My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chapter 210 Found

fear?

No.

In the eyes of true academic giants, absolute talent is never a monster.

That was a miracle, a rare treasure that appears only once in a century on this barren academic ground, the only hope that would make a lonely climber like him burn his last breath to pass on his mantle.

Pierre did not answer who he was looking for, nor did he introduce himself.

He strode over the large, long reading table and walked to Chen Zhuo's side.

He didn't look at Chen Zhuo's face; his deep blue eyes were fixed on the table.

He saw the large sheet of draft paper, the huge question mark in the center, the several lines of discarded derivations roughly crossed out next to the question mark, and the yellowed French original "Foundations of Algebraic Geometry" lying open next to it.

As a master who had spent half his life sitting atop the mountain of mathematics, Pierre didn't need to understand what Chen Zhuo had just muttered in Chinese about how to get over this broken wall.

With just one glance at these three items, he instantly understood the deadly predicament the boy before him was facing.

Pierre took half a step forward and stood to Chen Zhuo's side and slightly behind.

He extended his finger and, quite naturally and without any preamble, tapped it next to the question mark on the draft paper.

"The homological algebra you used at this singularity is wrong."

Pierre spoke, in English with a lingering French accent, his pace steady, yet carrying an unquestionable air of absolute authority.

Chen Zhuo was taken aback.

He turned his head and looked at the foreign old man who had suddenly approached him.

Pierre didn't look at him. He moved his fingers off the draft paper and tapped twice on the cover of the thick book "Foundations of Algebraic Geometry" next to him.

It made a banging sound.

"This book is too old."

Pierre's voice echoed in the quiet reading room.

"The classical tools described in it are simply not enough to cover the high-dimensional topological boundary you just cut. If you force it to converge, your equations will not close; they will just shatter into a pile of garbage."

Chen Zhuo's eyes widened slightly.

He wasn't angry at the old stranger's offense; on the contrary, his attention was instantly drawn to the key words in the other man's words.

It can't be contained.

It was smashed into pieces.

This was the very problem that had been troubling him all afternoon, the one he couldn't figure out no matter what! He made that cut based on his intuition, only to find that the thread he used to stitch up the wound was made of rotten wood that would break at the slightest touch.

Before Chen Zhuo could react, Pierre moved.

The old man's movements were exceptionally swift, even with a predatory force. He reached out and snatched the pen from between Chen Zhuo's slightly loosened fingers.

Pierre bent down slightly, pressing the edge of the draft paper with his left hand.

He didn't write any explanatory text or basic calculation steps directly below the question mark.

He wrote down a long, extremely complex formula for high-dimensional algebraic geometric mappings.

Pierre saw it all at a glance: this boy didn't need any gradual guidance; all he lacked was that top-level building block in the modern mathematical system.

If you give him that bottom bridge, he can build the spaceship himself.

After writing this line, Pierre stopped writing and straightened up.

Chen Zhuo's gaze was fixed on the formula that had just been written, the ink not even completely dry yet.

one second.

two seconds.

The confusion and agitation in Chen Zhuo's eyes vanished without a trace, like morning mist instantly dispersed by a gust of wind.

Instead, there was a kind of brightness that sent chills down your spine.

He understood.

This short formula is like a searchlight suddenly shining at the end of a dark tunnel, illuminating all the complicated dead ends ahead.

It turns out that modern mathematics has developed this dimension. It turns out that the singularity does not need to be forcibly wrapped, but can be directly mapped to another homology group to resolve it!

Chen Zhuo's breathing began to quicken.

He didn't care who was standing next to him at all.

Foreign old man, politeness—all of that was thrown to the back of my mind at that moment.

His inherent passion for mathematical truth was completely ignited by this brand-new weapon.

Chen Zhuo suddenly reached out and snatched the pen back from Pierre's hand.

The movements were rough, decisive, and efficient.

Pierre's free hand froze in mid-air, but he wasn't angry; instead, his eyes shone even brighter.

Chen Zhuo leaned back onto the table, his wrist rapidly twisting.

Following the high-dimensional perspective given by Pierre, the pen tip moved almost frantically across the paper.

Instead of simply building the bridge step by step, he used the new bridge beam to kick open the second and third walls behind it.

Lines of sharp, savage, yet logically rigorous deductions cascade down the page like a waterfall.

He used an even more unreasonable method to forcibly stitch together the fault lines that were on the verge of collapse.

Pierre stood beside him, his eyes fixed on the paper.

His chest began to rise and fall noticeably.

He had only provided a standard advanced tool, but he never expected that the boy would not only understand it instantly upon receiving it, but also immediately digest and reorganize it completely, and even use it to carve out a barbaric new path that even Pierre himself needed to pause and think before he could keep up with.

"No, the boundary here shouldn't be locked like this..."

"7

Pierre suddenly whispered something in English.

Without any further politeness, he bent down, reached out and grabbed Chen Zhuo's wrist, forcefully taking the pen from him.

