He heeded Dematero’s suggestion, storming through the back door of Css Three and into the "forbidden zone," where the "dark turmoil" was unfolding!

  He didn’t even bother to leave himself an escape route, mainly because the back door of Css Three was the very spot where he had previously "retreated" in disgrace. This time, he was convinced that he could make a triumphant return…

  However, barely a few steps in, he couldn’t help but excim, "Woah, it stinks!" "What the hell is that foul smell?" At that moment, he finally grasped the true meaning of "biochemical crisis!"

  Just then, the battle between the "Laughing Fart Queen" and the "Poop King" reached its fever pitch!

  Matthew Tan, who had just been forcibly fed his own excrement by Hera, was, understandably, in a state of furious rage!

  Since Hera had dared to feed him his own filth, he was determined to repay the favor in kind!

  Conveniently, the opponent had just unleashed a hefty pile himself, soft yet firm-- perfect for throwing!

  In his fury, Matthew couldn’t care less about the grossness of it all; having eaten his own excrement, was there anything that could disgust him further?!

  He scooped up a particurly odious clump, and, in the heat of battle, hurled it toward the back door where Hera stood…

  As fate would have it, she deftly sidestepped this potentially lethal projectile.

  Unfortunately for him, the clump struck Director Dublin El Murrin square in the face!

  Fortunately, Dublin didn’t utter a word; otherwise, he would have found himself among the fortunate few experiencing the delights of such… a unique projectile today.

  Although he escaped the direct hit, his beloved Tyrannosaurus Rex sungsses were not so lucky-- they were now covered in the foul substance!

  Meanwhile, Makarios El Eudoxios, who had been observing the "dark turmoil" while narrating the events like a storyteller, couldn’t hold back his ughter, eagerly announcing, "The ‘Poop King’ truly lives up to his name as a mysterious transfer student from beyond! Even the revered Terror has faced a great camity today; his treasured artifact has been utterly sullied!"

  Dublin, feeling the revolting stench on his face and menting the fate of his precious sungsses, was fuming with indignation!

  After all these years, having witnessed countless spectacles, he had never encountered anything quite like this!!!

  "Good Lucifer, how revolting! A fight is one thing, but to hurl faeces as well?!"

  In a voice that resonated like a lion’s roar, Dublin bellowed, "Stop pying with faeces! Do you hear me? Cease this nonsense at once! I am the Director of the Political Education Office; do you wish to face disciplinary action?!"

  It must be said, Dublin’s position as "Terror Director" or the "Leader of the Great Terrorists" had a considerable deterrent effect. Luckily, he was there, for otherwise, these two "warriors" might have continued indefinitely without a victor…

  At st, Matthew and Hera paused their skirmish, joined by Dublin, who had rashly stepped into the "dark forbidden zone." All three bore the marks of battle, or rather, "excremental mementoes."

  Matthew’s mouth was smeared with the foul substance, while Hera’s face was spttered, having faced the brunt of the "Poop King's" offensive. As for Dublin, his sungsses were likewise covered.

  Outside the back door, Makarios, the closest "war correspondent," summoned enough courage to whip out his phone and capture the moment…

  Encouraging this audacity was Chica, another "battlefield journalist" in spirit.

  Though she was unsure just how many favors she had bilked from Hera, she felt justified in her actions-- one must stab in the back when the opportunity arises!

  In a fit of generosity, she chose not to take the photos herself, but instead shared her "war correspondent" spirit with Makarios.

  "Brilliant job, Makarios! You’ve got quite the eye for capturing a scene. Look at the epic composition of the three kings in confrontation, the interpy of light and shadow, and their myriad expressions-- who would have thought you had such talent!" Chica whispered, genuinely impressed.

  Makarios smiled slightly, his acne-riddled face adopting a serious expression akin to that of an academic, "Photography is an art; those who merely py with their equipment truly don’t understand! Do you comprehend the weight of my experience in reviewing countless images?"

  Chica’s curiosity piqued, "What sort of images? I quite like those tales of camaraderie in gang films."

  She hoped that everyone in the world could be honorable, for then she could freely enjoy the benefits of camaraderie, epitomizing the highest form in her understanding.

  Unfazed by his reputation, Makarios confessed, "I only watch adult films! My filming techniques are entirely inspired by those works; have you heard of the director Johnny Mints? He’s quite something."

  Chica was left dumbfounded. Can one really learn filming techniques from that genre?

  As they whispered to one another, an increasing number of Css Three students outside the cssroom took notice of the spectacle-- the "Terror" facing a veritable "catastrophe"…

  Before long, someone broke the tension with a snort of ughter, leading to a ripple of mirth that swept through the crowd!

  Director of the Political Education Office, Dublin, had been haunted by the memory of his recent encounter with the so-called "Divine Spirit" song that echoed through the corridor outside Css 1-3. Defeated and humiliated, he clung to this moment of "shame" like a bitter reminder.

  It was a golden opportunity to assert his authority and catch students in the act, yet it had slipped through his fingers. The mere thought of it left him feeling deeply dissatisfied.

  Who was Dublin, after all? He was the foremost figure among the Four Great Terrorists of Thessaloniki First High School, a man whose name instilled fear throughout the institution!

