I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 252 Return to Gan (monthly ticket plus 31 updates)

For the next two days, the dormitory building remained brightly lit.

The majority of the thirty or so people in the special class are working hard.

Someone in the cafeteria would push their plate aside while eating and pull out a few pieces of paper from their pocket to look through them;

Some students stopped going out during breaks and instead stayed at their desks eating their own food.

There are a few exceptions, and Phillips is one of them.

Richard passed by his dorm room on Thursday night; the door was ajar.

He pushed the door open and found Phillips leaning against the pillows, reading a newly acquired book.

The document was placed at the foot of the bed, with an empty teapot on top of it.

"...Did you do it or not?" Richard couldn't help but ask.

"I've flipped through it." Phillips continued reading the book in his hands. "I've flipped through it seriously."

"Turning it over and doing it are not the same thing."

"I know."

Phillips closed the book and looked at Richard.

"I've thought about everything you've mentioned."

"These old guys went to such great lengths to create a set of questions for everyone; they must have been doing this out of boredom."

"They're seeing who can make up for their weaknesses on their own, and who just skims through the problem and then throws it aside."

"Then why haven't you done it yet since you've figured it out?" Richard raised an eyebrow.

"Because I really don't want to do it."

Phillips placed the storybook next to his pillow.

"Let me finish." He gestured towards Richard.

"I'm not bad at textual criticism, and my rhetoric is passable, but I'm only average in other subjects."

"I did the questions they gave me very carefully, and I was able to get about 60 or 70% right."

"As for the remaining 30%, I know where I'm lacking, and I'm fully aware of it."

"But what good will it do me?"

Phillips glanced at the ceiling.

"It's done. I've definitely made up for some of my weaknesses."

But will that extra bit be enough to upgrade me from 'above average' to 'excellent'?

"That shouldn't be enough."

"That's it." He put his hand on his forehead.

Richard, I am not you.

You want to be the best at everything, and you don't want to leave any gaps.

You are Aeneas rowing in the storm; you have the skill and the drive.

"No, all I want in my life is to become a lecturer and peacefully read the books I want to read."

"You really think this is enough?"

"Are you asking me if this is what I want to do for the rest of my life?" Phillips chuckled.

"Richard, do you know why Ovid's *The Metamorphosis* is so good?"

Richard looked at him.

"Because everyone inside is changing."

Phillips was very serious when he said that.

"Some become laurel trees, some become stones, and some become constellations."

"Transformation is not the end point; transformation is a way of life."

"The laurel tree has no need to envy the constellations, nor does the stone have any need to envy the river."

"They are each their own."

He lay back on the bed and reopened that book he was reading.

"I know I'll never reach the highest level in my life, but at least I'm living a comfortable life."

I appreciate your concern, but you can't help me with this.

Richard stood at the door, looking at the guy.

"...Then at least do the proofreading and collation work."

Phillips paused for a moment as he turned the pages of the book.

"Alright then," he said slowly. "I'll do the proofreading of those two sections; let me think about the others."

Richard knew that "thinking about it again" was tantamount to "not doing it," but he couldn't say anything more.

He closed the door and went out.

In the corridor, the lights in the girls' dormitory across the way were still on.

He caught a glimpse of the shadow cast.

Edith was asleep on the table, next to a thick stack of documents.

This girl was even more hardworking than Richard; I reckon she didn't get a full night's sleep even once during the entire summer training program.

Richard returned to his dorm room, turned on the light, and continued studying the four documents his aunt had given him.

He had already finished the first three; the last four were the main event.

He worked until 2 a.m., when he was completely unable to dismantle it anymore.

He had all the comparison tables, data, and documents in his hand...

I pulled up and compared every page of relevant content stored in 【博闻】.

It's still a long way off.

What he lacks is a "feel" and "intuition" for language that he hasn't yet developed.

This kind of intuition cannot be acquired through reading.

It takes time; it requires immersing oneself in a field for several years or even more than a decade.

They've gotten so used to the rules that they used to have to look them up in tables, that they can now recite them off the top of their heads.

My aunt herself has been immersed in that field for over a decade.

She had that intuition, but Richard didn't.

So she set this question here, to let Richard know how far he was from that step.

Richard put down his pen.

When the seven portions are combined and averaged out, the total is between 65% and 70%.

This is the result of his best efforts.

………………

On Friday, Croft went into the classroom.

There was no box for collecting homework on the podium, nor was there a red pen for grading.

Croft brought out a stack of new brown paper envelopes.

"Standard answer." He placed the stack on the edge of the table.

"One per person, your name is on it, come and get it yourself."

"Go back and compare it with the one you made yourself."

He took out a piece of chalk from his notebook and wrote the title of today's lecture on the blackboard.

"I won't accept it, nor will I approve it. You can keep that in mind."

Then the lecture began, as if nothing had happened.

