In the following ten days, Jeming lived like a clockwork-powered learning machine.

Ever since he developed the hypothesis that "the world’s knowledge might come from other fallen wizards," an unprecedented sense of "taking advantage" crazily grew in his heart.

Learning the core knowledge of other wizards for free?

This kind of opportunity, as long as any wizard encounters it, can be called a once-in-a-lifetime experience, almost impossible to replicate!

If his previous obsession with learning was still driven by a researcher’s instinctive thirst for the unknown and a wizard’s respect for knowledge,

now, this motivation carried a few more traces of an almost bandit-like frenzy.

During this period, Jeming almost opened his eyes solely for studying, whether attending lectures in the classroom or consulting materials in the library.

Alternatively, he would use his personal terminal to connect to academic databases, furiously downloading, reading, and understanding those profound theories and applied technologies.

His tireless determination not only drew sideways glances from his classmates and teachers but even made his "parents" apprehensive.

They repeatedly advised him to pay attention to his health and strike a balance between work and rest.

Jeming verbally agreed, yet his body honestly continued to plunge into the ocean of knowledge.

It wasn’t until a rest day over ten days later that he reluctantly raised his head from the sea of learning.

Today was the day of the "Clean Ocean" volunteer activity.

Essentially, the so-called Clean Ocean activity was volunteers manually cleaning up the garbage along a designated coastline.

Given the technological level of this world, such work could be efficiently done by cost-effective automated robots.

But according to community managers, maintaining such activities was to "enhance citizens’ environmental consciousness" and "promote community interaction" — a typical form-over-function social behavior.

Jeming arrived at the designated beach meeting point and registered for the event with the administrator.

He received a biodegradable large black trash bag and a long-handled grabber, and was assigned a beach area to be responsible for.

His eyes seemingly casually scanned the dispersing crowd of volunteers, quickly locking onto that familiar figure.

Viola was dressed in a light athletic outfit, wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat, holding a grabber and trash bag.

A flawless gentle smile on her face, she elegantly picked up the scattered debris on the beach.

A small circle seemed to naturally form around her, both men and women were willing to chat with her.

Jeming didn’t rush over immediately.

He, like other ordinary volunteers, kept his head down, seriously cleaning up garbage in his assigned area, patiently waiting for the opportunity.

Midway through the activity, the organizer announced a fifteen-minute break.

Only then did the volunteers relax and finish their work, gathering in small groups under the shade that provided drinking water.

Jeming inconspicuously slowed his pace, adjusted his direction, and just happened to "bump into" Viola also heading towards the rest area.

"Senior Sister Viola? What a coincidence." Jeming showed an appropriately surprised expression, with a hint of fatigue.

"It’s Jeming, indeed such a coincidence." Viola smiled in response, her gaze pausing on his face for a moment. "It seems Amy was right; you’ve been studying really hard lately, you look a bit tired."

"Yes, my parents have been nagging me about it for a while, saying I would start growing mushrooms if I don’t go out, so they insisted I come out for some activity."

Jeming shrugged helplessly, then said with a bit of "surprise" in his tone:

"I didn’t expect you, Senior Sister, to also participate in such activities, and judging by how people greet you, you seem like a regular here?"

Viola’s smile remained perfect: "Yes, I do frequently participate in various public activities. It feels very meaningful to contribute a part to society."

If someone else heard this, they might feel she is kind and socially responsible.

But Jeming, knowing her true nature, deliberately showed a subtle expression: "I really couldn’t tell, Senior Sister Viola, you are such a caring person."

Hearing this, Viola’s smile slightly deepened with a subtle arc, and a barely discernible playfulness flashed in her beautiful eyes.

She lowered her voice, speaking in a volume only the two of them could hear:

"Spirit of dedication? Perhaps. But... it seems you should already know about my situation from Amy, right?"

"Honestly, watching these volunteers laboring under the scorching sun, with aching backs and tired yet persevering looks on their faces... that subtle sense of ’pain’ also brings me quite a bit of joy."

Jeming instantly broke out in a cold sweat upon hearing this.

Remembering the group of men and women gathering beside him just now, Jeming suddenly thought of something: "So, the reason you were mingling with those people earlier was to supervise whether they were working hard?"

