203: Giant letters that have never appeared before

The clamor outside the Wenjin Pavilion Hotel was completely cut off by a distance of two kilometers and triple checkpoints.

Yuyuan Technology Building, third floor.

This was one of the highest security areas in all of Qingbei University,

and at this moment, it had been temporarily requisitioned as the grading center for the "Fu Zhi Yao" finals.

In the corridor, security personnel in black uniforms stood solemnly on both sides,

their eyes scanning every passing shadow like hawks.

Signals for the entire floor were cut off by military-grade jammers, and all personnel entering or exiting had to pass through three rounds of security checks,

even a mechanical watch with a recording function would be ruthlessly stopped at the door.

The air was filled with a solemn, killing aura even more intense than that of the examination hall.

Because everyone knew that what was happening here

was a war that would determine the fate of the Huaxia literary world for the next thirty years.

Inside the spacious lecture hall, the curtains were tightly drawn.

At the main control console, Zhou Wenyuan glanced at the electronic clock on the wall and turned to face the audience below.

Sitting there were forty doctoral supervisors as well as professors and associate professors urgently summoned from the schools of liberal arts of top universities like Qingbei University, Renmin University, and Fudan University.

On ordinary days, they were the leading lights of the academic world.

Now, they were merely the most expensive "screeners."

"Everyone." Zhou Wenyuan's voice was crisp, without any nonsense.

He pressed the red button on the main control console.

"Buzz—"

The giant LED wall at the front of the hall, the size of a movie screen, lit up instantly,

and countless streams of deep blue data poured down like a waterfall.

"This is the Huayue 3.0 Intelligent Auxiliary System, and it is also our core weapon for this grading process."

Zhou Wenyuan pointed at the screen, speaking very quickly:

"We only have forty-eight hours. There are a total of nine hundred and fifty-nine valid works.

Relying on human eyes is not only slow but also easy to be blinded by flowery language.

abbreviation for the system doesn't look at the writing style;

it only scans the 'skeletal structure': semantic analysis, emotional logic, and architectural integrity."

Several colored blocks were demonstrated on the screen.

"Gray is chaos, blue is mediocre, gold is excellent, and red is top-tier."

Zhou Wenyuan leaned his hands on the edge of the table, his gaze scanning the room:

"The award ceremony is scheduled for two days from now, and the final list for the 'Qinglan Project' must be confirmed before then.

This is a dual extreme challenge of physical and mental strength. I have only one requirement—"

He paused, his voice deepening.

"Be sharp-eyed and cold-hearted. Don't let those who are just making up the numbers sneak through this door."

With an order given, the grading officially began.

The sound of keyboard tapping was so sparse it was unsettling,

replaced mostly by the crisp sound of mice continuously clicking the "Eliminate" button.

This group of professors, who had seen far too much writing, were expressionless; they didn't even need to finish the first three paragraphs, just a glance at the structure, and they would coldly pass a death sentence.

The lounge next door.

Separated by a single wall, this was a restricted area for "non-grading personnel."

Gu Changfeng and Tao Zhiyan, as the Chairman of the Writers Association who had personally been at the invigilation site,

were strictly forbidden from stepping foot into the grading hall to avoid any suspicion.

The two of them stared at each other over a pot of tea that had already lost its flavor.

"Old Gu, aren't you nervous?"

"I know those old scholars too well; every one of them is extremely traditional.

If they see an article that doesn't follow the rules, they'll just strike it down with a single 'kill' command."

Gu Changfeng forced his wrist to stay steady and took a sip of tea.

He wasn't nervous?

He was scared to death.

Lin Que's "folding beijing" was an extreme case of taking an unconventional path.

In this pile of lukewarm water that likely all wrote about mental walls and communication barriers, Lin Que had directly changed the physical rules.

This kind of rebellious writing style was either a brilliant stroke that stood out from the crowd or a suicide seen as heresy.

"What's the use of being nervous?"

Gu Changfeng feigned composure and blew on his tea.

"The 'abbreviation for the system' system reviews it first. Machines have no feelings; they only look at logic.

As long as the logic is a closed loop, those Old Professors have no reason to kill it."

"True."

Tao Zhiyan nodded, then gave a bitter smile.

"The fear is that even the machine won't be able to understand his logic."

Inside the grading hall.

The atmosphere was becoming dull and anxious at a rate visible to the naked eye.

Just as everyone expected, this time's topic, [Wall], had indeed become a disaster zone of clichés.

A gray-haired Old Professor took off his glasses and rubbed his brow forcefully:

"It's all father-son estrangement and lover's misunderstandings. Don't young people today have any other material besides falling in love and arguing with their parents?"

The professor next to him shook his head with a bitter smile.

"The writing style isn't bad, using a bunch of parallelisms, but it gets nauseating after seeing too much of it."

On the big screen, the panoramic display of the "abbreviation for the system" system was even more shocking.

It was a bleak ocean of gray and white.

The system's judgment of "architectural ability" was cold to the extreme. Most students were used to piling up flowery words and carving details on microscopic emotions but lacked the ability to construct a macroscopic worldview.

This resulted in scores hovering in the blue zones of B+ and A- levels.

"Disappointing."

Zhou Wenyuan looked at that patch of gray-blue, his brow furrowed.

Is this the current state of Huaxia's high school students?

If these are the pillars of the future, this house probably won't last a few years before collapsing.

Just as the morale of the entire hall was about to hit rock bottom.

"Beep—"

In a corner, a crisp notification sound suddenly came from the headphones of an Old Professor from Fudan University.

This sound seemed particularly abrupt in the hall where there was only the dull sound of clicking.

The Old Professor's spirits were lifted, and he quickly sat up straight.

On the screen in front of him, the system had given an article numbered 0622 a bright red tag—[A+].

"Finally, something different has come out!"

The Old Professor could hardly hide his excitement.

Zhou Wenyuan walked over quickly.

On the screen was an article titled "Kites Under the Berlin Wall."

The author did not limit themselves to personal emotions but instead raised their perspective to historical heights,

using the fall of the Berlin Wall as a background to tell a heavy story about freedom and faith.

The concept was extraordinary, and the architecture was complete.

"Initiate the cross-review mechanism."

The Old Professor nodded slightly and clicked the [Submit for Review] button.

This was to ensure fairness and also to verify the quality.

With this shot of adrenaline, the atmosphere in the hall became slightly more active.

But in the following two hours, except for two more works that barely reached the A+ level,

the screen fell back into a suffocating cycle of blue and white.

Time passed minute by minute.

Many Old Professors had already started drinking their third cup of strong tea, and the bloodshot streaks in their eyes grew heavier.

Aesthetic fatigue was spreading like poison.

If no truly world-shaking work appeared, this "Fu Zhi Yao" might become a laughingstock.

Suddenly.

"Buzz—!!!"

A notification sound louder than before, even carrying a certain sense of vibration, rang out from the main control console.

That wasn't an ordinary notification; it was a special alert when the system determined a work of extremely high weight had appeared.

The whole room went silent.

Everyone's eyes instantly focused on the big screen.

"System failure?"

"What's going on? A virus?"

Zhou Wenyuan's expression changed; he knew a premium selection was coming.

In the center of the professor's screen, the particles converged,

finally condensing into a giant letter that had never appeared before:

[S]

...