Chapter 71: A Perfect Score? (Part One)

After lunch, Shi Tiexin walked across the playground, a tangle of frustration and discontent brewing within him. The accumulation of primordial vital energy had somewhat revived his spirits, yet his enthusiasm remained low.

Reflecting on the recent mathematics test, Shi Tiexin could not help but feel a surge of emotion. This advanced supplementary manual was of such formidable difficulty—it surpassed even the Extreme Practice and the Little Prodigy collections. Indeed, it was worthy of being called a supreme manual. In less than three hours, it had drained a considerable amount of mental energy from him. He was certain that, as far as the supplementary manual for the first level of Basic Mathematics went, he had reached the absolute limit.

Whether it was the gradient, the volume of problems, or the sheer difficulty, it all felt perfectly attuned to his ability. Especially the last page—the problems there demanded his mind run at full throttle. He felt as if he were dueling the test setter across space, a true meeting of equals, and it set his blood ablaze.

It was an exhilarating release of all his skills, a crisp and refreshing unleashing of his full potential. Two hours and fifty minutes in, Shi Tiexin confidently penned his final answer. He believed every solution was flawless from beginning to end. He had brought this supreme supplementary manual to a perfect close!

His mood was soaring.

But as he set down his pen, he waited. One second, two seconds, a minute, two minutes. Nothing. The thing he so eagerly anticipated still did not appear. Even after such a grueling test, even with this peerless supplementary manual, what he hoped for did not come.

No stars.

Not a single one.

His progress remained at ninety-nine. The final increment, like an unbridgeable chasm, loomed before him.

In an instant, overwhelming disappointment and dejection swept over him. It was as if all his efforts had been for naught, all his perseverance a mirage. The fervor ignited by his contest with the test setter was dashed to pieces upon this immovable wall.

“Hiss… Hoo…”

Shi Tiexin paced the playground, trying to steady his mood. It was a long while before he regained some composure. He made a decision: he would give up on mathematics and begin to delve into other subjects.

There was no need to search for other supplementary manuals. He had to face reality—if even this supreme manual could not push him past the final mark, then further struggle would only be a waste of precious time. After all, it was unlikely he’d find a better supplementary manual than this; and if there were, they would be few and far between.

Since this one could not help him cross the last threshold, there was no point seeking other methods. If time were not pressing, perhaps he might have chipped away at it through dogged persistence. But now, with time running short, he felt a strange premonition that he might not remain here for many more days.

Thus, this invaluable period of cultivation could no longer be squandered on mathematics.

He slapped his cheeks, trying to rouse himself.

From today onward, he would switch to other disciplines. The scope of the Junior Township Exam was limited to the first level of four subjects and the second level of two subjects—nothing beyond that. Therefore, he needed to advance the four subjects as deeply and as quickly as possible, and to push each as far as he could. Even within the same level of mastery, the further one progressed, the stronger one would be.

As for Basic Rhetoric, he would devote himself to advancing as far as possible. Though he did not know whether he could break through the perfect barrier in Basic Rhetoric, he would still strive to approach the limit. If, in the end, perfection eluded him, he would immediately begin cultivating the second level of Basic Mathematics and Basic Rhetoric upon leaving this world.

With the foundation of the first level’s limit, he presumed that progress in the second would not be slow.

It was a pity, though, not to witness a perfect foundation. If he missed this chance, perhaps he would miss it for a lifetime…

With a sigh, Shi Tiexin finally steadied himself and began devoting his energy to the study of Basic Rhetoric. His classmates had gone off to frolic, to play, or had headed home. Even at the prestigious Fengming First Academy, boys of this age could not entirely suppress their restless hearts.

Balance was essential; the vast majority of youths could not endure unceasing hard work.

But Shi Tiexin—how could he rest?

The campus was utterly deserted.

Shi Tiexin picked up a few books and wandered the school grounds, enveloped in solitude and loneliness. He gazed about and suddenly spotted a promising place. He made his way to the playground, looked up at the eastern reviewing stand, and ascended it in a few strides.

Standing at the very front of the platform, he gazed out over Fengming First Academy. It was not the highest point in the school—in fact, it was barely above the second floor, not quite reaching the third. There were higher places elsewhere. But for some reason, standing here and looking down at the field, he felt an unrestrained, commanding sense of ease, as if he overlooked the world.

At that moment, Shi Tiexin suddenly lost interest in memorizing phonetics or studying pronunciations. He glanced at the books in his hands and set aside the basic phonetic cards. Glancing through the pile, he found a volume titled “Selections from Miscellaneous Ancient Texts.” Ignoring its attributes or contents, he randomly opened to a page and began to read aloud.

“A gentleman, though he may have troops, takes courage as his foundation; though there may be ritual in mourning, grief is the essence; though a scholar may have learning, conduct is fundamental.”

Shi Tiexin’s voice was naturally sonorous; with the support of primordial vital energy, his vocal cords were resistant to fatigue, allowing him to read aloud ceaselessly. The spacious, domed reviewing stand amplified his voice.

In the empty campus, every line he read echoed back to him, reverberating in waves—layer upon layer, like mountains, dense and continuous as the tide.

At first, Shi Tiexin read mindlessly, but as he continued, he found the passage wonderfully crafted. He could not articulate precisely what made it so; with his level of rhetorical study, he could not explain what the text truly meant.

Yet, inexplicably, the more he read, the more he felt its power. It was as though a steadfast and unyielding conviction emanated from the words, reaching across time and space to resonate with his own nature.

“Words of slander must not enter the ear; words of contention must not leave the mouth; the thought of harming the innocent must not dwell in the heart—thus, even if there are those who slander, they will find no hold.”

At this passage, Shi Tiexin suddenly fell silent. He was not distracted; on the contrary, he was deeply contemplative, involuntarily beginning to grasp the meaning of the text. He felt as though, beyond his cultivation of the heart, he was learning something new—something intangible, formless, not taught in the Orphanage or the Star Worker’s School, and seemingly with little effect on his personal cultivation.

Yet, Shi Tiexin felt that something within him had been filled.

After a brief pause, he resumed reading aloud, growing ever more excited, ever more absorbed, his voice rising with each line, until it became thunderous and soul-stirring.

“Without strong will, wisdom cannot reach; without sincerity in words, actions cannot bear fruit!”

With a rustle, the scrolls of poetry scattered, and he abruptly ceased.

Shi Tiexin, his spirits renewed, set forth once more.