843: Chapter 838 The Language of Deep Blue

Chen Guangke chuckled and tucked his sunglasses into his pocket.

Following the system's guidance,

they arrived at Experimental Building No. 3.

The largest lecture hall was packed with people.

Even the aisles were full.

On the podium, a middle-aged man dressed in an exquisite suit with slicked-back, shiny hair was speaking eloquently.

It was Zhang Daolin from the banner.

"Students,"

Zhang Daolin held a laser pointer, indicating a complex circuit diagram on the projection screen.

"The future of Artificial Intelligence lies in stacking."

"As long as our transistor count is high enough and our computing power is massive enough, quantitative change will inevitably lead to qualitative change."

"This is the 'Aesthetic of Brute Force' theory I proposed."

The audience erupted in applause.

Several school leaders sitting in the front row nodded frequently, their faces plastered with ingratiating smiles.

Shen Yan stood in the corner near the back door.

He listened for two minutes.

It was all nonsense.

It was like teaching people how to make a carriage bigger so it could run faster than a train.

The direction was wrong; the faster they ran, the more miserably they would perish.

His gaze didn't linger on the podium.

Instead, he scanned every corner of the classroom.

Finally, in the shadow beside the podium, he saw that figure.

Xu Mo.

He was wearing a drab set of work clothes and holding a mop.

He was looking down, staring at a blackboard next to the podium.

On that blackboard was written a set of formulas Zhang Daolin had just derived.

Xu Mo's lips were moving.

Muttering something silently.

The mop handle was gripped so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Suddenly, Zhang Daolin reached the climax of his lecture.

"To verify my theory, I specifically prepared an unsolved algorithmic problem."

He quickly wrote a line of functions on the blackboard.

"This is the deadlock concerning neural network latency. If anyone can solve it, I will take him as my final disciple and directly recommend him to the Silicon Valley lab!"

The audience burst into an uproar.

Students were eager to try, but soon they all lowered their heads.

It was too difficult.

This was fundamentally unsolvable with existing logic.

Just as the entire hall fell into a dead silence,

an extremely discordant sound rang out.

"This... this premise... is wrong."

The voice wasn't loud,

but it sounded particularly jarring in the quiet classroom.

Everyone's eyes turned over.

They saw the janitor in the corner staring blankly at the blackboard, seemingly unaware that he had spoken his inner thoughts aloud.

Zhang Daolin's expression darkened.

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes full of contempt.

"Master...?"

"You say my premise is wrong?"

A burst of mocking laughter erupted from the audience.

"Isn't that Xu Mo? That lunatic?"

"I heard he used to be a genius, but then his brain fried, and he's been muttering nonsense all day."

"A mere cleaner dares to question Professor Zhang? Who gave him the courage?"

Xu Mo flinched under their gazes.

He wanted to retreat, to escape back to the safety of the utility room.

But looking at the flawed formula on the blackboard, the compulsion etched into his bones kept him rooted to the spot.

"Silicon-based... has limits."

Xu Mo stammered.

"Electron mobility... at this temperature... will collapse."

"You should use... use..."

"Enough!"

Zhang Daolin slammed the lectern.

"Security! Where is security? How can any kind of person be let in here? This is a sacred hall of academia, not a mental asylum!"

Two security guards immediately rushed in from the door and grabbed Xu Mo's arms, one on each side.

Xu Mo didn't resist. His eyes instantly dimmed, like a flame that had just been lit and then stomped out.

He was used to it.

This was reality.

No one cared about truth; they only cared about titles.

Just as Xu Mo prepared to be thrown out like trash, as usual,

a hand.

A long, powerful hand pressed down on the security guard's shoulder.

"Hold on."

The voice was soft,

yet it carried an undeniable authority.

Shen Yan walked out from the crowd. Chen Guangke followed behind him, and with a gentle nudge like an iron tower, he made the security guard release his grip.

"Who are you?"

Zhang Daolin frowned. He recognized Shen Yan's extraordinary demeanor and didn't dare to lash out immediately.

"Who I am is not important."

Shen Yan didn't look at Zhang Daolin. He walked straight to Xu Mo and reached out, straightening the crooked collar of the downcast genius's work uniform.

"What's important is that he is correct."

The entire hall was in an uproar again.

Who was this person? Another lunatic?

Zhang Daolin was so angry he laughed.

"He is correct?"

"Young man, do you know who I am? Do you know what you are questioning?"

"This is a top-tier algorithm certified by the IEEE!"

Shen Yan turned around to face the flushed Zhang Daolin. He offered no defense.

He simply took a pen from his pocket, walked to the blackboard, drew an 'X' next to that line of complex functions,

then wrote a single word.

"Graphene."

Next, he drew a simple topological structure diagram.

It was the core logic gate from Turing's manuscript regarding 'Neuron Simulation'.

Zhang Daolin was stunned.

He didn't understand it.

But he could feel a strange beauty contained within that structure diagram.

The students in the audience were also bewildered.

Only Xu Mo.

The Xu Mo whose eyes had been dead gray.

The moment he saw that diagram, his pupils contracted violently, and his body began to tremble.

Not from fear, but from excitement.

It was like a person who had walked in the desert for forty days suddenly seeing a clear spring.

"Hexagonal... architecture..."

Xu Mo murmured.

He violently broke free from Chen Guangke's protection and rushed to the blackboard.

He snatched the pen from Shen Yan's hand and began writing furiously behind that diagram.

Swish, swish, swish!

Chalk dust flew into the air.

Lines of formulas that did not belong to this era poured out like flowing water.

Zhang Daolin stared blankly.

He wanted to interrupt but found he couldn't get a word in.

Because he couldn't follow Xu Mo's train of thought at all.

Was this still the lunatic who could barely speak clearly?

Three minutes later, Xu Mo stopped writing. The blackboard was completely covered.

It was the most ruthless mockery of Zhang Daolin's so-called 'Aesthetic of Brute Force'.

Using an entirely new logic, it bypassed the deadlock directly.

The classroom was deathly silent.

Although most people couldn't understand everything, anyone who had studied advanced mathematics could see that the concise result derived at the end was correct, flawless.

Snap.

The piece of chalk in Xu Mo's hand broke.

He snapped back to reality, looked at the blackboard full of writing, and suddenly felt a bit flustered.

He turned his head to look at Shen Yan,

his eyes holding a trace of verification, and a sliver of cautious hope.

"This... this solution... is it correct?"

Shen Yan looked at him and nodded.

"This is the language of deep blue."

Tears instantly streamed down Xu Mo's face.

Three years.