204: The only SSS

"S-rank?!"

That professor let out a low exclamation.

This was the first S-rank produced by the abbreviation for the system 3.0 system—known as the "Impartial Judge"—in the seven hours since the exam began.

Zhou Wenyuan had been patrolling the aisles with his hands behind his back.

Hearing the commotion, his pace quickened instantly, and he reached the professor's side in a few steps.

His gaze swept over the professor's shoulder and landed on the title.

"soul of the ancient wall."

Zhou Wenyuan's eyebrows quirked, and the tense lines of his face relaxed visibly.

As expected, it was him.

Only a scion of a noble family who grew up at the foot of the Imperial City, listening to the pigeon whistles by the city walls...

...and whose family library could fill two rooms...

...could write about the topic "Wall" with such a profound sense of historical depth at this age.

"A fine piece of writing."

The professor clicked his tongue in praise while scrolling with the mouse.

"The writing is sophisticated, and the conception is lofty. Comparing the ancient city walls to the backbone of the nation, then transitioning to the barriers in the hearts of modern people—the shift is as smooth as silk. This structure is simply exquisite."

Zhou Wenyuan scanned the main text.

It was indeed solid.

Every word and sentence seemed measured with a ruler; not a single flaw could be found.

This kind of writing was born to win awards; it was a textbook-level "premium selection."

"Old Xu's grandson didn't let the Beijing circle down after all."

Zhou Wenyuan mentally approved of it, but his face showed no joy. He simply gave a faint nod.

"The structure is indeed excellent. Professor Wen, don't get too excited. Put it in the 'Review Pool' and wait for the final decision tomorrow."

With this S-rank piece as an anchor, the anxious atmosphere in the hall finally cooled down.

Everyone felt reassured, and their mouse clicks became a bit lighter.

After all, as long as there was one presentable piece, the reputation of this year's competition would be preserved.

Zhou Wenyuan raised his wrist and glanced at his old-fashioned mechanical watch.

7:30 PM.

The high-intensity mental strain was taking a toll on his old bones, and his temples throbbed.

He turned around and waved his hand at the staff member behind him.

Signaling that he was going out for some air, he pushed open the heavy wooden door leading to the adjacent lounge... across the wall in the lounge.

Tao Zhiyan was currently pacing back and forth in the room of less than twenty square meters like a donkey at a mill...

...practically wearing a path into the carpet.

Gu Changfeng, on the other hand, remained seated.

He held his purple clay teapot, his backside seemingly glued to the sofa.

However, his thumb kept rubbing the spout of the teapot.

As soon as the sound of the door lock turning rang out, Tao Zhiyan lunged forward as if he were on springs.

"How is it, Old Zhou?!"

The man from the Northwest stared wide-eyed and grabbed Zhou Wenyuan's arm.

"It's been seven and a half hours!"

Zhou Wenyuan felt dizzy from the shaking and brushed his hand away irritably before walking to the coffee table.

An assistant, being very observant, handed him a cup of hot tea.

Zhou Wenyuan took it but didn't rush to drink. First, he let the steam soothe his dry eyes, then he spoke unhurriedly.

"What's the rush? Don't you trust the efficiency of the abbreviation for the system system? In seven and a half hours, it's scanned over five hundred entries."

"And the results?"

Gu Changfeng couldn't help himself either, leaning forward slightly.

"Most are grayish-blue, which means below A-rank."

Zhou Wenyuan spoke the truth.

"Kids these days pile on fancy words beautifully, but when it comes to structure, they fall apart. However..."

He paused and took a sip of tea.

"An S-rank just appeared."

"An S?!"

Tao Zhiyan and Gu Changfeng gasped simultaneously.

Gu Changfeng's rubbing of the purple clay teapot stopped abruptly, and his gaze sharpened instantly.

"Who is it?"

"The kid from the Xu family."

Zhou Wenyuan set down his teacup and leaned back comfortably against the sofa.

The light in Gu Changfeng's eyes dimmed slightly, then he regained his calm demeanor.

