The last lesson of this morning was a history lesson, again of this kind that was almost useless to Duchamp. Duchamp sat upright, his expression focused, as if he was roaming in the long river of history. In fact, he was working on a long article, which Professor Ashley had asked him to write a report on the latest plans for the development of the conductive network that he had learned in Chase, after listening to his report on his experience of going to Chase, and submit it to the attention of the higher authorities so that the laboratory could start the research on the conductive network.

What Duchamp is now seriously pondering is how far this report should be written, so that there is room for implementation in the Empire.

The Reich is not as naïve as Dr. Russell, and although Professor Ashley is already a madman of science in the Reich, according to Duchamp's observations, he does not possess the kind of sincerity for science, which is sometimes quite realistic. Moreover, the Empire's use of research funds has always been unsightly, and it is only willing to invest in projects that can achieve immediate results, as well as arms competitions, such as tactical power guides and airship cannons.

"Maybe it's more reliable to build a small experimental network in Lulei now, and when the technology of the experimental network matures, it will be promoted to the imperial capital and other big cities. As for the fact that every remote village like the one in later generations has a base station, it is estimated that with the level of economic development of the Semriya continent, it will be thirty or fifty years later. Duchamp calculated in his mind.

Thinking of a more reliable way to cut in, he gradually conceived the outline of his report, began to wave the pen quickly, and in a short time, he wrote thousands of words.

Someone knocked on his desk. Duchamp came to his senses and saw that Tolly, the history teacher, had stopped teaching, and at some point had come to the back row, staring at him with interest.

"What is this?" Professor Tolly held out a finger and pointed to the stack of paper.

"Uh," Duchamp's brain spun rapidly, and if this was Professor Ashley's request for homework, it would certainly encroach on the majesty of a history teacher.

He quickly came up with a reason, "This is the professional application that needs to be submitted to apply to join the student guidance enthusiast club." He looked at the angry look of the history teacher, and hurriedly added in a low voice: "I have carefully prepared your lesson for today's lesson last night. ”

"Oh," the professor asked nonchalantly, "then, could you please talk about what you have said today, and what led to the victory of Dreiquels the Great in the Battle of the Lion?" ”

Duchamp's mind spun quickly: "The Lion Campaign took place, ostensibly as a result of civil strife and calamity, which led to the rise of national disasters, but in fact, the princes, who were busy fighting for hegemony at that time, were completely unaware that in the era after the invasion of the Great Cold Snap, the people's desire for peace and a better life was far above all else. Although the princes are stronger, their battles are meaningless infighting for the people.

The rise of the Seventeen Horsemen on the plateau to victory was ostensibly due to his loyal followers and the help of the Iron Horsemen, but this external force could also be seen as part of the will of the people. Only the army that occupies the Daimyo of Yoshiri can achieve the final victory.

This situation can be compared with the Hundred Days War a few years ago in the Empire. The journey of being famous and the journey of being a teacher is completely different. Complying with the will of the people and going against the will of the people yields completely different results. ”

The 58 eyes in front of the classroom looked back in unison, shocked by this earth-shattering answer.

The history teacher was even more shocked by the second half, and after a long time, he said gently: "Even if you have previewed, you can't do anything else in class." ”

At the end of class at noon, Duchamp was in a hurry to follow the trend of grabbing food, and quickly flowed to the cafeteria, and several aristocratic boys rushed forward and blocked him in the classroom aisle.

"Can you not be so arrogant!" Eric Evans, the leader, said sharply, "It's unbearable, what about your good memory, you must be polite enough to treat teachers and classmates, and you must be self-disciplined in class." Every day, I either sleep, or hide there and don't know what to do, fold paper airplanes in class, play with pencils, and embarrass all the teachers. The opportunity to enter this class is so rare, why don't you cherish it, are you looking for trouble? ”

Duchamp listened to the class leader's question in embarrassment, and the classmates next to him, looking at his face, seemed to express the same dissatisfaction as the class leader, not to mention that Eric Evans was a good student second only to Duchamp in his studies, excellent in all aspects, and had a high prestige among students.

Looking around, he reluctantly came to a conclusion: "I'm isolated." "It's not what he came to school for.

Duchamp's embarrassing position, first of all, was caused by this white school uniform, and the title he mixed up belonged to an empty title without a fief, and in the eyes of the real nobles, it was no different from the identity of a servant, so he faced a double embarrassment, and the aristocratic students and commoner students did not want to deal with him, and together with a few people in the dormitory, it seemed that they did not reach a good social relationship.

Thinking back to what good things Duchamp has done since the beginning of school, the new students are late for registration, and then they slept in class, giving people the feeling that no one is in their eyes. On the only day off of the week, he had to run back to the city to listen to Emma's report on the work of the firm. It comes and goes in such a hurry, and it feels extremely out of place.