Viola laughed upon hearing this: "Oh my, don’t say it so harshly; I was merely encouraging them to contribute to the community."

Indeed!

Still that same taste!

Jeming laughed dryly, not knowing what to say for a moment.

Can you only say it’s worthy of Senior Sister?

Even if she changes her life, she can still find ways to appreciate others’ pain from the moral high ground.

...Normal people probably can’t think of this even if they rack their brains.

At this moment, he keenly felt a gaze full of obvious hostility shot from slightly behind him.

He subtly tilted his head, catching out the corner of his eye a young, fairly handsome male volunteer frowning at him.

Especially when he saw him conversing with Viola, the discontent in his gaze almost overflowed.

Jeming remembered him; he was the most attentive among those surrounding Viola before.

Jeming blinked, suddenly "realized," and turned to Viola to ask, "Senior Sister Viola, is that your boyfriend with you? But he doesn’t seem the same as the one I saw with you at the mall last time?"

Viola wasn’t embarrassed but instead seemed like she’d been asked a fascinating topic, eagerly sharing: "Oh, you mean the one before? That’s in the past."

"Though I had heard from Amy, I didn’t expect it so quickly..." Jeming listened, his eyelids twitching.

But Viola looked at the distant male, laughing with wicked humor.

She intentionally leaned even closer to Jeming, almost touching his ear: "The previous one was a very talented artist, emotionally rich and sensitive. I merely used a little ’misunderstanding’ and ’indifference’ when he loved me most to make him think I had fallen for someone else."

"You should’ve seen his collapsed, painful, incredulous expression; it was like a masterpiece! It was amazing!"

As she described the other’s pain, the gleam in her eyes was one Jeming knew well — a pure appreciation and delight for "pain" itself.

"And after resolving the misunderstanding later, he showed me new pain..."

With Viola’s chatter in his ear and the hostile gaze behind him almost becoming tangible, Jeming realized.

He unobtrusively shifted to the side, looking at Viola with a bitter smile: "Senior Sister, are you talking to me here for so long perhaps because... you enjoy the ’jealousy’ and ’unease’ your current boyfriend is feeling right now?"

Viola didn’t shy away, even nodding approvingly: "Very perceptive, Junior Jeming. Observing the subtle pain others experience due to emotions is one of the highest pleasures."

They were about to say more when someone called Viola’s name loudly from not far away, seemingly an event organizer needing her.

Realizing this brief contact was about to end, Jeming suddenly spoke: "Senior Sister, there’s one last thing."

"Hmm? What’s that?" Viola stopped turning, looking at him in puzzlement.

And at that moment.

Jeming’s face retained its light smile from the conversation, but his right hand suddenly lifted, delivering a straight punch at Viola’s nose with lightning speed and without warning!

Though his physical strength was suppressed, enhanced by extreme technique, the punch was still fast, precise, and fierce, with whistling force!

In a flash, before Viola’s smile fully faded, her body instinctively reacted—her head tilted sideways at a small and precise angle, moving fluidly and rapidly, something no untrained person could achieve!

The evasive posture held a hint of some combat technique.

The fist whistled past, brushing against a few strands of her hair.

Almost simultaneously, Jeming’s fist turned into a hand.

His fingers gently brushed Viola’s temple, plucking a tiny dry leaf from her silver-gray hair.

His smile unchanged, as if the previous astonishing move was an illusion, he spoke lightly: "Now there’s no problem, Senior Sister. You had a leaf in your hair; I took it off for you."

Viola stood frozen, her face losing some color.

Those eyes usually filled with smiles or jest showed clear surprise, caution, and a hint of fear for the first time.

She stared at Jeming for a few seconds, her lips moving, but in the end, said nothing.

Just stepped back quickly, speaking in an unprecedentedly distant tone: "Thank you... I’ll go now."

After saying that, she turned and walked quickly toward the group calling her, almost as if fleeing.

Jeming stood, his formal smile slowly fading.

He grabbed the half-full, large black trash bag, expressionless as he turned.

In the opposite direction of Viola, he walked away steadily, step by step.

On the sunny beach, volunteers continued chatting and resting.

No one noticed the thrilling tension hidden in that brief interaction.

But Jeming knew; the test had yielded a result.