I loaded the Mysticism panel.

A new notice has appeared on the department's bulletin board.

The corners of the notice still had glue stuck to them, indicating that it had just been posted recently.

Richard stopped in front of the notice.

Special Notice Regarding the Arrangements for This Year's Debate Week

In light of the current situation, and after joint consultation among all departments and with the approval of the Academic Committee, the following adjustments will be made to this year's Debate Week:

I. The scope of participation has been expanded.

In addition to undergraduate and graduate students, outstanding preparatory students will be exceptionally admitted.

Second, the questions will take into account both classical traditions and the current situation…

There were some details later, which Richard quickly memorized after glancing at them.

In previous years, the debate week was only open to undergraduates and graduate students; preparatory students had to wait in line even to sit in.

The higher-ups said they wanted to identify promising candidates with the talent to speak in advance.

To boost morale on the front lines and to give the newspapers some space.

The clash of ideas among young people in the highest institutions of learning before the war is something worth writing about in detail.

During wartime, the previously distinct levels of preparatory, undergraduate, and graduate education were gradually smoothed out by the war.

In the windowless room of the editing team, the three groups of people had already been gathered together to work.

After the afternoon inscription class ended, Pendleton came to find him.

"Williams," Pendleton strode over, "Did you see the notice for Debate Week?"

"I've seen it."

"This year, we made an exception and admitted pre-university students, and you are one of them."

Richard wasn't too surprised.

He ranked second in the training program, and the editing team was considered a key member, so it was only natural that the spot would go to him.

Pendleton glanced around and saw that there was no one around at either end of the corridor, then lowered his voice.

"Let me explain the rules of debate week to you."

"Those public screenings had members of the public in attendance, and the newspapers reported on them."

"Debate Week is also a stage for scholars to 'declare'."

His aunt had also told him that academic advancement required a "declaration."

"The leap in rank, especially the oath to become a minor proficient, is often rehearsed and prepared within these seven days."

Pendleton explained:

"You're mainly going there this year to gain experience, but several graduate students are paving the way for their 'first oath'."

He then added:

"In previous years, the debate week featured purely classical topics, but this year's topics will incorporate war."

The newspapers need to both inspire and showcase the true abilities of scholars, including their analysis and judgment.

Richard probably understood that newspapers wanted to report those passionate remarks, while the judges wanted to see your real skills.

The two are not contradictory; in fact, if you want to achieve a good ranking, you need to consider both.

"Alright, I've said everything I needed to say." Pendleton patted him on the shoulder. "Get ready."

The countdown to the seed germination is ticking away day by day, and Richard has been living a very busy life these past few days.

First and foremost is academics.

Now I occasionally take advanced Ancient Greek courses, focusing on the grammatical distinctions of Attica prose.

The coursework in the preparatory course for the Classics Department was already overwhelming.

Latin, Ancient Greek, epigraphy, textual criticism... one assignment after another piled up like a mountain.

His aunt would often give him special tutoring.

Beneath Isabella's cold exterior, she truly cared for her nephew.

They used his manuscript as a case study in the discussion, and every now and then they would call him to room 314 and hand him a stack of practice questions that were beyond the syllabus.

"You have a good foundation, so you should study even more."

Richard took the stack of questions, knowing that this was another of his aunt's preferences.

Then there's the editing team.

That day, Associate Professor Greer sent over another list of requirements.

"We urgently need a batch of 'anchor' type seals on the eastern front."

"Anchor?" Richard took it.

"Trench warfare".

"The two sides are locked in a standoff along a single line, neither able to budge the other."

As time went on, the dead bodies at the bottom of the trenches became a significant feature.

Both the visible and hidden sections need to be anchored back together; the old method of construction is too slow, and the front lines can't wait.

Another thing is that he needs to find time to practice his own techniques.

Stone armor, moon nails, silence—these were supposed to be his daily routine, without fail.

To master a technique, one must practice it day after day.

But he simply doesn't have that hand available right now.

My studies are piling up, and the editing team also has a ton of tasks.

Fortunately, there's a shadow now.

Shadow's training efficiency has now been further enhanced by the breathing technique.

She practiced his techniques behind the curtain, and the skill she developed gradually seeped into his body.

He was busy with his studies and editing chores during the day, and at night he would mend his shadow.

The progress of the three techniques slowly increased even when he was almost completely distracted.

The night before, he threw his shadow into the shallows to practice his moon-nailing technique, then fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The next morning, he took out his silver needles and practiced needlework as usual.

Ether enters from the end of the needle and condenses into a "nail" along the central axis towards the tip of the needle.

The nail was made in one go, and it was evenly distributed compared to yesterday.

………………

The day before the start of the debate week, his aunt casually told him another piece of news in room 314.

"Only one of my graduate students got accepted into the debate program this year."

Which one?

Clara.

Richard was not surprised.

My aunt has four promising young women working under her, but when it comes to who is the best, everyone would put Clara at the top.

On the opening day of Debate Week, Ashford’s carriage left through the main gate and headed west along the north bank of the canal.

A thin mist floated on the river, and the sound of factory horns could be heard in the distance through the mist.

Richard sat in the car, holding the pass in his hand.

The driver stopped on the path south of the Petrie Building.

"Young master, we can't go any further."

Richard stuck half his head out of the car window.