  His reputation was genuinely formidable, and he was well-known far and wide.

  Students in the second and third years had long since bowed to his intimidating presence, daring only to plot their little acts of revenge after graduating.

  Dublin dismissed such childish tactics; they mattered not to him.

  What truly mattered was that his strict enforcement of school rules received high praise from Principal Hercuno.

  His zealous approach as the head of the Political Education Office had pyed a crucial role in refining the school’s environment, transforming an already rigorous academic atmosphere into one of even greater discipline.

  The students simply failed to appreciate his earnest efforts; they were far too immature to understand.

  Now, once again, he found himself back at the scene of his previous "defeat." A gathering had formed in the very pce where he had once faltered, and it was a sight that irked him considerably-- especially given that it occurred just before study hall.

  With swift determination, he rushed over, shouting as he went, yet inwardly, he relished the opportunity-- this was indeed a stroke of luck!

  It was precisely why he preferred to patrol the campus during evening study hours or on Saturdays. The mischief-makers often caused trouble during these times, when they felt most emboldened to break school rules.

  Teachers on duty were prone to let their guard down during study periods. A prime example was Bartolomeo El Mundo, the chemistry teacher for Css 3. His frequent tardiness had not gone unnoticed by the more observant students.

  Whenever Bartolomeo was in charge of a study session, even the ringing of the css bell failed to bring an immediate end to conversations. Students continued their banter, relishing the extra moments they could waste in study hall-- much to their delight.

  As Dublin arrived, the students from Css 4, who had initially come to observe the commotion, quickly dispersed upon seeing him.

  This time, they had made a firm decision: should he attempt to "sweep them all up" like st time, they would not stick around to be caught again.

  If it hadn’t been for Xanthia's intervention during the st incident, they would have faced punishment for merely being bystanders, which felt grossly unfair considering they had not instigated any trouble.

  This time, Dublin had learned from his previous mistakes; he did not charge in with the same brute force as before. He had reflected on how his initial failure to establish authority stemmed from inciting public ire, allowing the real troublemakers to evade the consequences of school discipline.

  Now, faced with a simir gathering-- and one even rger than the st-- he had certainly absorbed the lesson and would not repeat his past mistakes.

  Yet, he would never admit that when he had approached to enforce discipline, he had spotted the striking Xanthia amidst the crowd, which caused him to restrain the urge to act decisively.

  This talented, courageous girl held a notable position, having connections with Principal Hercuno, and even Dublin, known for his ironcd reputation, would find his methods bending in her presence.

  Primarily, the wealthy sponsors who donated to prestigious schools like Thessaloniki Foreign Language High School and Thessaloniki First High School contributed funds that often found their way into personal pockets rather than the intended school improvements.

  Everyone was aware that those in higher positions reaped the lion's share, while the lowly teachers merely sipped at the broth. Dublin, as a leader within the institution, certainly benefited from this arrangement.

  Once these affluent familias had made their contributions, their children were generally safe from severe repercussions, provided they did not create significant trouble. The school administration would likely choose to downpy any serious issues-- such was the way of things.

  As for Matthew, he wouldn’t have been easily expelled from the foreign nguage school had he not angered the masses. Being a colteral retive of the Tan family, he dared to offend the highborn Susan La Papadopoulos, whose admirers were numerous. That was indeed a fool's errand!

  This time, Dublin had deliberately offered the students a chance to retreat back to their cssrooms. Yet, aside from the Css 4 students making a hasty exit, those from Css 3 remained unmoved.

  What was going on here?

  Why did Css 3’s cssroom resemble a den of monsters, with no one daring to venture inside?

  "What on earth is happening here? Why aren’t you all preparing for your study session in the cssroom? Why are you gathering in the corridor?" Dublin bellowed.

  The students from Css 3 exchanged uneasy gnces, perhaps intimidated by Dublin's hulking figure and fierce demeanor, which rendered them speechless.

  On top of that, Dublin had donned his prized Tyrannosaurus sungsses today, making him resemble a gangster rather than the school’s authoritative figure-- a fact that only heightened his intimidating presence.

  Dublin had a penchant for wearing sungsses, which often led to rumors among students that he wore them to conceal bruises from being beaten up outside school. It was an unfortunate cycle; each semester, tales would surface about his alleged fights, illustrating just how disliked he was.

  In such an atmosphere, it was surprisingly the mild-mannered Dematero who stepped forward, dispying a maturity far beyond the average high schooler.

  "Teacher, you might want to check the situation for yourself by entering through the back door of the cssroom. Two 'Kingly' individuals from our css have ignited a real conflict, leading to a ‘biohazard’ situation," Dematero stated with utmost seriousness.

  Dublin blinked, perplexed. Why on earth was he having trouble grasping what the boy was saying? "Kingly individuals?"

  Could it be that some renowned pyers from the game Honor of Kings had cshed in the virtual realm, leading to a physical confrontation in reality?

  But how could one expin the term "biohazard"?

  Without wasting another moment, Dublin pressed on. After so many years navigating the complexities of school life, he had faced countless challenges and had seen far worse than what y ahead.