Chen Zhuo was interrupted. He looked up at him but didn't say anything. He just stared at his movements.

Pierre drew a line through the middle of the derivation that Chen Zhuo had just written, thus removing a redundant constraint.

Then, in the blank space next to it, an even more minimalist and cold absolute boundary was added.

"Use this," Pierre said.

Chen Zhuo glanced at the newly added border, his eyes shining even brighter.

"So that's how you can suppress it..."

""

He unceremoniously snatched the pen from Pierre's hand again.

Following that new boundary that had been squeezed to its limit, Chen Zhuo began to close the net.

An extremely eerie atmosphere settled in a corner of the old library.

One old and one young.

An elderly foreign man with white hair, and a young Chinese boy.

They didn't say a word.

There was no small talk, no self-introduction, not even eye contact.

All their attention and all their communication were focused on that thin sheet of draft paper.

The pen was constantly being exchanged between the two.

Or rather, it was robbery.

Pierre wrote down a constraint, and Chen Zhuo snatched the pen, instantly breaking through the constraint and providing a reverse derivation. Pierre looked at the derivation, breathless, and snatched the pen back again, adding a bottom-level support. Chen Zhuo once again took back the pen and launched an attack towards the final closed loop.

Su Wei, sitting opposite, had completely stopped reading.

The red pen she was holding had somehow fallen onto the table.

She stared in disbelief at the scene before her.

She couldn't understand the technical terms the old foreign man had just used, let alone the symbols on the draft paper that looked like gibberish.

From her perspective, the scene was utterly absurd.

An elderly foreign man and a thirteen-year-old boy, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, were fighting over a pen for a dollar on the reading table like two crazy kids fighting over a toy.

Moreover, the expressions on their faces were increasingly fervent.

The draft paper was being pushed around by them, and the edges were already wrinkled from being pinched.

The pen tip rubbed rapidly across the paper, and because of the excessive force, it even left deep scratches on the back of the paper.

The monotonous and rapid friction sound became the only symphony in this quiet reading room.

A dozen minutes later.

Chen Zhuo's wrist jerked heavily.

He drew a solid black square in the bottom right corner of the paper.

Then, next to the cube, with great force, he drew a clear equal sign, followed by a zero.

It's over.

The continuous topological space that was crudely cut apart by discrete matrices, after the addition of high-dimensional mappings from modern algebraic geometry, forms a perfect, closed, and seamless infinite loop.

Chen Zhuo released his grip, and the pen fell onto the table, rolling twice.

He exhaled a long breath that he had been holding for a long time, and leaned heavily against the back of the chair as if all his strength had been drained.

"It's connected..."

""

Chen Zhuo looked at the dense formulas that filled an entire page and a satisfied smile appeared on his lips.

Pierre did not sit down.

He stood there, his hands on the edge of the table, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on the solid square and the equal sign on the paper.

His chest heaved violently as he gasped for breath.

His hands were trembling slightly.

This wasn't due to old age, but simply a surge of adrenaline.

pass.

Not only was it open, but it was also more beautiful and more savage than he had imagined.

The boy in front of us, after obtaining that key block, not only built the roof, but also nailed the entire skeleton of the palace shut.

Pierre slowly straightened up.

He turned his head and looked at Chen Zhuo, who was leaning back in his chair, rubbing his wrists.

At this moment, in the eyes of this 65-year-old man, this ordinary-looking boy with soft hair was no longer a student.

This is a miracle.

A living, breathing young Gauss, uncorrupted by any rigid academic rules, possessing terrifying intuition and an extraordinary learning ability.

This was an irresistible gift that God bestowed upon him as his life drew to a close.

"What's your name?"

Pierre finally spoke again, his voice a little hoarse, but his tone more serious than ever before.

Chen Zhuo lowered his hand and looked at the old man who had helped him so much.

"ZhuoChen".

""

Chen Zhuo answered in English.

Pierre nodded, silently repeating the pronunciation in his mind, and sure enough.

"My name is Pierre."

He did not include the tenured professorship at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, nor the Fields Medal winner.

Compared to this young man, and to that exhilarating deduction he had just performed, all those titles seemed far too frivolous.

Pierre pulled out a chair next to him and sat down beside Chen Zhuo.

He pointed to the draft paper on the table.

"You have genius-level intuition, which is excellent, but what you're holding in your hands is all outdated stuff."

Pierre looked into Chen Zhuo's eyes.

"The books and textbooks here are at least twenty years behind the mainstream mathematics community. Has no one told you how far modern mathematics has progressed?"

Chen Zhuo shrugged, his tone relaxed.

"I'll just take a look myself."

Pierre frowned.

Just browsing?

Such terrifying talent, yet it was just thrown into a dusty old library, relying on a few decades-old tattered French books to figure it out on its own?

What is Li Jianming, who is listed as the corresponding author, doing?

Is this a waste of resources?