Popular science physics, teach a magic god?

After Ren traveled through time, he always thought that living in the valley would be no fun. Now with the vision of the fire bats, Ren fully enjoys the joy of peeking into the screen.

What kind of otherworldly version of the cantilevered head and conical thorns.

What a rush.

The more powerful noble children can even get hold of magic books written before the end of the Dharma Age and study them all night long.

In Renn's opinion, the most powerful ones are the gossips in the tavern.

The pub that Downs liked to go to has now become the most popular tourist destination in the city.

A small fire bat, like a stone sculpture, was hanging upside down on the roof without making a sound, hiding in the shadow of the beam, quietly watching and listening to people bragging.

"Let me tell you, the scope of the exam is just misleading. No one is prepared at all. What can they learn in just these few days?"

"No, I heard that the nobles have an extra page!"

"Is one more page useful? If Archmage Tesla really values ​​the nobles' children, he would not move the Mage Tower away from the royal capital. Will the Archmage who dares to offend the king care about the face and power of the nobles?"

The words of this local miner spoke directly to Ren's heart. This guy may not understand magic, but he understands human nature.

Someone else pointedly said: "Hey! Who can understand the review standards of a real archmage? Doesn't it cost money to study magic? Maybe he is deliberately raising his own status. Hahaha!"

"Come on, I know your two children are also preparing to take the exam, so don't be so upset."

"Alas! Those aristocratic masters can't occupy all the good positions. At least give us children from poor families a way out..."

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, the trap door of the tavern, which had been broken twice recently, was pushed open.

If ordinary people came in, there is a high probability that no one would take a second look.

But the other party's appearance was incompatible with everyone around him, causing the people at the tables near the door of the tavern to fall into a brief silence.

A half-year-old black-haired boy.

He was wearing a pot head and a pair of old glasses on the bridge of his nose. The lenses might be okay, but the paint-off and scratched frames showed that the glasses had changed owners many times over the years.

In today's society full of muscle tyrants and elder brothers, his height of just over 1.6 meters seems too short. If he didn't have a little beard on his chin, everyone would think of him as a child.

The most striking thing was his robe.

The worn robe obviously didn't fit him well, and it looked like a torn sack on his body.

The key is that someone recognized the emblem on that robe.

The most indispensable thing in the tavern was the melon-eaters, and they immediately started chatting:

"Ah! Does anyone still dare to come to La Manche City wearing the emblem of Faora Sandro?"

"Wait, I know him. He is Faora's anonymous disciple. But I forgot his name." A guy from Lausanne suddenly broke the news.

"Is he seeking revenge from Mr. Tesla?"

"Pfft, his master can't even defeat his disciples, so he's looking for revenge!"

The air seemed to be filled with joy.

In the midst of the crowd's attention, the boy, who seemed not used to people's strange looks, walked towards the bar with his head lowered.

"Boom!"

Even if Faora Sandro is dead, his disciples are obviously not a pleasant presence here. When the boy walked over, a muscular miner deliberately bumped into the boy.

Without any protection from magic spells, the boy was just like an ordinary child. He was knocked half a meter away and sat down on the floor of the tavern.

There was a burst of laughter all around.

"Hahaha!"

"Boy, minors are not welcome here."

"No, it should be said that people from the Sandro Warlock Hall are not welcome."

Facing the tsunami of ridicule, the boy got up and walked to the bar with his head lowered.

"Hello, is there any milk here?"

This timid yet strangely firm voice made the bartender stunned for a moment. He really didn't react.

"Forget it, if not, give me a glass of water, thank you." After that, the young man took out a few copper coins from his bag, placed them neatly on the bar, and let the bartender take them.

The bartender stared at the other party's young but obviously weathered eyes, and the next second, he seemed to hear a vague sigh in his heart. He forced out a professional smile and rolled his eyes at the busybodies next to him, telling them to shut up.

"If you don't cause trouble, we have everything here."

The boy nodded obediently.

He swept across the bar with one hand, took only one copper coin, pushed the remaining coins back, fiddled with it a few times, and took out a large glass of warm milk.

Half of the bar, more than three digits of people, watched with intriguing eyes as they silently watched the young man lift up the wooden goblet originally used to hold low-quality beer, and poured a glass of milk into his thirsty throat that was about to smoke. inside.

"Thank you. If possible, I would like to ask where you can find outlines for the magic exam range. I mean, the real ones."

There have been a lot of bastards these days, selling outlines secretly everywhere. The most disgusting thing is that what these guys sell at high prices is fake.

"Don't ask, the genuine products have been sold out long ago, and Count Lamancho's workshop can't make it at all. Unless there is a connection, all you can find on the market are inferior questions that have been plagiarized in countless ways."

"Is that so..." The young man's eyes dimmed.

The bartender quietly wiped the freshly washed cup brought from the sink next to him and recited the "Law of Conservation of Energy".

"Ah this..." The young man savored the bartender's words carefully. He knew very well that this was definitely not a magical rule that a bartender could make up. On the thin and shriveled face, the eyes in the big sockets burst out with hope.

"I'm giving this law to you, little brother. I'm not lying to you. At least half of the city can memorize this thing. Those who want to sell it for money are just fooling outsiders."

"Thank you, thank you, sir! You are a good man." The young man bowed heavily.

"There is free brown bread pie on Third Street. Although it doesn't taste good, at least it can fill your stomach. If you go there late, it will be gone."

The young man bowed again and rushed out of the tavern without looking back.

Only then did a guest tease the bartender: "Hey, Old John, what makes you so merciful? You just gave away 1 silver coin."

"This kid doesn't have much money. He went to the pub just to get some information. Milk is already the cheapest thing he can imagine." Old John sighed while continuing to wipe the cup: "There are so many in the world. He's a desperate kid. I just don't want to see him in the wasteland on the side of the road next time I go out of town to stock up on goods."

Several well-meaning drinkers also sighed.

In the past few days, more than 5,000 people have poured into this "small town" that originally had only 6,000 people, including nearly 3,000 candidates.

Archmage Tesla only accepts a maximum of three apprentices, which is truly the only one in a thousand.

"Alas! I hope the Archmage can see this scene." Old John sighed.

oh! I saw.

Ren, who witnessed the whole process through the fire bat, suddenly felt melancholy.

Without it, this young man reminded him of a very special term [small town problem writer].