Chapter 174: Chapter 169: A Troll is a Magical Creature
"Zog is a bastard!"
A student in the cafeteria slammed his fist on the table in anger.
The Magic Vision Report only said there would be a replay in about half an hour, but it didn’t list a specific start time.
To avoid missing the replay, everyone in the cafeteria was glued to the Magic Vision Device, eagerly waiting for the opening sequence with Zog’s two roars to appear again.
But who could have guessed that Zog had filled that entire "about half an hour" with commercials?
Toys, drinks, snacks, games, clothes, Magical Devices—dozens of ads, one after another, with no repeats.
Slipping commercials in between segments of the main show was understandable. It was all about making money, after all.
But a seven-minute show with several times that length in ads? This wasn’t a show with commercials; this was commercials with a show slipped in.
"No decent person would do this!" As soon as someone said it, everyone else chimed in with agreement.
However, this level of verbal attack had zero effect on Zog.
First off, in his past life, he was a game planner. He was cursed out daily, had to lurk in player communities to monitor public opinion, and sometimes, when he got worked up, he’d even join the players in cursing out the planners.
A little criticism was nothing to him.
Second, he actually wasn’t human anymore.
Finally, after 34 minutes and 25 seconds—which could, generously, be rounded down to "about half an hour"—the replay began.
Xiaomo hadn’t expected to break so many of his habits today. Not only did he eat with other people, but he also lingered in the cafeteria for so long.
He still had his task of developing an intelligent Inscription prediction model for the Zog Group.
This was a major project, and his collaborators were all top-tier Mages renowned across the Continent.
’Alright, I’ve decided. I’ll leave after this replay. I absolutely can’t watch the next one at midnight. If my sleep schedule gets messed up, it’ll affect my studies and work.’
On the second viewing, there wasn’t the same frequent, explosive laughter as when they first saw the gags, but everyone was still completely engrossed.
With less time spent laughing, they naturally paid more attention to the details in the animation.
And that’s when they were surprised to discover that the artwork was also shockingly detailed.
Tom and Jerry wasn’t just for a quick laugh; it could practically be called a work of art.
"Is... is this made of individual paintings?" someone asked, uncertain.
"I think so. The word ’animation’ itself means a series of drawings."
"No way. The workload to draw all that would be massive. It must be an Illusion Technique. Isn’t the Zog Group the best at using Illusion Techniques?"
As everyone was seriously discussing how such an exquisite animation could have been made, a discordant voice suddenly cut in.
"You’ve got to be kidding me. Am I the only one who thinks this story about a stupid cat and a dumb mouse is boring? I heard you all laughing like hyenas from outside and thought it was something good. How childish."
Everyone turned to look. It was a young noble with a terrible reputation at the academy—the type that both people and dogs seemed to despise.
His only hobby was flaunting his meager sense of superiority everywhere he went, ruining everyone else’s fun in the process.
There was never a shortage of people like him, though most of them hid behind the anonymity of the internet, deliberately saying offensive things just to feel important.
But to do it so brazenly in real life was somewhat rare.
"I think it’s very interesting," Xiaomo retorted.
For him, arguing with someone was another huge step out of his comfort zone. He only did it because he genuinely loved this cartoon and wanted to defend it.
"The art is beautiful, the music is great, and the plot is full of imagination..."
Xiaomo did his best to list the merits he saw in Tom and Jerry, trying to prove his point to the young noble.
But he clearly didn’t understand that arguing with this type of person was pointless. They never intended to reach a conclusion about whether it was good or bad.
They just wanted to stir up trouble—chaotic evil in the truest sense.
"Get some taste. It’s just a cartoon. What’s so great about it? Does it have any depth?" the young noble said, showing his true contrarian nature.
"Why does it have to have depth? Isn’t a work that brings people joy a good work?!"
"Look, you’re getting triggered," he said, the classic deflecting response of a troll.
His older brother, Big Morris, had his younger brother sit down. He then stood up and walked over to the arrogant noble.
In terms of physique, he could have stuffed the noble in his pocket. In terms of magical skill, he was a top-eight finalist in the academy’s practical magic tournament.
His only disadvantage was his father’s low status.
This was also the other party’s most prominent advantage, which was why the young noble remained so brazen.
He never provoked anyone with a higher title than his own, and people with higher titles wouldn’t be caught dead in the cafeteria anyway.
That’s why he dared to stir up animosity so recklessly. He loved it when people were annoyed with him but couldn’t do anything about it.
"Only a simple-minded person like you would get this angry over a cartoon. It’s killing me. Goodbye, I have a high-class late-night ball to attend."
The young noble left smugly. He’d take out all the grievances he’d suffered in high society on this bunch of commoners.
He left the cafeteria and got into his carriage. The academy didn’t allow servants, but it did allow vehicles. His was a carriage pulled by a Golem, one that moved on command.
Sitting in the carriage, he thought about it and still felt unsatisfied.
He opened his microblog, and Tom and Jerry was number one on the trending list. The related topic threads were filled with all sorts of praise.
He knew it was his time to shine.
"That mouse is so adorable."
"Have you ever seen a real mouse? Making a mouse look cute... the creators must be perverts."
"Does anyone know who composed the music for this? I’d love to get an original soundtrack album."
"Call me ’Master’ and I’ll send you a ticket to a real concert. Then you can hear what real music sounds like."
"The production team is made up of Painters from our very own Twin Tower City! They’re our pride and joy!"
"Hilarious. Everyone watching is probably from Sutton, right? Do you think any foreigners care? You’re all just patting yourselves on the back in your own little bubble and think it’s some great achievement."
...
His fingers flew across the projected keyboard, rapidly churning out one infuriating comment after another.
Notifications popped up one after another—all angry replies from the people he’d trolled. The more furious they got, the happier he became.
There was no better entertainment than this. Playing games was nothing compared to playing with people’s emotions.
Just then, the carriage suddenly stopped.
’What’s going on? Did the Golem malfunction?’
He stuck his head out to check, only to see several figures in hoods in the darkness of the night.
"Who are you—"
Before he could finish his sentence, someone yanked him out.
"This is the academy grounds! You can’t do this!" Seeing them getting ready to hit him, he covered his face and immediately yelled.
"Wait!" one of the hooded figures suddenly said.
"That’s right, wait," the young noble said, thinking there was a chance to de-escalate. "If you leave now, I can pretend this never happened and won’t hold you responsible."
"I think just beating him up is uncreative," the same person continued. "How about this... let’s pay homage to Tom and Jerry."
’What does that mean?’
’What does he mean, "pay homage to Tom and Jerry"?’
Before the young noble could react, he was lifted into the air. The figures grabbed his arms and legs, spread-eagled, and began to spin him around as if looking for a target.
A moment later, they stopped, aimed directly at a thick, sturdy tree.
"That’s the one."
"Three, two, one!"
When the countdown finished, they carried the young noble and charged, accelerating toward the tree trunk.
"AAAAH!" The young noble let out a bloodcurdling scream, as if he had just lost something very important.
