Chapter 64: The Foundation Matters Most, The Principal's New Strategy (Part Two)

The news about the universal four operations test quickly spread throughout the school. Unlike the teachers, who were resistant and displeased, the students found it rather amusing. To them, it was just a fun diversion, a way to relax their minds, akin to playing a game; they didn’t take it seriously.

After all, how difficult could the four basic operations possibly be?

Even in Class 28 of the first year, the atmosphere was much the same. Only one person wore a grave expression.

“Hard. So hard. It’s really difficult…” Shi Tiexin stared at the “Ultimate Practice” in his hands, his face filled with caution. He hadn’t paid attention to what others were saying, nor did he know about the school’s decision to hold a unified test over the weekend. Of course, even if he did know, he’d probably just respond with a casual “oh,” and not care.

His sole concern now was the progress of his cultivation in Basic Mathematics, Level One.

In recent days, progress in other subjects had been smooth. Following Basic Biology, he’d achieved “good” in Basic Chemistry, Level One just last night, and his mastery of Basic Rhetoric had even reached “profound.” Aside from Basic Physics, which he hadn’t tackled yet, and the second level of Mathematical Rhetoric, which he hadn’t started, he should have secured his qualification for the village examination.

Everything was advancing smoothly—except for mathematics, where Shi Tiexin had hit a bottleneck.

After achieving “profound,” pushing further proved far more difficult than before. Within the dissolved memories, Scholar Shi was a science prodigy, especially gifted in mathematics, virtually scoring full marks in every exam since childhood. Even in his “profound” state, Scholar Shi could still help lead the way. Coupled with an excellent supplementary manual that accelerated progress by sixty percent, he should have been making rapid strides.

But in reality, from afternoon till evening, after hours of study, he’d only gained a little over thirty increments. For Shi Tiexin, who’d been making swift progress these past days, this was the first time he encountered such resistance.

The next day, things didn’t improve at all. At around nine in the evening, when the bell rang to signal the end of class, the students from the “trash” class scattered like wild rabbits, scrambling to claim the prime spots at the laundry trough. Shi Tiexin stood up, stretching his back and shoulders; yet the stars that popped up in his visual field were not as dense as before.

All in all, only a dozen stars appeared. Even with four hours of intense effort during his peak in the afternoon, the day’s total was still just a little over thirty stars.

The word board popped up, shaking vigorously as if to encourage Shi Tiexin: “A journey of a hundred miles is only half completed at ninety!”

Shi Tiexin paused, suddenly feeling that even the word board was more cultured than he was, using idioms and sayings so readily! But the phrase was apt. From “unqualified” to “qualified,” then “good,” “excellent,” and “profound,” he’d already traversed over four hundred increments. Yet these last steps were indeed the hardest.

His visual field seemed to understand the difficulty, for now, every star that appeared was golden, each one striking the progress bar with earth-shaking impact. As if to say: the final steps to the summit are more arduous and pivotal than any hundred before.

“You’re Shi Tiexin, right? I need to talk to you!” A delinquent appeared at the doorway of Class 28. He was the boss of Class 31—the worst of the “trash” classes—and once could even compete with Teng Chaoguo.

Lately, the matter of selecting the new “Heavenly King” among the seniors had caused quite a stir. As the leader of the worst class, he felt he needed to make a mark, to prove himself worthy of inheriting the title.

So tonight, he decided to confront the rising star, “Old Iron,” right at his classroom door.

Shi Tiexin strode out, backpack slung over his shoulder, not hearing a word the fellow said, merely giving him a puzzled glance.

Who is this?

Why block the doorway?

Showing up at the door this late… Is he courting? Wanting to deliver a love letter?

“Hey, kid, you—” The fellow reached out to stop Shi Tiexin, but Shi Tiexin brushed his hand aside with a slap: “No time.”

If someone wants help delivering a love letter, find someone else. I need to rush to the study hall and secure a seat—if I’m late, there will be none left. No one should block my way!

The fellow grew angry, but before he could react, his entire vision spun around. With a slap, he found himself plastered against the wall. It didn’t really hurt—he wasn’t injured—but he broke out in a cold sweat.

Strong!

That strength was truly formidable! He’d been caught unprepared, but it seemed Shi Tiexin had merely flicked his hand, yet managed to pin him against the wall. Such force was savage! Watching Shi Tiexin stride away, the fellow’s face was filled with shock, unable to utter a word.

As Shi Tiexin continued training his body and accumulating primal energy, his physique grew more robust, his muscles fuller. Even without the aid of energy, his size and weight alone made him hard to match for an ordinary boy.

A single hand could pin someone to the wall!

Some delinquents who’d stayed behind witnessed the scene from afar, eyes wide with awe, feeling as though they’d witnessed a duel between masters of the underworld. That night, the incident spread among the smokers, exaggerated into legend, marking it as proof that “Old Iron” of Class 28 had begun his push for the “Heavenly King” title.

Look at him—not even making the first move, but waiting for others to challenge him. What’s that called? That’s called authority! The challenger comes, but gets a curt “No time,” and with a flick of the hand, is pinned to the wall. What’s that called? That’s called dominance!

Authority and dominance combined—what greater capital could there be to ascend to the throne of the “Heavenly King”?

Shi Tiexin once again became the top candidate for succession.

Of course, the would-be “Heavenly King” at the center of this storm was now sitting properly in the study hall. With just one thing left, Shi Tiexin decided to raise his Basic Physics to “good” or better tonight. Since he was already “qualified” at Level One, he might even reach “excellent.”

But after carefully reviewing the textbook, Shi Tiexin discovered something interesting: the Basic Physics, Level One cultivation manual was assembled in a rather patchwork way.

In his world, the Level One content for Basic Physics was basic mechanics—fundamental forces and motion, all explained together in the manuals sold at Tumubao. Yet in this world’s textbooks, the material was scattered across different grades of junior and senior high school physics.

He examined it closely and found that the junior high textbook seemed to cover all four levels of Basic Physics, but only superficially. It was more like a story outline or a thesis abstract—just a brief taste. To fully study the Level One manual, he had to comb through both junior and senior high content, piecing it together for a complete read.

No wonder at Fengming First School, all other subjects had reached Level Three, but only physics remained at Level Two; it just so happened that the lesson that day had touched only on Level Two material.