202: If everyone is in the same boat, then it's not a real tragedy.

The clock pointed to eleven.

Top floor of the Yuyuan Technology Building, the Command Center.

Only sixty minutes remained until the seventy-two-hour extreme challenge's deadline.

On the massive LED Monitoring Wall, the originally lit 1,006 grids

now had over two hundred turned into dark "Offline" states.

Those were Examinees who submitted early or chose to forfeit due to unbearable claustrophobic pressure.

In the remaining seven hundred-plus split screens, a silent disaster film was unfolding.

Candidate 0430 was wailing at the screen while frantically hitting the delete key, face smeared with snot and tears.

Candidate 0709 was dry heaving by the keyboard, about to vomit bile.

Just five hours earlier, two stretchers had been carried out from different hotels,

those two reportedly hallucinated due to prolonged intense concentration.

"It's like Taming a Hawk Through Exhaustion."

Tao Zhiyan's palms were sweaty,

his eyes fixed on the corner screen for Candidate 0816, which had been dark for over forty hours.

That was Lin Que's exam station.

"Old Gu, is your heart made of iron?"

Tao Zhiyan finally couldn't hold back, turning to look at Gu Changfeng beside him, who wore a calm expression.

"Over forty hours! If that time were spent polishing a draft, how refined could 'folding beijing' become?

Now, instead, a raw gem is left uncarved there, what if someone overtakes it..."

Gu Changfeng's fingers, stroking the purple clay teapot, paused slightly,

then he casually brought the teacup to his lips, masking the anxiety in his eyes with the act of drinking.

He set down the cup, his tone flat:

"It's already submitted, overthinking it just brings unnecessary trouble."

"Sometimes, revising an article too much wears away its raw, fierce energy."

Though he said this, Gu Changfeng's gaze involuntarily drifted to the center of the screen.

That was Xu Changge's split screen.

It had to be admitted, the Scions nurtured in the Beijing Circle were terrifyingly steady.

In the footage, Xu Changge sat upright, focused and unflustered.

His document word count was fixed at thirty-five thousand seven hundred words,

currently undergoing a final proofread, even agonizing for over ten minutes between "desolate" and "ancient."

Every punctuation mark was placed in its most suitable position.

This meticulous polishing made his article resemble a Jun Porcelain piece about to emerge from the kiln, exuding flawless craftsmanship.

"This is the Premium Selection Look."

Several Judges nearby couldn't help but praise.

"Steady and thorough, leaving no gaps."

Gu Changfeng withdrew his gaze, rubbing his thumb hard against the teapot.

Lin Que, kid, don't let this old face get slapped... At this moment.

Wenjin Pavilion Hotel, Room 0816.

If the big shots in the Command Center could see through that black screen,

and witness the scene in the room, Gu Changfeng might have crushed that purple clay teapot.

The room had heavy blackout curtains drawn, no lights on.

The Desktop Computer connected to the exam system had long been shut down, its screen dark.

On the other corner of the desk, Lin Que's personal Laptop emitted an eerie blue glow, illuminating his wide-awake face.

His state was even more frenzied and focused than during the exam.

Those eyes, usually carrying a hint of lazy amusement, now looked frighteningly deep.

Only the rapid, dense tapping sounds remained in the room.

In the document, as the protagonist Angel sorted through his late great-uncle's belongings, the nightmare named "Cthulhu" was gradually surfacing.

【It was a magnificent ruin completely defying geometric principles, filled with nauseating non-Euclidean distortions.】

【Slippery stone walls oozed green mucus, the air reeked of decay from billions of years ago.】

【An octopus-like head, a rubbery body, and those tattered yet mind-obscuring giant wings...】

Every word seemed to challenge the limits of human imagination, probing wildly at the edge of reason.

Lin Que was completely immersed.

That damp, fishy, deep-sea oppressive feeling flowed from his fingertips into the document.

【In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.】

Outside the window was Beijing's midday sun, the ground floor crowded with media eager for interviews,

time ticked away.

11:55.

With the final period placed, Lin Que let out a long breath.

Sixty thousand words.

Volume One of 'cthulhu mythos,' 'The Call of Cthulhu,' completed.

Once back at the studio, this mental nuclear bomb could be dropped into the Web Novel Circle.

He looked at the twisted, grotesque, blasphemous words on the screen.

"In this world where even ghosts must follow physical magnetic fields, I hope this 'indescribable' lets you sleep well."

Lin Que pressed save, closed the Laptop.

Just then.

"Dong——"

Within Qingbei University's campus, the Century-Old Bronze Bell, only rung during major ceremonies, emitted a deep, distant toll.

Twelve o'clock sharp.

The bell's sound pierced through Wenjin Pavilion's glass curtain wall and the tense air in the Command Center.

Professor Liu Zuoqing stood up from the main console, straightening his zhongshan suit collar.

"Time's up."

"All terminals locked immediately."

"I declare, this year's 'Fuzhi Yao' national finals officially concluded."

With those words, the over a thousand Electronic Door Locks at Wenjin Pavilion Hotel, closed for three days, unlocked simultaneously with a uniform "click."

"Ah——!!!"

"It's finally over! I survived!"

"I finished! I really did it! Wuwu..."

The previously dead-silent hotel corridor was instantly flooded with erupting noise.

Some rushed out of rooms roaring at the sky, others collapsed exhausted at their doors,

and some hugged neighboring Examinees they'd just met, weeping bitterly.

This wasn't an exam ending; it was a prison release.

Inside Room 0816.

Lin Que stood up, walked to the mirror.

The eyes of the person in the mirror, long immersed in deep-sea terror, slowly regained focus.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

When he reopened them, the frenzy and gloom in his gaze had vanished,

replaced by his usual lazy, casual demeanor.

He yawned, squeezing out two physiological tears from the corners of his eyes,

casually grabbed the dark blue jacket draped over the chair, and pushed the door open.

The corridor was packed with people.

Lin Que had just reached the elevator when he bumped into a staggering figure.

That was Chen Jiahao.

This chubby, bespectacled guy now looked disheveled, hair a bird's nest,

dark circles like a panda's, as if drained by a spirit.

Seeing Lin Que, Chen Jiahao's dull eyes brightened slightly, lunging over as if grabbing a lifeline.

"Que... Que God!"

Chen Jiahao nervously rubbed his hands, lowering his voice to ask:

"This topic was too insane, how'd you do? I only wrote thirty-one thousand words, barely submitted on time."

Lin Que pressed the elevator down button, watching the red numbers change, casually saying:

"Not bad."

"Just a bit brain-draining."

"That's good, that's good..."

Chen Jiahao sighed in relief, seeming to find some comfort in the big shot's "modesty."

If everyone suffers equally, then it's not suffering.

"I also thought this was too hard, probably everyone wrote similarly.

I thought you'd pull some big move again, looks like you played it safe this time too."

Lin Que looked at his relieved expression, responding with a meaningful smile.

Big move?

If folding the entire city of Beijing counts as a big move, then there is one.

If pulling the Old Ones from the ocean depths counts as a big move, then add another.

"Ding."

The elevator door slowly opened.

"Let's go."

Lin Que stepped in first, adjusting his collar.

"Out to breathe some free air."

Chen Jiahao naturally followed, steps unsteady:

"Que God, wait for me!

I can't take it, I need to eat something good to recover..."