I loaded the Mysticism panel.

It was Friday, and on the school bus to school, Evelyn sat in the row behind him, squeezed together with two female classmates.

She poked Richard in the back: "Brother, did you really walk home like that yesterday?"

"Um."

"Are you tired?"

"good."

"Liar." Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Mom said your shirt was soaked with sweat when you came back."

Richard didn't reply, but the girl next to him couldn't help but chuckle.

Evelyn glared at the girl, a little annoyed.

………………

The morning classes were packed, with history and geography classes back-to-back.

Richard sat in the classroom and discovered for the first time that attending classes didn't have to be so painful.

In the past, listening to lectures felt like listening through a layer of water; the teacher's words would reverberate as they reached my ears, making it impossible to grasp the key points.

Things are different now. The changes brought about by his increased knowledge have enabled his brain to automatically categorize information.

When the teacher introduces a concept, he can quickly connect it to things he already knows.

When talking about the distribution of colonies in the New World, the coastline he had drawn in geography class yesterday automatically came to mind.

When discussing the history of steam engine improvements, the years and names are no longer just numbers crammed together; they automatically form a timeline, making the cause and effect clear at a glance.

Experience is steadily increasing.

[Knowledge] Lv.1 Experience: 8/200

My score improved by several points after two lessons; classroom learning is definitely more efficient than learning by flipping through the book on my own.

If you maintain this frequency every day, plus self-study after class...

It's foreseeable that it will reach level two within a month, and possibly even faster.

The third lesson was Latin, which is the dividing line between "gentleman's education" and "artisan's education".

Students who achieve good grades in Latin have the opportunity to apply to Imperial University of Tokyo for further studies after graduation.

If you can't get it, you can usually only go to a local technical college.

Mr. Holland, who taught Latin, was in his early forties, broad-shouldered, with a triple chin that overlapped his collar.

He usually speaks in a muffled voice, and his students privately call him "the fat guy with a walnut in his mouth".

But as soon as he opens his mouth to recite Latin, he sounds like a crowing rooster, with a clear and powerful voice.

"Today, we will review Cicero's first speech, Catiline."

He opened his textbook, put one hand behind his back, and said, "Warren, recite the third paragraph."

Warren stood up and, though he stumbled over his words, he managed to memorize them.

Children from wealthy families often have private tutors from a young age, so they at least have a basic foundation.

"It's alright, sit down." Holland turned to the back seat: "Fenton, it's your turn."

When Hugh stood up, his face turned pale.

He opened his mouth, and stammered as he began:

"Quo usque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra…

(Katilin, how long are you going to abuse our patience...)

That's where we get stuck.

Holland prompted with a blank expression:

"Quam diu etiam furor iste tuus nos eludet?

(How long are you going to keep fooling us with this madness?)

Hugh blushed and repeated it, then got stuck again.

"Alright, sit down."

Holland continued calling out names in order, and Richard was sitting right behind Hugh:

"Williams, you give it a try."

A few curious heads turned around in the classroom.

Their eyes held a hint of schadenfreude; this sickly boy had always been consistently at the bottom of the class in Latin.

Richard quickly glanced at the textbook, then closed the book and stood up.

In my memory, this period of memorization has always been a nightmare.

Latin texts are difficult to read, and Cicero's long sentences are complex and nested, with clauses within clauses.

For a sickly teenager who frequently suffers from headaches, it's no different from chewing on a piece of cowhide that can never be chewed through.

But now, when he opens his mouth, those Latin sentences automatically come to mind.

From the beginning to the fourth and fifth sentences, keep going forward.

There was no hesitation or deliberate acceleration in the transitions between sentences.

After reciting the entire passage, Holland's expression changed from routine to scrutiny:

"Williams, you..."

"What's wrong, sir?"

"Your pronunciation has improved so much since last week."

The distinction between long and short vowels is particularly well done; you must have been working hard on it lately, right?

"Yes, sir, I've been cramming on the basics lately."

Holland hummed in agreement, then didn't press further and continued lecturing.

As Richard sat down, he caught a glimpse of Hugh's expression out of the corner of his eye.

That face was screaming, "When did you become like this?"

………………

After the bell rang, the classroom became noisy.

The students packed up their textbooks, the chair legs dragging loudly on the floor.

"Williams, come here for a moment."

A bald, middle-aged man stood beside the podium, one hand supporting himself on the table, the other twirling a piece of chalk.

The other students filed out, and a few glanced in this direction before leaving.

After the classroom was empty, Holland put the chalk back in the trough and dusted off his hands.

"Did you know that Beijing hosts the 'Cicero Cup' every autumn?"

