Late at night, the light in Lu Yun’s office still burned. He pored tirelessly over a combat report submitted by Ouyang Tao.

The document was meticulously detailed—every nuance worthy of study. Lu Yun’s eyes never left the pages as his hand habitually lifted the coffee cup to his lips. *Huh. Empty already?*

He checked the time: 3:30 AM. Since becoming a professor, he hadn’t pulled an all-nighter like this in years.

The Augustus College Council had taken a cautious stance on the Inverted Cross Legion matter. But since it fell beyond the academy’s jurisdiction, they’d ordered Lu Yun to cease involvement and focus solely on replicating Lucifer’s Crown.

Lu Yun held no objections. The Inverted Cross Legion was a globally designated terrorist organization. Augustus College was, at its core, a military academy. Handling such threats belonged to specialized agencies—this case was effectively closed.

Besides, research was Lu Yun’s true calling. And Ouyang Tao’s report had ignited his curiosity.

It didn’t just chronicle the battle. It detailed weapon modifications, deployment methods, and radical redesign proposals. Clearly, Ouyang Tao had drawn profound inspiration: he envisioned abandoning traditional mech frameworks—where weapons and chassis remained separate—and instead integrating armaments directly into the Mech’s core systems.

He went further. He proposed specializing mech functions and organizing them into combat legions—a complete reversal of current design philosophies.

Modern military mechs prioritized versatility and adaptability. Units were built as self-sufficient fighters, then tiered by power and scale.

Ouyang Tao argued the opposite: strip functions into dedicated modules. Design each weapon and mech for a single purpose. Then coordinate them in synchronized warfare.

Most professors would dismiss this as reckless—even heretical. But Lu Yun saw something familiar. He’d encountered similar theories over twenty years ago.

He stood up.

Crossing to his office safe, he unlocked it and retrieved a small metal case. After disengaging two locks, he lifted out slightly yellowed documents—surviving fragments of his mentor Professor Lin Shixiong’s unpublished manuscripts.

Lin Shixiong had never shared these. Their foundation relied on harnessing powerful Lost Technology from antiquity. Without that core, the concepts were useless. And Lin Shixiong had refused to pursue the necessary tech further. His research revealed its terrifying potential: weapons of absolute annihilation.

Of course, possessing these files was grounds for dismissal.

Lu Yun knew his office was bugged—listening devices and cameras monitored every corner. Yet he calmly laid Lin Shixiong’s notes beside Ouyang Tao’s report.

All of Lin Shixiong’s critical works were encrypted. The pages before Lu Yun held only cryptic symbols—unreadable to anyone but him.

After careful comparison, Lu Yun’s pulse quickened. The documents were strikingly similar. Their core theories? Nearly identical.

*Coincidence?*

His gaze lingered on Ouyang Tao’s name. This student demanded closer attention.