Chapter 2: Storm in the Exam Hall

The proctor’s fingertips had barely brushed the answer sheet covered in complex derivations when the heavy scent of ink hung in the stagnant air, thick with a sense of impending disaster. Suddenly, the classroom’s heavy oak door was kicked open with a jarring screech, shattering the suffocating silence of the exam hall.

Principal Chen strode in, his dark suit pressed to perfection, his coattails snapping with every aggressive step. Two security guards trailed behind him, their faces masks of cold indifference. His gaze locked onto Shen Xingluo like a laser, his lips curling into a sneer that didn't reach his eyes, radiating a bone-deep chill.

"Shen Xingluo, do you really think a cheater like you deserves to sit here?" His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable weight, like a boulder dropped into a still pond, instantly drowning out the frantic heartbeats of the students. He flicked his hand, signaling the guards to move.

The two guards closed in on the desk, reaching for the answer sheet. Their rough fingers stopped mere millimeters from the thin paper, the draft from their movement nearly ruffling the stray locks of hair falling over Shen Xingluo’s face.

"Watch yourself." Shen Xingluo’s voice was cool, like spring water flowing over stones. She showed no trace of panic, only a calm that bordered on the cruel. She didn't stand up, merely watching the standoff with a sharp, hidden glint in her eyes.

Principal Chen seemed incensed by her composure. A vein throbbed at his temple as he slammed a hand onto the desk, making the test papers jump; the sound of paper rustling was deafening in the quiet room.

"Confiscate it! Now!" He pointed a finger at Shen Xingluo’s forehead, spittle flying as his voice turned shrill with rage. He declared her guilty of cheating, ordering the immediate destruction of her answer sheet and threatening to hand her over for criminal prosecution if she didn't comply.

The raw, naked abuse of power left the surrounding students breathless. No one dared to speak; even their heartbeats seemed swallowed by fear, leaving only the faint, trembling sound of pen tips hovering over paper.

Just as the guard’s hand was about to make contact with the paper, an encrypted signal pulse silently pierced the classroom’s jamming field. A thousand kilometers away, Gu Yan sat in his lab, his fingers flying across a virtual keyboard, the blue light of the monitors reflecting off his stern face.

Through a remote interface, he forcibly breached the exam hall’s high-definition surveillance server. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping near the delicate circuitry, but his eyes never left the screen.

"Locking onto the node. Playing back the last five minutes of footage." Gu Yan’s voice crackled through a hidden microphone, clear in Shen Xingluo’s ear, laced with the faint static of an electronic connection.

At the same time, a holographic projection screen—a custom-modified stealth interface—flickered to life before Shen Xingluo. Countless data streams cascaded down like a waterfall, the ghostly blue light illuminating her cold, sharp features, creating a stark contrast with the dim classroom.

Seeing the faint, mocking smile on Shen Xingluo’s lips, Principal Chen’s rage boiled over like a cornered viper. He sneered, accusing her of using a plug-in chip to transmit answers, demanding the device be seized and her eligibility revoked. His logic was simple and brutal: a bottom-tier student couldn't solve these problems, so cheating was the only explanation.

This arrogance was rooted in his deep-seated entitlement; to him, Shen Xingluo’s rise was a direct provocation to the established order.

Shen Xingluo stood up slowly, her movements graceful and deliberate. She didn't look at Principal Chen, but rather at the row of seemingly ordinary security cameras behind him.

Infinite Deduction Vision activated in her mind. As she stared for more than three seconds, the complex optical structures and circuit layouts of the cameras instantly dismantled into transparent logic diagrams, spinning in her consciousness. She saw the blind spots hidden in the corners, and she saw the tangled web of interests behind Principal Chen’s accusations, tight and inescapable.

"You say I used a chip?" Shen Xingluo raised her eyes, her gaze so clear it was unsettling, as if she could see the filth at the bottom of a person's soul. She looked at the data stream Gu Yan had sent, a corner of her mouth lifting—the look of a hunter who had finally cornered her prey. Gu Yan’s voice rang out again, calm and oppressive, cutting through the tension in the room and vibrating directly against the auditory nerves of everyone present.

"Surveillance data shows that for the past forty minutes, Shen Xingluo’s bio-electric signals remained stable, with no external high-frequency interference." Gu Yan’s voice was icy, broadcasted through the live feed for everyone to hear, sharp as a blade. He paused, adding with irrefutable authority:

"More importantly, her problem-solving speed has surpassed the physical limits of human neural conduction." The statement hit Principal Chen like a hammer, making him stagger. The students began to whisper, their disdain turning to shock. Some leaned in to discuss the impossible speed, the air thick with a mixture of suspicion and awe.

Principal Chen’s face was ashen, veins bulging at his temples. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, drawing beads of blood. He barked an order, his voice cracking with agitation as he scrambled to maintain his crumbling authority.