He leaned back against the sofa again.

"He's within expectations. The heritage of the Beijing circle is indeed no mere facade."

However, he gripped the purple clay teapot even tighter.

Xu Changge got an S, but what about Lin Que?

What would that detached-from-reality "folding beijing" look like in the eyes of that cold machine?

"Alright."

Zhou Wenyuan rubbed his brow and stood up to stretch his stiff lower back.

"Let's call it a day. Those Old Professors inside are getting on in years; someone might drop dead if we keep pushing.

The progress is faster than expected. We'll finish the preliminary review tomorrow morning and do the final review in the afternoon. There's plenty of time."

Although Tao Zhiyan felt as if a cat were scratching at his heart, he knew this couldn't be rushed.

"Fine, let's head out then."

Tao Zhiyan sighed and grabbed his coat.

"I'm hungry too. Old Gu, want to grab some late-night snacks? I have a bottle of Xifeng liquor that's been stored for ten years..."

Gu Changfeng nodded absentmindedly and was about to get up.

Just then.

*Knock, knock, knock!*

There was a knock on the lounge door.

The knocking was extremely heavy and urgent, sounding less like knocking and more like pounding.

Zhou Wenyuan frowned, but before he could speak, the door was pushed open roughly.

A young Writers Association staff member entered. Usually the most composed girl,

she now looked as if she had just finished a marathon. She was drenched in sweat, her face was pale, and she didn't even notice her glasses were crooked.

"Chair... Chairman Zhou!"

The staff member panted heavily, her chest heaving.

"Hmm?"

Zhou Wenyuan's face darkened.

The staff member swallowed hard, completely ignoring Zhou Wenyuan's grim expression.

She rushed to Zhou Wenyuan's side, disregarding the chairmen from other provinces nearby.

She leaned in and whispered a sentence into Zhou Wenyuan's ear in a voice so trembling it was almost out of tune.

"What did you say?"

Zhou Wenyuan's hand holding the tea froze in mid-air. The liquid in the cup shook violently, and a few drops of hot tea splashed onto his hand.

He was completely oblivious, merely staring urgently at the staff member.

His usual composure, which wouldn't falter even if Mount Tai collapsed before him, cracked in an instant.

"Are you sure?"

Zhou Wenyuan's voice was a bit airy.

"You... you should go see for yourself."

The staff member was so anxious she was almost in tears.

The next second.

Under the bewildered gazes of Tao Zhiyan and Gu Changfeng, Zhou Wenyuan slammed his teacup onto the table.

"Clatter!"

The teacup overturned, spilling tea all over the table.

Without explaining a single word to the two, Zhou Wenyuan turned and pulled open the door.

He sprinted toward the grading hall in a frantic rush, his speed unlike that of a man nearly fifty years old.

He left behind a room of dead silence.

Tao Zhiyan's mouth hung open, his jaw nearly hitting the floor.

"Has Old Zhou... gone mad?"

Gu Changfeng didn't speak.

His heart began to pound violently. A powerful premonition shot up his spine to the top of his head.

To make Zhou Wenyuan lose his composure like this... could it be...? By the time Zhou Wenyuan reached the entrance of the grading hall, he didn't even have time to catch his breath.

Because a massive, low hum was leaking through the crack in the door.

"Vrrr—"

This wasn't the crisp, pleasant chime that signaled an S-rank.

This sound was heavy and oppressive, carrying a sense of weight.

Zhou Wenyuan threw open the door.

The sight in the hall made him stumble.

The once orderly grading hall was now in total chaos.

All the professors had left their seats and were gathered around a central workstation.

In the center of the circle stood a person.

Professor Yan.

This "King of Hell" from the Chinese Department of University, known for his sharp tongue and ruthless heart,

who could tear a doctoral student's thesis to shreds, was currently gripping the corner of the desk tightly.

His round-framed glasses had slipped to the tip of his nose.

And on the screen in front of him.

There was no golden light.

Instead, it was a sea of blood-red.

There were three letters that seemed to be burning—

[SSS]

...