The worse you are, the stronger you become: My summoned beast is a photographer.

"1972 points." The host's voice trembled as he announced the final score, "Puyee-Yale College, contestant Olga, with a score of 1972, is currently in first place in the liberal arts competition!"

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

1972 points. Out of a possible 2000 points, only 28 points were deducted. This score has never been seen before in the history of the humanities competition.

In the audience, the team leaders from each school flipped through their report cards, gasping in astonishment.

"How many points did Amos, who came in second, get?"

"Seven hundred and eighty-one points."

"A difference of over 1100 points? How...how can we catch up?"

Even if you get a perfect score in the third round, you still can't catch up.

The murmurs surged like a tide, engulfing the entire auditorium.

Amos sat in the contestant's seat, his golden mane still gleaming under the lights, but the composure he had displayed at the start of the competition was gone from his handsome face. His fingers gripped the score sheet, his knuckles white, and his thin lips were pressed into a thin line.

One thousand one hundred and ninety-one points.

This is the difference between him and Ming Luochen.

He painstakingly answered two rounds of questions, giving it his all, even using up five sheets of scratch paper, and finally only scored 781 points. Meanwhile, that other person took less than half the time and easily scored 1972 points.

The feeling wasn't like a race; it was like being crushed. It was like you were running your butt off while the other person just took a stroll and easily overtook you.

Morton's score was even worse, only 702. He gritted his teeth, his amber eyes filled with anger and resentment. But he didn't lash out—because he knew that in the face of absolute power, any anger was a sign of weakness.

Austin scored 765 points, while Lillian was eliminated by Ming Luochen and failed to reach the semi-finals, with her final score settling at 680 points.

The four semifinalists are: Olaf, Amos, Morton, and Austin.

The Royal Noble Academy took two spots, even though there should have been three as planned. But the fox girl who was highly anticipated didn't even make it into the top four.

The host stood on the stage, his voice amplified through a magic circle, broadcasting throughout the venue: "Congratulations to the four contestants for successfully advancing to the third round—the Liberal Arts Championship!"

Applause was sporadic, but there were more whispers from the audience.

"The third round is out of 1,500 points. If Amos gets all of them, his total score will be 2,281. Aura only needs 310 points to win."

"Three hundred and one point? Three creative writing questions, even a casual answer would get you more than three hundred points, right?"

"So... Amos has no chance anymore?"

"Unless Ola fails to score in the third round, or is disqualified."

He does not mean that.

Austin leaned back in his chair, his dark green vertical pupils slightly narrowed, and his snake tail swayed under the seat. The corners of his mouth still held that ambiguous smile, but something new appeared in his eyes—not anger, not resentment, but a kind of…calculation.

Ming Luochen stood up from his seat, stretched, and leaned close to Aura's ear, glancing at Amos and the others with undisguised boasting: "Wife, this competition is too easy."

squeak-

The sound of grinding teeth came from the first row. Amos glared at him through gritted teeth, his golden mane almost standing on end, his fingers gripping the pen so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Ming Luochen smiled at him, a smile so bright it was almost irritating.

"The third round of the finals consists of three essay questions, graded by a panel of five judges," the host continued, explaining the rules. "Each judge is awarded a maximum of 100 points, with a maximum of 500 points per question, for a total of 1,500 points. The questions are very difficult, and there are no standard answers. The first question is to write according to the requirements, the second is an artistic creation, and the third is a real-time policy discussion. It all comes down to innovation and the application of knowledge."

The host took the sealed question paper and opened it: "The first question is - Homeland."

Amos was calculating quickly in his mind.

He has 781 points, and Ming Luochen has 1972 points. Even if he gets a perfect score of 1500 in the third round, his total score will only be 2281. Ming Luochen only needs to score 310 more points to win.

Three hundred and one point. Three creative questions, five judges for each question, with a maximum score of five hundred points. Three hundred and one point, not even the passing grade.

In other words, as long as Ming Luochen performs normally, doesn't submit a blank paper, and doesn't go off-topic, the championship will be his.

unless……

Amos shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind. He didn't want to win that way.

"Can we begin?" Ming Luochen asked, raising his hand, his tone as casual as if he were asking, "Can we start eating now?"

"Okay." The host nodded.

Ming Luochen didn't pick up a pen. He stood up, walked to the front of the stage, and faced the audience. The spotlight shone on him, casting a long shadow.

Amos sneered – Not even picking up a pen, is he giving up?

Morton bared his teeth, thinking that this summoned beast had finally shown its weakness.

Austin's dark green vertical pupils narrowed slightly, and the half-smile on his lips remained, but a hint of wariness appeared in his eyes.

Ming Luochen took a deep breath and slowly opened his mouth.

He didn't recite any poetry. There was no "Alone in a foreign land, I am a stranger; on every festive occasion, I miss my family all the more," nor "The wind blows once, the snow falls once, shattering my homesick dreams; such sounds are not heard in my hometown." He felt that bringing out those words was too much of an insult.