Richard took the envelope with his name on it back to his seat.

He planned to go back to his dorm and take a closer look.

He glanced at the back of the classroom.

Edith was pressing her standard answer sheet under her textbook, her gaze heavy.

Phillips wasn't there; he probably stayed up late watching TV.

Halfway through the large lecture, the classroom door was pushed open a crack from the outside.

Phillips slipped in with a teapot and found an empty seat in the last row.

………………

Afternoon classes ended early.

Richard packed his bag and was about to leave the classroom when Pendleton turned the corner from the other end of the corridor.

"Williams," Pendleton waved to him.

"Associate Professor Croft requests your presence in his office. Remember to bring that supplementary document."

Richard followed, carrying his schoolbag, until they reached the door of the small house at the end of the corridor.

Pendleton knocked three times.

"Come in," Croft's voice came from inside.

Richard pushed open the door and went in.

There are already people inside.

Croft sat behind the desk, with his tin can and several enamel cups in front of him.

Edith Carter was sitting on the other side of the table.

The girl was quiet, her hands folded on her knees, her back straight.

She saw Richard come in and nodded slightly.

Richard nodded to her and sat down in the empty chair next to her.

Croft was about to get up to boil water when there was another knock on the door.

"Enter."

The door opened, and Isabella walked in front.

A person was following behind her; it was the associate professor from the engineering school.

Richard remembered that his surname was Greer, and he had a thick beard that was trimmed like a bush, and his shoulders were so broad that they almost filled the door frame.

Associate Professor Greer took up almost half of the room as soon as he entered.

He greeted Croft gruffly.

"Old Ke, your room is way too small."

He draped his coat over the back of the chair: "It's hard enough to just turn around."

"Sit down." Croft pulled two folding chairs out from behind the bookshelf. "Don't mind."

Isabella sat down in the chair by the window, her gaze sweeping over Richard and Edith, without saying a word.

Greer unfolded the folding chair, sat down with a creak, and the chair groaned in pain.

"This chair joined the company at the same time as you, right?" Greer patted the chair's surface. "It's probably older than me."

"Two years older than you."

Croft shook tea leaves from the tin can into a glass of water.

"I won't drink your tea." Greer waved his hand as soon as he saw the tin can. "I had a cup last time, and it was so bitter that it took me a week to recover."

"If you don't like it, it's because you have no taste." Croft handed the cups to the two students.

Edith accepted it with both hands and thanked her.

Richard also took a sip, then frowned; it was indeed so bitter it could make one question the meaning of life.

Isabella took a thermos from her handbag.

Unscrew the lid, and a faint sweet aroma wafts out of the cup; it's probably honey grapefruit tea.

"You're not going to drink my tea either?" Croft glanced at her.

"Your tea matches your personality; it's so bitter that people keep their distance."

Isabella took a sip of her grapefruit tea, and her brow relaxed.

Croft snorted.

"Alright." Croft picked up his cup and glanced at the two students.

"I didn't call you two here today for a casual chat."

Croft turned his gaze to Edith.

"Carter."

The girl sat up a little straighter.

"exist."

"How many sets of materials have you completed?"

"I did them all," Edith said softly. "But two of them weren't done well."

"Let us see it."

Next is the time for individual tutoring for the two of them.

After he had almost finished speaking, Croft spoke up.

"You two are in similar situations."

"What needed to be done has been done, and the areas that couldn't be done have been marked."

"But we're not just here to talk about how well you've done."

He glanced at Greer.

Greer cleared his throat.

"You've all heard about industrial accidents and emerging vulnerabilities in my classes these past few days."

Edith and Richard both nodded.

"Those are just the surface-level tasks; today I'll tell you something deeper."

"About fighting." Greer crossed his two thick arms over his chest.

"It's been mentioned in the newspapers every day for the past two months."

"Most of you who are in school think that fighting is the job of hunters and soldiers, and has little to do with scholars."

Edith didn't speak, and neither did Richard.

"But what you don't know is that," Greer's voice trailed off.

"The war hasn't even started yet, but the scholars are already busy."

"What are you busy with?" Richard asked.

"Seal it." Greer held up a thick finger.

"Once a full-scale war breaks out in the Old World, the death rate will increase dramatically in a short period of time."

"What does the increase mean? The weak points are deteriorating rapidly, and the original seal maintenance cycle is completely invalidated."

"Some seals used to only need to be reinforced once a year, but during wartime, they may need to be reinforced twice every six months."

"But there are only so many scholars and hermits in the entire empire who can maintain the seal."

Croft took over.

"Greer is talking about the big picture."

"Specifically, it's about the two of you."

He tapped the table with his fingertip.

"Once the war breaks out, all university preparatory and undergraduate programs will have to be downsized."

Funds and personnel will be allocated to the front lines, and the number of positions available for academic research within academia will be reduced to a minimum.

