Chapter 10: Forced Breakthrough
Chapter 10: Forced Breakthrough
Why cheat when he could rely on his own ability?
On that day, Bai Ge did nothing else but frantically absorb knowledge.
Originally, he had been no top student, wasting several years of his life. Now, asking him to take the college entrance exam made it hard just to pass the undergraduate cutoff score.
But with a Brain Hole, that ceased to be a problem.
Any piece of Information from Reality, once placed in the Brain Hole World, became the most cutting-edge knowledge.
Just like how Taiji Quan became an Immortal technique within his Brain Hole.
But as the Absolute Sovereign of this Brain Hole, the difficulty for Bai Ge to learn a mediocre martial art skill or an Immortal divine technique was exactly equal within his own dimension.
No matter how “divine” it was, he mastered it instantly.
The same applied to mathematics, physics, and chemistry.
Not only did he memorize all of Zhuang Ze’s textbooks, but he also surfed online to download various materials.
“I’ve memorized everything in the textbooks and all the review materials, but relying solely on these isn’t enough. I took money so I need to honor the deal!”
Bai Ge took the money and dashed straight to Xinhua Bookstore.
With the Brain Hole absorbing knowledge, his learning speed was shockingly fast.
Previously, even thinking about studying made him dizzy; now he wore an excited expression.
After all, seeking knowledge is a Human instinct; if learning came easily, undoubtedly everyone would love it.
Thus, he began buying frenziedly at the store, purchasing not just math, physics, and chemistry books, but also a huge pile covering philosophy, logic studies, psychology, economics, history, and related fields.
From the first to the third floor of the store, he filled an entire cart with books.
Observing bystanders felt their scalps tingling, while sales assistants were elated.
He stacked book after book, set by set into the cart in bulk.
He wasn’t buying books; he was sweeping the shelves.
Later, many spectators sneered, whispering to themselves: Was he a maniac? What use were so many books? Were they meant to decorate his bookshelf as shallow showpieces?
Bai Ge ignored all these strange looks.
He wasn’t buying just any books, selecting only authoritative, textbook-style works with obscure, complex, and professional content.
Books labeled “popular science” or “entertainment” were avoided entirely.
Completing those would just make him an armchair theorist.
The total tally upon checkout was one hundred sixty thousand yuan.
Even with that, he had only captured a corner of the Human knowledge ocean. Many advanced specialized subjects weren’t published—books about them were unavailable in stores.
“This should suffice for now; I’ll handle the rest later. Even if I finish just these, I’ll at least become an expert professor.”
Though Bai Ge felt the pinch, he recognized that knowledge was priceless and endlessly beneficial. Gritting his teeth, he paid with the card Zhuang Ze had given him.
In that moment, Zhuang Ze’s deposit had dwindled to a mere forty thousand yuan left.
For spending so lavishly, the store directly helped him load the books onto a truck for home delivery.
At home, he unwrapped the packages. Inhaling the scent of ink, Bai Ge smiled.
“Let’s begin!”
He grabbed a set of historical texts and brought them toward his head.
Bai Ge’s cranium transformed into a new Dimension, silently causing the entire book set to vanish.
Repeating this, hundreds of authoritative classics entered his Brain Hole.
“Information sharing.”
Once Ling Dang interpreted the Information documented in the books, the Brain Hole World immediately adapted and recorded it.
Instantly, Bai Ge felt countless previously unknown subjects churning through his mind.
When the world understood it, Bai Ge understood it.
Learning knowledge turned out to be astonishingly simple.
…
The day for the college entrance exams arrived. In just two short days, Bai Ge was erudite beyond measure.
With a confident smile, he transformed into Zhuang Ze’s appearance, donned the school uniform, and rushed to the exam hall.
At that moment, he could not only ace the college entrance exam but even breeze through a master’s degree.
For Mathematics, physics, chemistry, and languages, he had trained specifically—mastering English completely at minimum.
He resembled an expert who had studied those disciplines for decades. Theory-wise, without practical application needed already, he ranked alongside professors.
His practical research might lack depth, but for exam purposes, he overflowed ability.
Carrying his exam admission ticket, he casually bought a set of exam stationery en route and went alone to take the test.
After the complex entry procedures, he finally got his exam papers.
Not wasting a second, he instantly began writing his responses.