“That data is forged!” He turned to the security guards, roaring, “Seize whatever she’s holding!” The guards stepped forward, their movements heavy, but this time Shen Xingluo didn’t flinch. Her gaze remained as calm and still as a stagnant well.

She raised her hand, her fingertips lightly tapping the holographic screen on the desk. The image zoomed in instantly, freezing on a corner of the surveillance footage where key information was hidden within the interplay of light and shadow. Shen Xingluo called out softly, “Professor Lin?”

Although Professor Lin wasn’t physically present, her words seemed to invoke the will of the top-tier physicist, a gesture of both tribute and leverage. She pointed to the shadowed area obscured by sunlight, her voice steady and composed.

“The third surveillance camera had an overexposure issue between 2:15 and 2:20 PM due to direct sunlight, resulting in a white-out. That is the only blind spot.”

Shen Xingluo’s voice was level, her logic airtight. Every word hit like a nail driven into Principal Chen’s eardrums. She used the blind spot she’d deduced to prove she had been resting during that interval, not solving the problems—a logic chain as rigid as steel.

“In other words,” Shen Xingluo turned to Principal Chen, her gaze sharp as a blade, piercing straight into his eyes, “if I were cheating in that blind spot, then who was outside my line of sight, transmitting the answers to me?”

The question stopped the Principal’s bluster dead in its tracks, as if an invisible hand had clamped around his throat. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The air in the room seemed to solidify; a bizarre silence descended upon the exam hall, so thick that even the dust motes hung suspended in the shafts of light.

Principal Chen tried to regain his composure, reaching out to forcibly confiscate the answer sheet. His fingers, white-knuckled with effort, trembled as they neared the paper filled with genius-level insights. Shen Xingluo merely offered a faint smile. She didn’t stop him; instead, she pointed toward the official livestream indicator hanging at the front of the classroom. Its red light blinked like a watchful eye. She spoke, each word cold and deliberate.

“According to Article 17 of the Academic Integrity Regulations, the complete recording of the examination process must be broadcast publicly. Any unauthorized tampering will trigger a top-level academic warning.”

Shen Xingluo’s voice wasn’t loud, but every syllable carried weight. “And currently, your actions are being broadcast across the entire school and the entire province.” The statement hit like a thunderclap. Principal Chen whipped around, his face turning ghostly pale, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He realized that every move he made was exposed to countless eyes, with nowhere to hide.

Shen Xingluo continued her demonstration, pulling up the Intellect Points exchange logs. Data danced across the holographic screen, clearly showing that the dedicated Computing Chip was used only for post-exam verification, not as a crutch for solving. She explained, her tone peaceful yet firm: “The chip was activated at 3:45 PM, by which time I had already completed all core derivations.”

The evidence was ironclad, beyond dispute. Gu Yan’s voice cut in again, cold as frost, as he threw out historical data regarding the Principal’s favoritism toward wealthy students, exposing his true motive for covering up academic fraud. The records on the screen struck like daggers at his hypocrisy.

Principal Chen, his bravado shattered by the mounting evidence, was forced to retract the cheating accusation. His legs went weak, and he nearly collapsed. His eyes darted around, cold sweat soaking through his shirt, clinging to his skin like ice. The atmosphere in the exam hall plunged to freezing; even the sound of breathing was audible, the air thick with a complex mix of repression and release.

Shen Xingluo looked at him coldly, without a hint of mockery—only pure indifference, as if she were looking at a speck of dust that didn’t matter.

“Now,” Shen Xingluo let her intensity fade, her voice returning to its initial calm, like the surface of the sea after a storm, “I demand that my results be sent directly to the Provincial Evaluation System, bypassing the school’s review.”

She used the professional terminology, clearly signaling her resolve to bypass the Principal’s control. Every syllable drew an inviolable boundary. Principal Chen gritted his teeth, but he had no strength left to argue. He slumped into his chair, his back straight but hollow, as if he had aged ten years in an instant, his mental pillar completely collapsed.

The alarm stopped, and the exam hall returned to silence. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting mottled shadows across the desks. Shen Xingluo sat down and picked up her pen again. The tip scratched against the paper, a soft sound as if everything that had just happened were merely a false alarm.

Outside the hall, within the network signals of Jiang City, the provincial leaderboard was refreshing. Data surged like a flood, and countless expectant and shocked eyes focused on this very moment.

“First place: Shen Xingluo.” Those three words, like a boulder dropped into a calm lake, stirred up a massive, unending wave across every academic circle, every elite household, and every top-tier institution in Jiang City. Shen Xingluo looked out the window. The sun was still blindingly bright, but the storm in her heart had finally subsided, leaving behind only an endless expanse of the unknown.