I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 248 Sorting Mechanism (Bonus Chapter 29 for Monthly Tickets)

After Richard left, the door to No. 17 Flower Moon Street closed automatically.

He walked out along the bluestone slabs, and the sounds of people on the main street became clearer and clearer in his ears.

Ashford's carriage stopped at the corner of Flower Moon Street.

The coachman was curled up on the shaft of the cart, dozing off.

Hearing footsteps, he snapped awake, jumped out of the car, and opened the door.

"Young Master, shall we return to the manor?"

Richard nodded and got into the car.

As the carriage started moving, he leaned against the side of the carriage and replayed Mrs. Mary's words in his mind.

The microcirculation is very stable; I can consider directly authoring the name after the summer training program…

This statement is very valuable.

After all, it came from the mouth of a highly skilled spiritual medium.

But signing one's name is no small matter.

Richard dared not make a hasty decision and needed to discuss it further.

After returning to the mansion, it was already past lunchtime.

Richard casually ate two sandwiches and went into his study.

Gerald was sitting in front of the fireplace reading the newspaper.

Without looking up, he asked, "Is the matter on Flower Moon Street settled?"

"Yes."

Richard sat down opposite him: "Grandfather, there's something I'd like to tell you in person."

Gerald: "Speak."

"I would like to sign my name in advance."

Gerald closed the newspaper and glanced at his grandson twice.

After a period of quiet in the room.

He slowly began to speak: "No need to rush to give reasons, stand up and walk a few steps so I can see."

Richard did as instructed and walked to the center of the study.

Gerrard extended his right hand, his five fingers loosely clenched.

An extremely restrained etheric field emanated from him, enveloping Richard alone.

The entire process takes no more than two seconds.

Richard recalled that this was the same method used when they first met last year.

His Sun Constellation trembled slightly.

Gerald withdrew his hand: "Not bad, you passed."

He sat back in his armchair, picked up his tea and took a sip: "Signing really only boils down to two things."

The wondrous object recognizes its master, and the curtain knows you.

The physical aspect doesn't actually need to be endured for that long; the main purpose is to ensure sufficient reserves.

Otherwise, if the signature gets scattered during the process, and the mark is only half-engraved, the person will be ruined.

Richard listened intently, not daring to miss a single word.

Gerrard continued, "Your foundation is far beyond the norm; you've already achieved ample leeway."

Richard breathed a sigh of relief: "Then I..."

"But don't get too excited yet."

Gerrard then changed the subject: "I can make the decisions regarding the microcirculation aspect, but you're going down the academic path."

He got up and paced to the telephone in the study:

"Scholars' decisions must be made by scholars."

He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

It was lunchtime, so it took quite a while before Isabella's impatient voice came through the phone.

Gerrard explained things concisely.

Isabella answered more decisively over the receiver:

"Have him come to my dorm."

…………

The faculty and staff dormitory of the Department of Classics at Teito University is hidden behind the Petrie Building, nestled among old plane trees.

Richard found his aunt's room by the house number and knocked on the door.

The door opened quickly.

Isabella was wearing a nightgown and clutching half a pencil in her hand.

"Come in, don't just stand there like an idiot."

She stepped aside to make way.

Richard went inside and glanced around the room.

This room doesn't look like the residence of a single woman at all.

It's one thing that the women's rooms lacked the exquisite furnishings of those other women's homes.

There weren't even flowers or a dressing table.

Only along the wall, there was a row of bookshelves.

The spines of the books faced outwards, packed full.

At the very top of the bookshelf, there's a layer of supplementary materials stacked all the way to the ceiling.

In the corner, there were some wooden crates used for Tianye's investigation.

The seals on the box were still intact, and the collection location and date were written on the box in charcoal.

A large writing desk took up half the room.

On the table were rubbings, comparison tables, half-written manuscript paper, and a coffee pot.

It's fair to say that if it weren't for the few dresses in the wardrobe, you wouldn't guess that this was a woman's room.

"Sit down."

Isabella changed into formal attire: "This is just where I sleep and work."

Richard sat down on the hardwood stool in front of the writing desk, his gaze falling on the bottom shelf of the bookshelf.

That compartment was blocked by several thick, frightening books on inscription, and behind the partition, half of the corner of a tin box was visible.

You can see a gold-painted iris flower printed on the box lid.

It is the trademark of a long-established pastry shop in Beijing.

The exposed candy wrapper was bulging, clearly deliberately covered by a book to hide it.

Richard's lips curled up slightly.

Isabella noticed his gaze and looked in that direction, her face immediately becoming somewhat uncomfortable.

She casually walked over and pulled the few books of inscription literature out, completely blocking the tin box and candy.

"Let's look at your lamp first."

Isabella cleared her throat and got to the point: "Did you bring the Signed Wonder?"

