Chapter 108: Reviving [Physics]

“Cough, cough! Watch your words and actions! Watch your words and actions!” Raine gave a tactical cough and glanced at the system.
Thankfully, at least for now, the system still classified him under the [Lawful Neutral] alignment.

Raine was fairly satisfied with this.

Generally speaking, after players transmigrate, most of them act on whims. If they end up in the Chaos world, they become typical [Chaotic] clowns.

They do whatever they want, completely unrestrained, even shouting randomly, “Mundo goes where he pleases!”

Sounds cool, doesn’t it?
But therein lies the problem.

In Raine’s opinion, the [Chaotic] alignment is the least promising.

Think about it—if you’re someone who does as you please, your subordinates can’t possibly be [Lawful], right?

This results in you and your underlings all being free-spirited troublemakers. To put it bluntly, even something as simple as taking out the trash could lead to it being tossed somewhere random.

If an entire organization operates like this, could it even be combat-effective?
[True Neutral] isn’t much better—it’s all about indifference and staying detached.

In peaceful times, you can play the aloof, superior role, but when chaos arises, both [Chaotic] and [Neutral] are the alignments that perish first.

Take the eternal Blood War between abyssal demons and hellish devils, for example.

Demons always have overwhelming numbers and individual combat strength, yet they’ve never truly broken through the devils’ defenses. Why? Because demons are entirely [Chaotic]. A typical assault might see half the troops running wild halfway through, leading to a significant drop in combat effectiveness.

Thus, Raine maintained his [Lawful] persona.

Being [Lawful] can be either difficult or simple. The classic method is to follow the rules you set for yourself. Rules can be changed, but only through proper procedures or during gaps in enforcement.

In simpler terms: the promises you make, you must see through, no matter what.

With this in mind, Raine broadcasted to the heavens: “Apologies, the earlier remark was something a former friend of mine once said. It does not reflect my stance.”

Ding!
[The world’s doubts about your alignment have been alleviated. Chaos level reset to 0.]

“…”

Raine felt a moment of dizziness. Perhaps he had introduced too many physics formulas, turning some into universally acknowledged laws, and it almost felt like the world’s will was prioritizing monitoring him above all else.
“This… must be my imagination, right?”

The world quieted down, seemingly confirming that Raine’s suspicion was indeed a misconception.

Still, Raine was undeniably bored recently.

His two disciples were stuck repeatedly studying basic physics laws, causing a halt in the teaching progress. Raine could only shamelessly hand them more [Five Years of Exams, Three Years of Mock Tests]. The valley didn’t require his farming efforts, and Saunders managed all external affairs.

Raine suddenly realized he had nothing to do. And now, with his notorious reputation, no foolhardy troublemakers dared approach him.

It was like when he was in college, and a classmate rented an apartment. The classmate asked the landlord, “Are there any shady-looking thugs around here?” The landlord replied, “Isn’t that you?”

Raine mused for a moment—it seemed like the most outrageous person around was himself.

A bold idea surfaced in his mind.

What if…

He went out for a stroll beyond the valley?

After staying put for so long, Raine felt like he was about to lose his mind. Sure, he could spy on what was happening in Ramanquet City or the Cervantes royal capital, but who would willingly stay home for six months straight unless they were natural-born streamers or complete shut-ins?

After setting up a [Physical Net] with magic in the valley and using [Real Illusion] to create a decoy of himself, the real Raine waited for a dark and moonless night, then secretly summoned a flying eyeball to carry him out.

That’s right!

Flying eyeballs can indeed fly. As long as there’s some residual eyelid tissue on them, he could attach a hook to lift himself up with ease.

Flying eyeballs move at about 30 kilometers per hour. After a crafty engineering type like Raine rigged it with a full bungee-style safety harness and a grass-padded seat, it effectively became a magical transport aircraft.

In the past, Raine would never have dared to attempt such a stunt.

But now, with the Fulong Mountain Range proving to be less dangerous than its reputation suggested, this was actually quite safe.

True to his cautious nature, Raine made the eyeball hover just five meters above the ground. Coupled with his magic, he was pretty much impossible to kill in a fall.

Thus, without incident and while successfully hiding it from his two disciples, Raine spent less than half a day reaching Ramanquet City.

Of course, the usual route would take much longer—but Raine flew in a straight line.

After landing in a secluded spot on the outskirts of the city, Raine dismounted the eyeball and found a place to change his appearance. With a bit of magic, he transformed himself into a candidate for the next magical exam in Ramanquet City.

Though it was late December and well into winter, the city was unexpectedly lively.

An [Otherworldly Exam Economy] had sprung up in this remote mining town, becoming its second-largest economic driver.

Using illusion magic, Raine subtly altered his facial features, turning himself into Gilgamesh, the arrogant golden-haired king from an anime he remembered from his previous life.

Yes, an obnoxious golden-haired character.

Initially, he thought about experiencing the hardships of an exam candidate. On second thought, he decided against it.

Having already endured the torment of both middle and high school entrance exams—and now subjecting his two disciples to the same—there was no need to put himself through it again.

After all, any accidental blunder might lead to some absurd headline like “Raine comes in second place at the Raine-Tesla Grandmaster Lookalike Contest.”

That said, he still wanted to study the local exam culture firsthand, so he ducked into what was clearly a newly opened bookstore.

“Hey! Brand-new [Five Years of Exams, Three Years of Mock Tests] for physics, featuring 50 pages of fresh questions, only 1 silver coin!”

He happened to come across some practice questions and casually picked up a copy.

Honestly, the booklet, made of coarse hemp paper, wasn’t great in quality. But for the price, you couldn’t complain. Flipping through it, Raine was surprised to find that the world didn’t lack interest in physics—it just lacked a systematic approach to organizing and teaching the knowledge.

The questions Raine had left for the Earl of Ramanquet had apparently inspired someone to create a new set of problems by altering the numbers while retaining the essence of the questions.

Perhaps these people lacked the qualifications to become mages, but they were undoubtedly serious about learning physics.

When Raine noticed that one of the practice booklets was authored by a lecturer from Cervantes Royal Engineering Academy, he felt a fleeting sense of accomplishment, as though he was single-handedly revitalizing [physics].

Does engineering need physics?

Absolutely!

Take catapults, a staple weapon in every country—what part of their design doesn’t require physics?

The only issue was that no one had previously taken the time to systematically summarize and teach this knowledge.

This realization left Raine a bit thrilled.

Just then, a timid voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Excuse me, Grandmaster Tesla, can you make golems?”