Ghost Exorciser: The Oust Fake Heiress Strikes-Chapter 322: Creating Trouble

"You can’t board this bus," he said flatly.

Lana frowned.

"Why?"

"The sponsor of this vehicle has declined to allow you to travel with the others."

"Who’s the sponsor?" Lana asked.

The driver remained silent and simply waved other students inside.

As time passed, two familiar figures approached, Tonyo and Raven, her former classmates.

They looked at her and chuckled.

Tonyo smirked.

"What’s wrong? The genius of the Weapon Design Department, who mysteriously disappeared, can’t even get on the bus?"

Raven added mockingly, "Maybe she became such a genius that she abandoned us all."

Lana recognized the hostility instantly.

The two had once been her academic rivals.

Their relationship worsened after rumors spread that Lana looked down on them.

Even though it was later proven false, they had never apologized and continued to treat her as an enemy.

’So they’re still at it,’ Lana thought wearily.

"I’m not interested in arguing," she said calmly. "If you’re done talking, go inside. I’ll deal with the sponsor myself."

Tonyo and Raven exchanged amused looks.

"You really don’t know?" Raven said. "Fine, I’ll be generous enough to tell you."

She leaned closer.

"The sponsor of this bus is none other than your former brother, Garrison."

Lana froze.

Tonyo snorted. "Didn’t expect him to be this heartless after your identity was exposed, huh?"

At that moment, Garrison himself appeared nearby, pretending not to notice her as he headed toward the entrance.

Lana stepped forward and stopped him.

"Are you the sponsor?" she asked calmly.

Garrison looked at her and nodded, a faint sneer forming.

"What do you want?" he asked. "Beg me to let you in?"

Lana shook her head.

She quietly stopped the recording on her phone and met his gaze.

"I just needed some evidence," she said evenly.

"After all, I need to report to the university that sponsors nowadays have become so arrogant that they believe they could purchase authority itself and behave like lawless individuals."

Garrison was taken aback.

From his perspective, Lana standing before him should have already broken down in tears, just like she used to years ago when faced with rejection.

Instead, this Lana stood completely calm, her expression composed, her gaze steady and unshaken.

For a brief moment, he felt an unfamiliar discomfort.

Then he remembered how she used to try so hard to attract Mr. and Mrs. Almond’s attention, always using what he had once dismissed as "little tricks."

Thinking about it now, he convinced himself that nothing had changed.

’She has always been a scheming girl,’ he thought coldly.

Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his expression into one of feigned indifference.

"I’m not letting you in because there’s insufficient space," he said flatly.

The excuse sounded hollow even to his own ears, but he had no choice.

He knew very well that if the university discovered his actual motive, the sponsorship slot he had obtained with such effort would be revoked immediately.

So he forced himself to remain firm, pretending that this was nothing more than a logistical issue.

Lana let out a soft laugh, the sound edged with disbelief, as if she truly could not comprehend how someone could fabricate such a ridiculous excuse.

She folded her arms, her fingers brushing against the smooth fabric of her sleeve.

"Do they really think I am foolish enough to believe this?"

Whenever a sponsor was hired for the university, there was always a calculated estimate of seating and logistics, and that estimate was deliberately kept higher by at least ten seats to avoid inconvenience.

It was common practice, a rule so basic that even a novice would know it.

To claim that there was not enough space for her to sit was not merely an oversight, it was outright stupidity.

She parted her lips, ready to voice her thoughts, irritation already rising in her chest, when Garrison suddenly cut in.

"We are getting later and later," he said sharply. "I will not continue this discussion with you in such an emotional state. Tonyo, Raven, get inside."

Tonyo and Raven exchanged mocking smirks, their expressions dripping with quiet ridicule, and they turned toward the vehicle.

Just as they were about to step in, a loud screech tore through the air.

The sharp sound of brakes echoed across the parking area, making several nearby students flinch. Heads turned instinctively toward the noise.

A massive vanity van had pulled in.

It was enormous, far larger than the one their own sponsor had arranged.

Its sleek surface reflected the afternoon light, and the low hum of its engine carried an air of authority that immediately drew attention.

For a brief moment, Garrison assumed it belonged to another sponsor.

Then the tinted windows rolled down. The door opened. A man stepped out.

Garrison’s face turned pale.

It was Axel, the topmost mystic cultivator teacher.

Garrison knew him very well, not personally, but by reputation and by repeated rejection.

In the past, he had tried countless times to gain Axel’s support, to draw even a fraction of his attention, only to be ignored each time.

’Why is he here now? After all this time?’

The question struck him like a blow. And judging by Axel’s expression, this was not a courtesy visit.

Axel walked straight toward Lana, his steps calm and deliberate, and offered her a faint smile.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Lana blinked in surprise and glanced at the towering vanity van behind him.

Warmth spread through her chest, chasing away the irritation she had felt moments earlier. Through their link, Mr. Crew’s voice resonated calmly.

"He is most likely here to stand up for you. He probably anticipated that Garrison would attempt something like this."

Lana could not help but nod.

’So he came... for me.’ Without hesitation, she walked toward Axel’s vehicle.

Seeing this, Garrison frowned deeply and shouted, "There is an extra seat! Lana, you can come here!"

Lana stopped, turned back, and looked at him with visible annoyance.

"Are you bad at mathematics," she replied flatly, "or simply an idiot?"

Garrison’s fists clenched, his knuckles whitening.

"You should show some respect!" he snapped.