Richard took the Sphinx lamp out of his bag.

Isabella took out a brass instrument.

The knobs and markings on it are densely packed.

"Give me your hand," she said.

Richard did as instructed.

Isabella placed the brass instrument on Richard's pulse point; a thin needle inside vibrated gently twice before stopping.

She stared at the scale for a while, her eyebrows slightly raised.

"That's right, the foundation for the cycle is indeed sufficient."

"In my presence, I will warm your lamp once more."

Richard placed the bronze lamp in the center of the table, and ether flowed down the inside of his right arm to his palm, into the lamp.

Isabella examined the bronze lamp closely.

As Richard pushed his ether into his palm, the copper lamp reacted.

The lamp body changed from cold to warm, and within that warmth was a hint of urgency, as it actively drew energy towards Richard's palm.

Isabella: "As expected..."

Richard withdrew his hand: "What's wrong, Auntie?"

"It's nothing."

Isabella sat on the edge of the table and poured herself half a cup of tea: "You can sign your name earlier; there's already enough."

but."

Richard was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when this sentence brought him back to his senses.

Isabella: "Academic authorship requires empirical evidence. Your manuscript needs to pass an academic review platform and be approved by at least two relevant scholars."

Richard's tone held a hint of dissatisfaction: "The review platform?"

Isabella nodded: "After you submit your empirical report, someone will review it."

Richard frowned: "Isn't the attribution a matter between me and the Curtain? The Curtain only needs to acknowledge me, why do we need other people's approval?"

Isabella looked at Richard: "What you said is exactly the same as what I said back then."

The signature is indeed a matter between you and the veil; what it perceives is the trace left by that "deciphering" on the ethereal level.

This step cannot be faked, and it doesn't require anyone's stamp.

But from the moment you are branded, you are no longer alone.

If your interpretation is wrong, plagiarized, or doesn't stand up to scrutiny... the curtain will still accept it.

However, if you try to climb any higher, tradition won't accept you.

Her tone turned serious: "Vincent and the others signed their names, and the evidence is that they cleanly and efficiently eliminated an evil entity."

The truth will be revealed on the spot; whether the evil entity is dead or alive can be seen at a glance.

Isabella then changed the subject: "But scholars are different. Your empirical evidence is 'judgment,' and it takes time to see whether a judgment is right or wrong."

Therefore, the first interpretation you submit must have two people willing to write their names next to your judgment.

By writing their names down, they signify their approval of you and their willingness to share responsibility if anything goes wrong in the future.

After listening, Richard fell into thought.

The hunter entrusted his life to the training camp and his back to his comrades.

The scholar, on the other hand, handed over his first judgment to two seniors who were willing to vouch for him.

"I'm not worried about that; it's just a matter of how long it will take."

Isabella took out the manuscript Richard had given her last time and pointed to a passage:

"Your argument focuses on the 'annual decay rate of the curtain,' which is the most crucial point right now, and you also have Whitcom's first-hand data to back it up."

Those who made the comments will probably hold a grudge against you.

Before the afternoon make-up class, Isabella picked up the department office's hotline, connected with Mr. Hutton, and told him about the situation.

Mr. Hutton's voice, crackling with electricity, came through the receiver:

"In that case, I agree to bring it forward."

If war breaks out in the Old World, practitioners must at least have the most basic means of self-protection.

They can use the industry's credit system to get into more shady places and take on legitimate jobs.

Richard stood by and listened.

"The time needs to be set."

Isabella steered the conversation back on track: "The first three weeks of the training program consisted of lectures and assessments. I submitted his empirical report to the review platform a few days ago."

The results should be available in less than two weeks.

Mr. Hutton calculated the time: "In that case, the last two weeks are for practice, right?"

Isabella replied, "That's right. Once the review is passed, it will be perfect to sign the papers just before the actual implementation begins."

Mr. Hutton: "Then it's settled."

The call was then disconnected.

The room fell silent.

The leaves of the sycamore trees rustled softly in the evening breeze.

Isabella glanced at Richard and asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Richard said carefully, "I was thinking... before, you all told me to slow down, but today, you're all urging me to hurry up."

"Slow is the way to do things in peacetime."

My aunt's expression changed slightly: "In peacetime, a slower pace means you can live a longer period of time."

But things are not peaceful right now.

As soon as she finished speaking, she handed the manuscript on the table to Richard: "Go ahead and copy the original."

…………

The training report was submitted on Friday.

Beijing University is on summer vacation, and the huge campus is deserted.

The row of Greek-style columns in the Classics Department stood empty.

Richard walked across the stone slabs under the corridor, each step amplified by the empty corridor, stretching far into the distance.

The registration area is in the lobby upon entering.

A long table sat across the center of the hall, with two registration books of different colors on it.

The one on the left has a dark red hard cover with the words "Recommended Student" written in gold lettering.

