bestfiction Chapter 91 Custom-Made Weapons
Chapter 91 Custom-Made Weapons
On an anonymous forum, a post is being pushed to the top of the trending list at an alarming rate.
The post's title was extremely eye-catching:
I confess my sin of blasphemy.
The original poster's writing is very plain, yet it conveys a sense of acceptance after resignation:
Actually, at the moment when they handed out the curls in the exam hall, I still harbored a sliver of arrogant and presumptuous thoughts:
What if I accidentally perform exceptionally well and surpass the legendary "Duck God" in performance? How will I handle all of this?
For a moment, my conscience even felt a ridiculous sense of guilt for this deity.
But when I saw the final report card, I finally understood.
That wasn't a score at all; it was a dimensional reduction attack by a higher-dimensional being on a water paramecium!
I feel much more at ease now, and I even feel like I can breathe much more easily.
Looks like I can continue being a guilt-free good-for-nothing from now on!
Below the post, replies flooded in like a waterfall, the screen filled with the bittersweet humor of academic high-achievers whose faith had crumbled.
—No way, your ant-like attempt to shake a tree is just too damn cute, hahaha! Who gave you the courage? Fish Leong?
—Can't we even dream? To be honest, before we came here, weren't we all number one, standing above everyone else? (Macho man in tears.jpg)
—I second that. Before the exam, I thought I was there to compete; after the exam, I realized I was just there to make up the numbers. I never imagined I'd get such a score that even a dog would shake its head at!
—This math and science exam was basically created by one group of lunatics for another group of lunatics. Getting a perfect score on it doesn't make me jealous anymore; it just makes me feel like this world is unreal!
—Although there had been some speculation before, the true identity of the Duck God is actually… mmm! (Forced to cover her mouth and dragged away)
—Hey everyone upstairs, shut your mouths! That big shot is really shy...
After the results were forced to be made public, this strange trend of "worshiping the gods" inevitably blew into Su Hao's originally peaceful life and even caused some minor ripples.
Good morning, Su Hao!
In the early morning corridor, a student from the next class passed by, waving vigorously at Su Hao with a smile, as if looking up to a great man.
"Hello." Su Hao nodded slightly.
This morning alone, this was the fifth time he had been forced to attend such a "head-of-state level meeting".
After the results were forced to be made public, the number of people who took the initiative to curry favor with him increased exponentially.
Most of the faces were from other classes in the same grade, but occasionally, a few upperclassmen who had never met before would suddenly appear.
Su Hao has an excellent memory; he has already memorized the names of all his classmates in the first grade. But now, he is lost in thought and troubled:
Could it be that, in order to maintain basic politeness, he also has to memorize the entire list of second- and third-year students?
In addition, those teachers who were usually arrogant and aloof started calling on him repeatedly in class.
The look in his eyes wasn't like he was looking at a student; it was more like he was looking at some kind of walking Nobel Prize candidate.
The fanatics in the school newspaper's editorial department even blocked the door, trying to pry out "the genius's daily life" from him.
However, none of this worldly clamor could stir up the slightest ripple in Su Hao's eyes.
He was neither complacent nor arrogant, but continued to follow his own path step by step, as if the noise from the outside world couldn't even stir a corner of his clothes.
On a weekday afternoon, the sunlight was lazy.
As usual, Su Hao carried his schoolbag and stepped into the school library.
Although the exams have just ended, and it should be a time for everyone to let loose and have fun, the library, which is occupied by exam kings, is still packed with people.
The rustling sound of people engrossed in their studies blended together, creating a suffocating atmosphere.
However, something strange happened.
Not long ago, the "feng shui throne" on the third floor, by the window, with the best view and Su Hao's favorite spot, has been mysteriously empty.
Even when the area around the table was packed with people, an invisible barrier seemed to form within half a meter around it, preventing anyone from getting close.
This is the highest level of respect that the top students in the entire building spontaneously offered to the "Duck God"—offering a throne to the deity!
However, Su Hao himself was completely unaware of this.
He glanced at the empty seat, secretly rejoicing for a second. Haha, my luck has been damn good these past few days!
I pulled out a chair, put down my backpack, and opened the notebook filled with formulas.
He then turned and went into the archives to look for books.
In the eyes of the librarian, Su Hao was a notorious "book-chasing maniac".
His logic is extremely simple and crude:
Do you not have the book I need? Then I'll submit a purchase request.
If I don't buy something every day, I'll fill it out every single day without fail, as stubborn as a debt collector.