"Whether to keep someone or not depends on your performance."

Isabella added a sentence.

"Those who stayed behind did not simply continue their studies."

Those who remain will have to study while also working for the academic system.

"Many of these things used to be done by associate professors and lecturers."

"It might not be enough in the future; we need to get undergraduates and graduate students to step up."

Richard listened silently.

Greer continued.

"The supplementary materials that were sent out a couple of days ago weren't just sent out randomly."

"The direction of each question is designed to simulate the type of task you might take on in the future."

"Alright." Croft picked up his glass.

"The training program is about to end with an assessment. You'll have to figure out what to do next."

Greer was the first to stand up.

The bearded man picked up his coat.

"Old Ke, next time you brew tea, use half the amount of tea leaves less, maybe I can drink it."

"If you want something light, go to a teahouse outside," Croft waved his hand.

"There's only one concentration in this room."

Greer chuckled, nodded to the two students, and strode out.

As soon as he left, the room felt twice as spacious.

Isabella also stood up, screwed on the thermos, and pushed the door open to leave.

Edith was the last to stand up, gave Croft a slight bow, and then turned and left.

Only Richard and Croft remained in the room.

Croft poured himself another cup of bitter tea.

"Sit down, finish your drink before you leave."

Richard sat down again.

The two faced each other, neither of them speaking first.

The old sycamore trees outside the window rustled in the twilight.

Croft took a sip of tea.

"I'm going to tell you something so you don't think I'm deliberately targeting you."

Richard raised his eyes.

"My family runs a small grocery store in a small town in the north; we can barely be considered small business owners."

Croft spoke slowly.

"My family supported me through university thanks to my father's life savings."

"The year I took the entrance exam for Beijing University, the little capital I had in the shop was basically gone."

Richard listened without saying a word.

"I had a lot of trouble reading that part."

Croft smiled:

"My father wanted me to study law, which he thought was the most promising major."

But later, it was discovered that I had a loophole, so I changed my mind and transferred to the Classics Department.

"My father didn't speak to me for three whole years because of this."

Richard glanced at him.

"During my graduate studies, I had two advisors."

Croft continued.

"The first one was an old scholar who taught history. I followed him until I graduated with my doctorate."

The second person was a minor expert in inscription studies. At that time, I had already passed the threshold for becoming a practitioner, and I followed him to take it a step further.

"I spent seven years standing at the threshold of minor proficiency."

"Seven years?"

"Seven years." Croft took another sip of the bitter tea.

"The first oath-taking ceremony failed, but it was successful on the second attempt."

Richard looked at the other person's gray hair.

The first oath failed, and as my aunt later told me, a part of my soul would be wasted in the signed artifact.

That was an absolute devastation.

"According to the rules, I shouldn't be able to get up there."

Croft adjusted his teacup: "After the first failure, I couldn't even get out of bed for two whole years."

"My mentor covered for me."

"What kind of method?" Richard asked quickly, thinking of his mother's condition.

"He used his own spare capacity to fill in a section of my half-crippled signature from that time."

"So that I can stand on it a second time."

"...What about that tutor?"

"He's passed away," Croft said calmly.

"He signed off on the remaining debt for me that time, and I never recovered it after that, not even until the year I was promoted to associate professor."

A few footsteps echoed from the corridor outside the classroom, then faded into the distance.

Richard held the cup of bitter tea he hadn't finished drinking, remaining silent.

"I don't have many people supporting me."

Croft stared at Richard.

"After my mentor passed away, I managed on my own and eventually became an associate professor in the Department of Classics."

The doors above that are always closed to me.

"Folklore is the lowest of the low in academia."

He glanced at the sycamore trees outside the window.

"I teach folklore because they won't let me teach other subjects."

Upon hearing this, Richard understood why the other party had taught all the classes in the first week.

"I've been teaching for over a decade," Croft shook his head.

"I lead training courses every year, and I lead preparatory courses every year."

He has had many students, and about half of them were scions of prominent families who were recommended to the school.

"I have no interest in those young masters and ladies."

He took a sip of tea.

"Because they'll have someone to bail them out, whether things turn out well or badly in the future."

"They are good at studying, and someone paves the way for them."

Even if they don't do well in their studies, there are still people paving the way for them.

"But I see some people who are working very hard and have potential..." Croft stared at him, "I will try my best to help them."

That's why I only started to nitpick during the first week, and also called Edith and me over for extra help.

"Williams," Croft said, setting down his teacup.

"I've seen your abilities and hard work these past few days."

You truly deserve your position, and you have lived up to the expectations of those who have always supported you.

Keep striving forward, because your starting point might be my ceiling.

Richard nodded and finished the remaining bitter tea in his cup.

It was indeed tough.

Beneath the bitterness, a subtle sweet aftertaste rises to the surface.