Mandarin Chinese was the easiest part—with fixed answers for classical texts and poetic interpretations.
Bai Ge’s pen glided as if divinely inspired.
But the essay posed slight trouble since he had to write it himself.
Still, he wasn’t clueless; paired with his current erudition, his composition wouldn’t be subpar.
He’d experienced this exam once before—filled then with nervousness and frantic scribbling.
Now, reattempting it brought an utterly altered mindset.
Certainly, he remained the calmest person in the entire hall.
When he finished the examination paper, only half an hour had passed. Bai Ge didn’t hurry to submit it. He was taking someone else’s test; avoiding attention mattered more.
The day concluded with the Mathematics exam; the entire process unfolded smoothly—nobody doubted him.
The invigilators didn’t know him personally. Who realized Zhuang Ze usually ranked last, rarely studied?
Instead, an invigilator sneakily admired Bai Ge’s paper, watching it engrossedly.
On the second assessment day, an elderly invigilator continuously watched Bai Ge answer science comprehension questions.
He noticed Bai Ge’s problem-solving methods were exceptionally unorthodox.
Unlike typical senior high students; many problems weren’t approached through school-taught formulas.
“He employs only the simplest methods… Reads questions exceptionally fast… Such an agile mind…”
The old invigilator watched keenly. Once Bai Ge finished one question, he immediately started the next—barely pausing even to reread it.
Almost instantly after seeing a question, Bai Ge wrote his solution, skipping any apparent thought.
Even difficult problems received this treatment, convincing the elderly man that “Zhuang Ze” possessed rapid cognition and must be a top student drilled by thousands of exercises.
Only endless practice sets could cultivate such swift solution efficiency.
“This boy must’ve attempted thousands of practice papers…” thought the invigilator, preparing to move on.
Suddenly, his eyes widened—he turned back sharply.
“Huh?”
“Why is this boy considering Earth’s gravitational constant?”
“Eh? He adjusts for sound speed differences in atmosphere? Ten meters per second between zero Celsius and room temperature—an unnecessary complication for this question, son…”
The old invigilator froze upon seeing one theoretical application question.
The prompt mentioned sound speed at room temperature without specifying the environment.
This was merely an application exercise, yet Bai Ge accounted for variations in geographical location, climate—even factoring zero/subzero air temperatures that dramatically slow sound propagation.
Further micro variations occurred at different atmospheric pressures.
Thus, for one answer slot, Bai Ge listed multiple results calibrated to different sonic velocities.
Admittedly, extremely meticulous—excessively so for an exam not expecting multi-variate consideration.
“Though his answer set includes the standard one, he cannot be conventionally trained through intensive exercises.”
Countless practice-test takers wouldn’t invent such eccentric methods or obsessive precision—obsessing beyond the test paper itself seemed overly zealous.
It resembled Bai Ge treating it as a real-world physics dilemma more than an exam query.
Recognizing this, the old invigilator retracted his initial assumption abruptly, suspecting instead a student unfamiliar with contemporary high schooling.
“Is it… that his knowledge base overflows? He solves problems through sheer intellect rather than exam-targeted tactics.”
Observing this revelation, the elderly man stood rooted.
He stationed himself beside Bai Ge, continually observing his problem-solving flow.
His logic brimmed with philosophical elegance, consistently innovating awe-inspiring angles.
His comprehensiveness dazzled; the grandfather felt he witnessed not a student but a seasoned professor dismantling an elementary question from countless perspectives.
Next to Bai Ge’s responses, the questions themselves suddenly seemed childish, lacking depth—the elderly man never imagined such a revelation could strike during decades of exam supervision.
“How come I think this? These are senior high applications—they’re intended for simplicity.”
The grandfather chuckled wryly, admitting he’d never supervised such a dazzling candidate.
Outlooks, knowledge volumes, thinking angles, logic flows—all differed uniquely.
Could this truly be a high schooler?
Compared to exercise-obsessed memorization machines, this youth clearly sat higher—possessing a distinctive analytical lens liberated from textbook constraints or standardized frameworks.
The elder even suspected this boy rarely encountered similar questions.
This was brute-force intellectual conquest!
“He provides too many answers. Though the standard one is among them, a careless grader could mark him wrong.”
“Unacceptable. I must report this. This student transcends conventional thinking—that deserves recognition.”