A large crowd had gathered under the plane trees lining both sides of the road.

Reporters from newspapers, dressed in black woolen suits, academic robes, and carrying wooden camera cases...

There were also quite a few young men and women in casual clothes, probably there to cheer on their school's athletes.

"I can walk there myself." Richard got out of the car and put the pass into his inner breast pocket.

Richard walked along the sycamore-lined path.

The debate week was held in the Iliad Building, the oldest lecture hall at Teito University.

Six Doric columns topped a beam inscribed with Latin:

"tantum eruditi sunt liberi (Only the educated can be free.)"

Richard stood at the bottom of the steps and looked up.

On either side of the main entrance to the lecture hall, the flags of various higher education institutions are displayed.

The flag of Imperial Capital University, with its gold background and purple stripes, hangs in the center.

To the left and right are the Royal College, Trinity College, the College of Economics and Political Science... lined up one after another, swaying gently in the wind.

The last few flags have thinner flagpoles and simpler flag surfaces.

Those were several local universities; to be able to hang a flag here was already an immense honor.

Richard climbed the steps and handed the pass to the ceremonial officer wearing white gloves at the entrance.

"Mr. Williams." The man took the ID and looked at the markings on it.

"Yes."

"You're in the pre-university group." The concierge checked the roster in his hand: "Your seat is in the third row on the west side."

Thank you.

Richard stepped into the lecture hall.

The interior of the Iliad is even more magnificent than it appears from the outside.

The dome is incredibly high, and the central debate platform is a circular stage in the style of ancient Greece.

Two wooden lecterns were placed on the platform, facing each other on either side.

On the ground on either side of the lectern, there was an extremely thin silver line.

Richard silently activated his hidden spiritual vision and discovered that the silver thread was the carrier of the visible aspect.

Every word spoken by the two debaters on stage reached not only the ears of the audience.

The liquid also seeped into the curtain through the unfolding channel, which was what the judges were truly focused on.

The seats in the lecture hall were laid out in circles around the debate stage and back.

The concentration of ether on the judges' panel was alarmingly high.

The old man in the center sat upright, and the ether above his head was so thick that it almost solidified.

Richard didn't dare look any longer, and with just one glance, he withdrew his inspiration.

That person is a master, while the others around him are only minor experts.

The seats on the outer ring were distributed to the support groups from various universities.

The outermost circle is reserved for newspaper reporters and the general public.

In the drawing room, the preparatory group contestants arrived one after another.

Richard stood in a corner and slowly scanned the room of people.

The largest number of students came from Imperial University; Montagu, Fisher, and Catherine were all there.

There were fewer than ten students from other schools, creating a clear distinction from those from Imperial University.

A separate table was set up at the far end of the side hall for drawing lots.

There weren't many graduate students, but each one of them was significantly better than the preparatory students and undergraduates.

Clara stood among the group of graduate students, speaking the least and appearing the quietest.

Richard walked up to the third row and sat down in his seat.

The empty seat next to it belonged to Montagu.

"You're here quite early."

The blond youth greeted him.

"Do you recognize the one in the middle?" Richard chimed in, "He's got an alarmingly thick skin."

Montagu glanced up and looked towards the judges' table.

"Sir Müller, a lifetime fellow of the Royal Society and an honorary professor at Imperial University, is a great expert."

"There are eight judges at this table, all of whom are experts," Montagu continued.

"The only one with a Grand Mastery is Sir John Mueller, who is the Chief Judge of this year's Debate Week."

"Sir Muller, that name sounds familiar," Richard thought back.

"You should have read his books."

Montagu glanced at him.

"On the Weight of Judgments"

Richard suddenly remembered.

"On the Weight of Judgments" is a must-read for scholars.

That was a pragmatic reference book.

Each page is like a gleaming knife, digging deep into the essence of the idea that "words create reality."

He glanced at the two empty chairs in the center of the Montagu debate stage.

"It's about to start."

Richard followed his gaze.

The moderator walked out from the south side of the debate stage.

The moment that middle-aged scholar stood on the stage, the etheric field in the lecture hall changed; he was quite the expert.

As soon as he stood still, the circle of silver lines that had been laid on the ground lit up.

"Gentlemen."

The middle-aged scholar spoke in a loud voice.

"This year's Debate Week opens today."

"According to the charter set by the Classical Society and the affiliated institutions, this competition will last for seven days."

"Divided into three age groups: preparatory, undergraduate, and postgraduate."

"In each group, the three age groups are equally divided by lottery."

Foundation students may be matched with undergraduate students, but not with graduate students.

"Each group will be eliminated separately, and the winners will advance to the finals."

"The top three will be selected and awarded the title of 'spokesperson,' who will be able to represent the academic community at the Imperial Academic Conference."

The lecture hall was quiet; everyone was listening.

"The topic of the debate is determined by drawing lots, and the affirmative and negative sides are determined after the draw."

"Six minutes for the opening statement, eight minutes for cross-examination, ten minutes for free rebuttal, and three minutes for the closing statement."

"The scoring is based on two axes: the axis of words, and the axis of...declaration."

When the middle-aged scholar mentioned "declaration," several newspaper reporters in the audience exchanged glances.

They didn't understand what it meant, but they felt that the word carried immense weight.

"Now, please welcome Sir John Müller, the Chief Judge, to deliver the opening address."