to look around.

The Hall of Holy Light took the prime position. Not far away, there was a booth that went to the extreme opposite of the Holy Light's style.

A marble table carved with dense thorn patterns, a black curtain as the backdrop adorned with stars, a gentleman in full black sitting there, where ancient parchments piled high. A chair with an elaborate cross on the backrest faced the long table.

The gentleman approached, leaning on the table with his left hand, transferring his weight onto its surface.

"Mr. Journalist, is the theme night and dreams again this year?"

Mr. Journalist paused his writing, "What can I do? It's the president's decision. If I could, I'd also like to wear a colorful dress. I've just got a genuine one from Scotland and wanted to try it on for the recruitment fair."

Mr. Journalist and the gentleman were very familiar with each other.

"You should have guessed, as long as Mr. Dark is here, our recruitment theme will never change."

This was the once-notorious Dark Council... the Literary Society.

They didn't even have a banner; perhaps it was Mr. Dark's resentment toward the society's name.

"How's tonight's harvest?"

Mr. Journalist patted the stack of parchment beside him, "One hundred and eighty-two articles were collected, from which twenty outstanding pieces were selected. It just so happens that Mr. Daydreamer is currently looking for inspiration, and these can be shown to him."

Do you see that, Mr. Raymond? The Holy Light can't save your social circle.

"And who might this be?" Mr. Journalist noticed Lyle, who stood silently beside, with a rich inner drama unfolding within him.

"The Plague Doctor, a new friend with an exceptional understanding of medical knowledge," Andrey interjected.

"The one who researches the bodily functions of living beings?"

"That would be considered a part of medicine."

"Impressive, Plague Doctor, to possess such extensive professional knowledge. Your articles must be quite unique. Have you considered joining the literary club? Since you are introduced by a gentleman, there's no need for an assessment. How about we grant you immediate membership if you agree?"

What a great gentleman, what terrific connections.

"Would that be appropriate?"

"Not a problem, I trust the gentleman's judgment."

"Mr. Journalist, I didn't approach Plague Doctor with the literary society in mind."

"Ah~" Mr. Journalist let out a meaningful hum, eyeing Lyle with a curious gaze, "No matter, joining the literary club won't be a hindrance, right? How about it, Plague Doctor, the offer stands."

"Please allow me to think it over."

"No worries, even if the recruitment event ends, the door of the literary society is always open to newcomers. However, I won't be here for long, so afterwards, you'll have to rely on the gentleman to take you to the literary club for a visit."

"Alright."

Plague Doctor and Lyle moved on to other exhibition halls.

"Mr. Journalist seems quite... anxious."

"The recruitment period for the literary club is relatively short compared to other clubs."

"Why? Shouldn't the time be consistent across clubs?"

"Because Mr. Raymond will be done getting thrashed soon and will come back."

The literary society was a major victim of Raymond's oppression, and Mr. Journalist was eager to see it close its doors.

Let's pray for Mr. Journalist for a second.

"Plague Doctor."

"What is it, Mr. Gentleman?"

Mr. Gentleman pondered his choice of words, "Plague Doctor... why did you... attempt to consume... vegetable soup?"

What does he mean? Why do people eat food? Is it a philosophical question? It seemed Mr. Gentleman was overly fixated on the matter, so Lyle decided to give a straightforward answer.

"To survive. If you don't eat, you die."

"..." Mr. Gentleman stroked the bottom of his mask, which was the area of his chin, and after a few seconds, he had an epiphany.

"Plague Doctor would indeed fit in quite well."

"Fit in with what?"

"The clubs recruiting at the fair aren't all there is to Andrey's, the narrow geography can't accommodate two thousand and eight hundred exhibition halls, so most scholarly societies still retain their traditional recruitment practices."

"Member referrals."

"Members selectively interact with some newcomers and attempt to recruit after testing them."

"So, Mr. Gentleman, you are one such guide as you mentioned?"

"While I indeed have a small task, it's not obligatory. My interaction with Plague Doctor wasn't purpose-driven, primarily out of shared interests. Of course, Plague Doctor also meets my society's standards, which is a bonus for me," he expressed, joy evident in his voice.

A candid gentleman is hard to dislike. So that means I passed his test.

"I remember, the club of Mr. Gentleman isn't that abundant, it's not the literary society..."

"The Cup of Extravagance. Your response to the vegetable soup made me believe that you would be very suitable for my society."

...Although I can't understand what cheap vegetable soup has to do with extravagance, this feeling of being pre-selected, of being marked, is genuinely exhilarating.

"So, shall we head to the activity area of the Cup of Extravagance first?"

"The Cup of Extravagance doesn't have an exhibition hall for itself, it's an exception. Don't rush, after Plague Doctor has finished the tour, we'll head to the society's headquarters."

"Alright."