"...I'm not sure."

"It's a joint Latin speech competition. Greenwood has two spots each year, usually for upperclassmen."

He put his hands in his pockets:

"But this year is a bit special; there aren't enough people signing up from the upper grades."

When he said this, he had a sense of helplessness that only teachers have.

The students at Greenwood are all afraid to participate in this kind of competition.

For Holland, leaving the spot vacant would be a waste of his prestige within the Classical Society.

He had originally planned to have Lillian Hayward attend.

That girl had a solid foundation, and her written studies were consistently among the best.

However, during a small-scale presentation at school last semester, with only about twenty people, Lillian's voice trembled the whole time after she went on stage, and she couldn't speak without her notes.

Speech contests typically have hundreds of people in the audience, which would be a disaster for her.

Richard's performance in class today surprised him.

This child must have been putting in a lot of effort after class; he's going to give it a try.

"I need one more student to participate. Are you interested?"

Richard's first reaction was to refuse. With the cheat system in place, quiet development and slow accumulation were the right path.

"There's a prize for the top three." Holland glanced at the other person's obviously ill-fitting leather shoes:

"First place: fifty pounds; second place: thirty pounds; third place: fifteen pounds."

Richard stopped in his tracks, about to refuse.

"In addition, students who achieve a ranking will be included in the Classical Society's recommended list."

Holland added:

"The wealthy families in Beijing hire tutors from this list."

Once you're on the list, one hour of instruction costs as much as a day's wages for an average worker.

Fifty pounds!

Even if we only get third place, fifteen pounds is still the amount my mother has carefully calculated over two months while holding the butter knife.

The significance of the referral list is even more far-reaching, as it represents a channel that can generate continuous income.

He swallowed back the refusal that was on the tip of his tongue: "I'll participate."

Holland nodded, his face expressionless.

"The competition is in a month and a half. I'm available every Tuesday afternoon to give you individual coaching, free of charge."

"Thank you, sir."

The bald, middle-aged man simply waved his hand and turned to wipe the blackboard.

He had just picked up the eraser when Richard came over: "Sir, let me do it."

Holland was taken aback for a moment, and then the blackboard eraser was taken from his hand.

Richard wiped everything clean from left to right and from top to bottom, and stood on tiptoe to clean the parts he couldn't reach.

Chalk dust fell in swirling patterns; he turned his face away to avoid it and continued wiping.

After wiping, he tapped the blackboard eraser to remove the dust, put it back in the chalk tray, and turned to get his schoolbag.

He didn't say a word throughout, as if the matter wasn't worth making a fuss about.

Holland stood beside the podium, looking at his back with some confusion.

Having taught for twenty years, I've had students who voluntarily helped me erase the blackboard.

But most of the time they'll just glance back at you after wiping it off, just to make a good impression.

This usually quiet kid was surprisingly decisive; he finished his work, grabbed his bag, and left, just like someone casually turning off a light as they passed by.

Richard picked up his schoolbag and walked towards the door.

As I reached the door, a voice came from behind me:

"Williams, you have a better foundation than you think, don't waste it."

Richard's smile faded slightly as he regained his usual composure.

He has already verified the benefits of knowledge, in addition to individual tutoring.

A month and a half is enough for him to improve to [Knowledge lv2] and then spend another half month accumulating experience, which might allow him to reach the same level as someone who has been tutored one-on-one since childhood.

As for whether we can get a ranking, there are too many variables, so it's not up to us to say right now.

But at least he has a clear short-term goal, and all that's left is to fill in the time day by day.

On his way back, he ran into Hugh at the corner of the stairs.

The boy leaned against the wall waiting for him, his stubborn bangs falling down again.

"What does Holland want with you?"

"Let me participate in a competition."

"What competition?"

"A Latin speech in the capital city."

Hugh's facial expression went through three stages.

First came surprise, then confusion, and finally a wry smile of admiration.

"You used to be one of the worst students in your class."

"So I need to start cramming."

Don't even think about saying anything encouraging; after circling it in my mouth several times, I could only squeeze out one sentence:

"Need any help... never mind, my Latin is worse than yours."

"You can be a listener," Richard said.

"You sit down and listen while I practice. It's okay if you don't understand. Just check the typhoon for me."

"I can handle typhoons."

"That's fine then."

The two walked side by side toward the classroom for the next class, the numbers on the panel quietly pulsating on the edge of their consciousness.

[Breathing] Lv.1 Experience: 28/200

[Knowledge] Lv.1 Experience: 10/200

One can increase their income simply by staying alive, while the other can increase their income by learning; both are in motion.