The other book had a gray-blue cover and read "Scholarship Student".

Behind each register sat a registrar.

Richard stood in a corner of the hall and quietly activated [Concealed Vision].

Using the flowing ether in the hall, let the threads of inspiration drift along the crowd.

There were quite a few people registering today.

There are about one hundred in total.

Most of them were top students from elite schools, and their speech and attire were impeccable.

But Richard was surprised to find...

After he swept his hands over, he found that less than half of the more than one hundred people had the Etheric Circuit.

The rest of the people were no different from ordinary people.

They can read and memorize, and they can even stand out in the exam hall, but they have nothing to do with the world behind the curtain.

Richard understood.

It seems that what appears to be an academic selection process is actually a process of labeling people.

The moment you hand over the materials, they've already been filed.

The scions of prominent families placed their materials into the red register for "recommended students".

Immediately, a waiter came forward and led them to a cushioned waiting area on the side of the hall.

The hardworking students lined up in front of the "scholarship student" registration book, and after registering, they could only go to the corridor.

I sat on the hard, dry bench, waiting for my fate.

Richard scanned the room and found the girl named Edith Carter.

She is talking to the registrar.

She answered each question posed by the registrar.

His voice was low, but his spine was straight.

After she finished the formalities, she was seated at the very end of a hard, dry bench in the corridor.

Other students who studied hard also had friends with whom they could exchange a few words.

But she sat at the very back, and no one spoke to her.

And she doesn't force herself to get close to others.

Richard walked to the long table and stood in front of the register of recommended students.

After presenting the letter of recommendation and having it verified, I went to the registration desk.

Pendleton sat down at the registration desk.

The chores manager was dressed in a suit today, with his buttons fastened all the way up.

He took everyone's information, looked through it, and then handed it to the person next to him for a look.

The person I passed by was wearing a drab gray suit.

He remained expressionless and did not say a word.

He wore a tiny badge on his chest.

Richard recognized the badge; it was the symbol of the Interior Ministry.

The line moved forward.

It was finally Richard's turn.

After he handed over the documents, Pendleton flipped through them page by page.

He stopped when he saw the letter tucked inside.

The letter was sealed with wax, and Professor Mortimer's personal seal was also stamped on the cover.

Pendleton pulled out the letter and handed it to the Home Office representative beside him.

The people behind the registration desk also saw this scene and paused for half a second in unison.

…………

The class assignments were scheduled for the day after registration.

This is an "academic ability test".

But the testing method was very strange.

The location was an empty classroom, with several silver plaques embedded in the walls.

Richard couldn't understand the inscriptions, so he followed the other students in.

Two elderly examiners were sitting in the classroom.

They would have students place their hands on a copper coin and then ask them to recite a passage of Latin.

Whether you recite it haltingly or fluently, it doesn't matter.

The examiners will not give any evaluation; they will simply make a note of it on the roster.

When it was Richard's turn, he activated [Concealed Vision] beforehand.

It became clear immediately.

That copper coin was used to test the loop.

As soon as you press your hand on it, the inscribed text will provide corresponding feedback, whether there is an etheric circuit or not.

Memorizing Latin was just a pretense.

The purpose was to keep it a secret so that the children in the regular classes wouldn't notice anything.

The class assignments were released the day after the test.

The students were divided into two classes.

Regular classes and special classes.

Richard was placed in the "special class".

Compared to the special classes, the list of students in the regular classes is much longer.

After years of hard work, the students, who mistakenly believed they had finally squeezed into the top universities in the capital, all excitedly crowded in front of the notice board.

They instinctively breathed a sigh of relief after finding their names.

But in an instant, some doubts arose.

Why did I break up with some people?

The reason... wasn't written on the notice.

They didn't know, but Richard did.

When the class schedule was handed out, Pendleton confided in him privately.

"The basic academic courses are the same for both regular classes and special classes."

However, the special classes have additional "bonus projects."

Richard asked what the "additional feature" was, and Pendleton did not answer him immediately, but simply told him.

You'll find out in a few days.

Then he added, "The highest a scholar in a regular class can ever reach in their lifetime is lecturer."

but.

Scholars in special classes can get close to associate professors.

The things professors do are things that students in regular classes can't see.

Richard understood.

Students who have studied diligently in regular classes for many years are blocked from the outside by an invisible wall.

They believed that once they entered the Imperial University, their future was bright and their prospects were limitless.

But little did they know that a ceiling had already been installed above their heads.

This ceiling is impossible to break through no matter how hard you try.

When Richard came out of the classroom, he encountered the first student who was blocked outside by the wall.

The boy stood in front of the notice board, looking at the class assignment list over and over again.

He kept confirming that he had indeed been assigned to the regular class category.

But why?

His eyes were full of confusion.

He didn't even know why he was eliminated.