The attitude was as if they were forcing the school to move the entire library of the National Academy of Sciences over.
Computation Theory
Su Hao, carrying the thick, brick-like book, strode back to his seat.
This book is one of the carefully chosen entry points he used to break through the logical bottleneck of the "Four Color Theorem".
Don't be fooled by its title, which includes "computation," making it seem like a core concept in computer science that's causing programmers to lose their hair.
But Su Hao was well aware that, in essence, it was also an extremely important cornerstone branch of mathematics.
In his previous analysis, Su Hao astutely realized a fatal problem:
To prove the Four Color Theorem using traditional methods, the number of possible combinations to be calculated is simply too vast, enough to make any human brain boil.
The pioneers in academia have long proven that, like Appel and Haken:
With an almost clumsy, Foolish-Old Man Moving Mountains mentality, the plan was violently torn into countless unique configurations...
Then, the theorem was verified one by one using a computer, and it proved to be flawless.
But this is too ugly.
Moreover, it far exceeds the physical limits that humans can deduce using pen, paper, and logic.
Su Hao dislikes ugly things.
He wanted to precisely snipe that weak point with a single shot!
The ideas in his mind were extremely crazy:
If we can avoid that foolish exhaustive method and compress it to the extreme, turning it into a cleaner equivalent logic with fewer steps... perhaps we can carve out a ray of light in this impenetrable iron wall!
Computational theory studies precisely the "computational complexity" and "solution efficiency" of a problem.
It's like a weapon tailor-made for him!
The core toolkit of this theory is filled with tools that would make the average person dizzy just by looking at them:
Concepts such as automata, formal languages, and polynomial-time verification.
Su Hao's ambitions are now extremely high.
He hopes to use these interdisciplinary theoretical tools to perform a beautiful "transplantation," forcibly transforming the feasibility of graph coloring in topology into another, more efficient mathematical expression.
He wanted to smash the classification and exhaustive method that had been worshipped for half a century, and instead build a completely new set of judgment rules that belonged to him from the ruins!
In order to construct this dragon-slaying blade, he must now be like an extremely dry sponge, frantically absorbing these massive amounts of underlying theories.
The evening glow, heavy with a hazy yellow hue, streamed through the library's bright glass windows, casting shadows on the tabletops.
He propped himself up on his elbow with the book "Computation Theory," his sharp eyes fixed intently on every line of derivation he had written.
With a pitiful pencil in his right hand, he was rapidly calculating on the draft paper at a speed that almost sparked.
However, halfway through the calculation, his pen suddenly stopped.
The paper even had a glaring white mark on it.
The mathematical model we just tried to build did indeed demonstrate a high degree of feasibility in low-dimensional tests.
However, when he tried to extrapolate this set of rules to more complex stages in higher dimensions, the logical link ahead suddenly broke down like a broken string, as if he were lost in the clouds.
He frowned.
"It seems that readily available theoretical tools are still not enough."
Su Hao muttered to himself, completely forgetting the passage of time in the real world.
Like a tireless Sisyphus, he overturned and rebuilt again and again, trying to reconnect the broken theoretical thread.
......
Meanwhile, on the other side of the campus, Han Dong was on the verge of exploding.
She looked down at her Patek Philippe watch with a cold expression.
Each cold tick of the second hand seemed to mock her mercilessly.
The agreed time has passed, a full ten minutes!
Han Dong was so angry that she laughed. She simply couldn't believe that anyone in this world would dare to leave her here waiting in the cold wind!
From birth to now, in these proud years, the word "wait" has never existed in Han Dong's dictionary.
No matter who it is, the other party who keeps the appointment is always the one who arrives early and waits humbly.
Of course, being a woman of exceptionally high manners, she would never allow herself to be late.
An unnamed fire, powerful enough to set the entire music room ablaze, shot up my spine and straight to my head.
In the end, she gritted her teeth, took out her phone, and sent a WeChat message.
As a result, it was like a stone sinking into the sea; the news seemed to have been swallowed up by a black hole, leaving no trace.
"beep--"
She dialed the number.
"The number you dialed is currently switched off. Please try again later."
A cold, mechanical female voice echoed in my ears.
Han Dong gripped the poor phone tightly, the veins on the back of his hand bulging, his knuckles trembling violently with extreme anger.
"Damn it! That bastard!" Han Dong cursed through gritted teeth.
"If I ever talk to you again, I'm a dog!"