Of course, there is also Duchamp's reason, and the inner thought is: "Anyway, it's just a group of NPCs without avatars, and there is no plot to develop." So he even saved the time of attacking this group of classmates, and now he can call out no more than ten people in the class.

Duchamp inwardly reflected on himself and found that he was indeed a little different.

Although there are no pig's feet and only public faces in this group of people, this interpersonal environment still needs to be saved, Duchamp reflected silently.

Duchamp is often busy paying attention to system information, or thinking about things that others can't think of, and in the eyes of others, there are often signs of being in a daze.

Now, under the eyes of a group of classmates and the interrogation of the class leader, Duchamp tilted his head to himself again. This posture of no one in his eyes immediately annoyed the onlookers, a classmate named Qiao from the Southern Lake District, couldn't help but stand up, raised his fist, and slammed at Duchamp's biased cheeks.

In the eyes of a group of classmates, in the belated and poignant "stop" of the class leader, an old fist hit Duchamp's right jaw fiercely, and then everyone heard a loud "bang", as loud as thunder.

"Broken!" This thought arose in the hearts of many students.

Duchamp adjusted from the daze mode, turned his head, and asked blankly: "I was distracted just now, I seem to have heard something, by the way, what did you say, squad leader, can you repeat it again?" ”

Eric looked carefully at Duchamp's face and could not see a trace of being attacked. He didn't notice at all that Joe, who had just thrown his fist, was now clenching his right hand with tears in his eyes, and the nerves on the right half of his face were twitching.

Sample, the attack power is less than 3000, and I want to break the master's shield. Duchamp triumphant. He had now cultivated to the level of One Kick Martial Realm, and his body's reaction speed was faster than his brain. When the uneven fist flew in, he reacted, summoned the shield, and even took the initiative to aim his face at the fist in order to pretend to be 13.

As soon as he turned around, he simply sold the back of his head to Joe, and said to the squad leader sincerely: "Squad leader, I have a problem, I love to wander since I was a child, and I often do this in class, I have caused trouble to everyone, please bear with me." ”

A group of stunned classmates felt that Qiao must have stopped his hand on Duchamp's cheek just now, and when they saw Duchamp apologize, they walked away.

Dietrie, who was in the same dormitory as Duchamp, came up to observe Duchamp's face carefully, and even reached out to touch it to study whether the material was different from ordinary people. Duchamp glared: "What are you doing, glass slag!" Before he could finish speaking, Learmu also leaned over and stared at the right half of Duchamp's face with wide eyes. Duchamp couldn't hold it anymore and rushed towards the cafeteria with a big grin.

In the cafeteria, Duchamp fed his meal and found a corner to sit down.

By the way, this cafeteria is also a slot, and the meal cards of noble students and commoner students are used separately in the canteens on both sides. Duchamp once went there to investigate, and the conclusion was that the food in this canteen and another canteen were fried in the same kitchen, the only difference was that it was more expensive, of course, the dining environment here was slightly better.

As soon as he sat down, Fang leaned over and asked mysteriously, "Just now, how did you do it?" ”

Duchamp obviously pretended to be stupid: "Shenma just now." ”

"As long as you are not deaf, you can hear a sound that looks like hitting an iron plate." It was Dietrie who answered.

"Oh, that's it." Duchamp laughed dryly, and saw that Leermu also came over, and felt a great sense of accomplishment. On weekdays, these guys with eyes above the top have never eaten at the same table with him.

He lowered his voice and said mysteriously, "It's actually a trick."

"What's the trick?" The three of them asked together.

Duchamp laughed dryly twice and said: "Back then, my father won the title of Lord Guardian by killing wolves, which was the lowest rank among the nobles, and in the eyes of other nobles, he was no different from a servant. If you want to mix in this circle, you must be able to put down your body and practice a good face, so my father created a kind of martial arts, which can run all the skills on the face, and named it Thick Skin Shengong. I have been practicing this way in the aristocratic circle since I was a child, and after practicing for seventeen years, I finally achieved great skill in thick skin, and ordinary swords could not be cut at all, let alone hit with fists. ”

Learmour jumped up, pointed at Duchamp and said in surprise: "You, you, it's really strange that there is such a miracle in this world." ”

Dietrie noticed another detail: "Who told you that the status of the guardian lord is no different from that of a servant, nonsense!" In the Dominion, the Guardian is the commander of the army after the lord, and the martial arts of the Venerable Father must be extraordinary. ”

Fang couldn't help laughing, patted Duchamp on the shoulder and said, "You are really a wonderful person, I have already asked someone to send a big sword, there is a kind, when the time comes, you stand still, let me cut at this half of your face a few times, to see if you are really thick-skinned and superb." ”