I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The results of the first round were announced during the lunch break.

The notice board was posted on the stone wall of the side aisle of the chapel, and the crowd was so dense that it was impossible to move.

Richard didn't join the crowd; it was Mr. Holland who squeezed in, looked at the results, and reported the rankings back.

When the bald middle-aged man emerged from the crowd, his shirt collar was askew.

"fourth."

He straightened his collar as he spoke, his tone a mixture of relief and a hint of resentment.

"The top three are Montagu, Catherine, and Phillips."

As Richard anticipated, there was indeed a gap compared to those who had received elite one-on-one education from a young age.

The accuracy of pronunciation, the experience in handling rhythm, the overall maturity of the typhoon... each aspect was lacking.

"But," Mr. Holland suddenly smiled, "you got the highest score in rhetorical comprehension."

He took a piece of paper out of his pocket:

"Of the six judges, four gave full marks and two gave nine marks."

"The only one in the entire audience whose understanding of rhetoric far surpassed everyone else's."

He waved the paper in front of Richard, his tone brimming with undisguised smugness:

"Montaguna's average is 8.5, Catherine's is 8.3, and yours is 9.7."

Ms. Grant walked over from the side:

"This means the judges believe that your understanding of Cicero surpasses that of the other contestants."

"Indeed." Mr. Holland folded the paper and put it back in his pocket. "He didn't just memorize it; he completely understood it."

Ms. Grant looked at Richard: "How's the preparation for the afternoon's open lecture going?"

"I'm still thinking about it."

"Once you've thought it through, that's fine."

"But to be honest, you handled those six nihil progressions very well just now."

"I've been teaching students for over a decade, and this is the first time I've heard of someone maintaining such a precise, parallel breathing rhythm in a setting."

Mr. West, who had been standing silently to the side, finally spoke up: "Fourth place, there's still a chance in the second round."

He is concise and pragmatic, always saying only what needs to be said, without uttering a single extra word.

Palmer and Hutchinson were eating sandwiches against the wall in the distance.

Palmer's grades were probably near the bottom; he only read two paragraphs before coming down, but there was no sign of frustration on his face.

"Hutchinson, where are you ranked?"

"Ninth from the bottom."

"Where am I from last?"

"Third from last."

"There are two others worse than me?" Palmer's spirits lifted. "Which two?"

"One forgot to speak when he went on stage, and the other mispronounced Veres as Virgil."

"Wow, so many slackers. I managed to recite at least two passages. I won, I won."

Richard finished the sandwich and milk that Mr. Holland had brought him, then went to the side corridor and found a stone bench to sit down.

After eating bread and ham, the digestive efficiency in the stomach increased significantly.

My mind remained clear, without the usual post-lunch drowsiness.

He mentally reviewed the scores from the first round of individual sections.

The highest rhetorical comprehension score in the entire competition indicates that the judges recognized the depth of his understanding of the speech.

On stage, he was not only reciting, but also relaying Cicero's words.

Every accusation hit the mark emotionally.

The first round is about basic skills, and he lacks in hard power.

The second round tests his on-the-spot adaptability and depth of expression, which are precisely the two things he has in abundance.

………………

The second round began at 2 PM.

When the host stood on the stage to announce the topic, Richard and the other contestants each received a blank sheet of paper and a pencil.

The second round's theme: "Where are the boundaries of civilization?"

As soon as the host finished reading the question, the scratching sound of pencils on paper immediately came from every corner.

The contestants dispersed to prepare; some lay on stone benches writing furiously, while others leaned against the wall with their eyes closed, organizing their thoughts.

Montagu sat under a stone pillar, his right leg crossed over his left, and his pencil moved smoothly across the paper.

His posture was exactly the same as before he went on stage in the first round: relaxed and composed, as if he were writing a letter home.

While writing, he would occasionally glance up at the murals on the dome, his pen never stopping.

Richard knew very well what lay behind this composure.

"The Boundaries of Civilization" is probably not a new topic for Montagu.

Catherine crouched in the corner, her red hair falling onto the paper. She wrote quickly, occasionally crossing out a line and rewriting it.

She was very strong; the pencil almost tore the paper, and the words she wrote were fast and forceful.

The temperament of the Highlanders is clearly written on paper.

Phillips held a teacup in one hand and drew an outline on a piece of paper with the other.

He always manages to get his hands on tea; that's a talent in itself.

Richard laid the paper on his lap and wrote a beginning on it with a pencil.

He stopped after writing the first sentence.

The pencil twirled twice between my fingers.

wrong.

He begins his writing with a standard political science approach: "Since ancient times, the distinction between civilization and barbarism has been a product of the discourse of power."

This opening is fine and logically sound, but it will likely overlap with the thinking of the previous contestants.

Colonialism, cultural clashes, legal systems... these are all angles that everyone would think of, and they're all too old news.

Montagu would use the most beautiful words to describe this angle to its fullest extent, while Catherine would use the sharpest methods to hit the most painful spot.

He has no chance of winning if he competes against them on the same track.

To win, you have to switch to a different track.

He crumpled the paper into a ball and stuffed it into his pocket.

Simon, who was standing next to him, was somewhat surprised to see him crumpling up the paper: "You're not going to write anymore?"

"Write it in your head."

"You're really something." Simon lowered his head and continued writing furiously.

Richard leaned against the stone wall and closed his eyes.

The words Mr. Hutton had spoken in the first lesson began to replay automatically in my mind.

"Instruments don't lie, but their measurement range is limited."

Room, walls, water pipes.

The passage he read while deciphering Appendix C: If the visible world is likened to a house, then the world behind the curtain is like the pipes in the walls.

When two memories collide, a framework takes shape in the mind.

He didn't need to write a draft; he had prepared these words for a long time.

To be precise, the words had been slowly growing in his mind ever since he first heard them in Mr. Hutton's class.

After a 15-minute preparation period, the contestants will go on stage in reverse order of their first-round rankings.

Those listed later will be discussed first, and those listed earlier will be discussed later.

However, it's not always in reverse order; those with similar rankings are sometimes mixed up, and Richard was "lucky" enough to draw the last one.

The performances of the first dozen or so people varied greatly.

Some chose the perspective of colonialism, some approached it from the legal system, some discussed cultural conflicts, and some even talked about the impact of railways and telegraphs on the spread of civilization.

The level of expertise varies, but most people's thinking revolves within the realm of political science.

After taking office, Palmer said, "The limit of civilization is the limit of how much Latin I can memorize."

The audience burst into laughter, and even the professors on the judging panel couldn't help but laugh.

Then Palmer spoke seriously for two minutes about the impact of industrialization on traditional communities, using simple language but offering some insightful points.

Although his Latin was atrocious, he was actually quite good at expressing himself in Albion.

As he stepped off the stage, he bowed to the judges and said, "Gratias vobis ago." (Thank you all.)

I finally pronounced it correctly this time.