He began to sing softly, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching the ears of everyone present:

If you have too many complaints about this world

Do n’t dare to go forward if you fall

Why do people have to be so fragile and depraved?

Please open your heart and see.

Countless people are bravely striving to keep going for their lives.

Shouldn't we be content?

Cherish everything, even if you don't possess it...

His voice wasn't particularly pleasant, and it was even a little off-key, but the melody—that melody from another world—was like a warm breeze that swept through the entire auditorium.

"Do you remember you saying home is the only castle?"

As the rice-scented river continues its journey

I know the dreams I had as a child.

Don't cry, let the fireflies carry you away.

Country folk songs are an eternal reliance

Let's go home, back to the beautiful beginnings...

The auditorium was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

There was no applause, no cheers, only that simple and warm melody echoing in the air.

On the judging panel, a white-haired goat-beastman professor took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Another owl-beastman judge, his feathers ruffled, stared blankly at Ming Luochen on the stage, as if recalling some distant past.

Benuna leaned back in her chair, her red hair cascading down her back. Her fingertips hovered on the armrest, not striking it. She narrowed her eyes slightly, and the half-smile on her lips finally blossomed into a genuine smile.

In the audience, someone was secretly wiping away tears. No one spoke; no one wanted to break the silence.

Those lyrics contain no sword fights, no grand pronouncements, only the simplest warmth—home is the only castle, the fragrance of rice paddies and rivers, and the folk songs of the countryside.

Amos sat in the contestants' seat, his pen having fallen onto the table at some point. His essay on "homeland" had just been: Pick up a knife to defend your homeland, fight for your parents and fiancée, fearless of sacrifice and hardship, go for it, long live!

Those words swirled in his mind, then he swallowed them back down.

He said he couldn't bring himself to say it.

It's not that I'm afraid, it's that I'm not worthy.

Morton lowered his head, his teeth clenched tightly, lost in thought. Austin's vertical pupils narrowed to slits, and the smile on his lips finally vanished.

"A work that is both evocative and uplifting." The host broke the silence first, his voice tinged with emotion. "Now, please, judges, give your scores."

The five judges exchanged a few words in hushed tones, and then revealed their scores one by one.

"Perfect score! Perfect score! Perfect score! Perfect score! Perfect score!"

The host's voice rose eight octaves: "All five judges have given the highest score! It seems that the champion of this year's liberal arts competition will be none other than Aura and Ming Luochen!" He was so excited that he almost dropped the microphone.

Thunderous applause erupted from the audience.

Amos closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. He knew he had lost. Not because of effort, not because of talent, but because of a foundation he had never seen before, a foundation from another world.

Ming Luochen returned to Aura's side, took her hand, and winked at her. Aura's eyes reddened slightly, and she gripped his hand tightly, silently whispering something only she could hear:

Honey, you're amazing.

"That's right." Ming Luochen felt a surge of joy in his heart.

However, at this moment—

"Distinguished judges, I have a report."

A cool voice rang out from the players' seats, like a knife cutting through the warm air.

Everyone looked up at the sound and saw Austin Carter, the human-headed, snake-bodied youth from the Royal Noble Academy. He slowly stood up, his dark green vertical pupils gleaming with an indescribable light.

"Aura cheated." He said, emphasizing each word. "These lyrics weren't written by her, nor by her summoned beast—they're a song from her homeland. That goes against the very essence of creation."

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

"Cheating? What do you mean?"

"The song of his hometown? That summoned beast from another world?"

"Isn't that plagiarism?"

The murmurs were like boiling water, bubbling and gurgling out.

Amos suddenly opened his eyes, looked at Austin, and frowned. He didn't speak, but a complex emotion flashed in his eyes—he knew Austin was telling the truth, but to report him… to report him now? He would have a chance to return to number one.

Morton froze, his teeth agape, unsure what to say.

Aura's expression changed instantly. She knew very well that Ming Luochen's rendition of "Rice Fragrance" was a song from his hometown. If it was deemed plagiarism, her score would be canceled, and she might even be banned from the competition.

Her palms were sweating, and she suddenly didn't know what to do.

Ming Luochen's smile froze. He looked at Austin, his pupils slightly contracting.

How did he know the songs of his hometown?

Could it be... that he is also a time traveler?

The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. Ming Luochen stared at Austin, trying to find a clue in that effeminate and cold face.

Austin met his gaze, and the ambiguous smile returned to the corners of his mouth.

"What? You guessed right?" His voice wasn't loud, but it was enough for the judges and audience in the front row to hear. "The song you sang wasn't even your own composition. Submitting a work that doesn't belong to this world to a humanities competition—what is that if not cheating?"

"This..." The host was also stunned and turned to look at the judges' panel.

The goat-orc professor frowned and adjusted his glasses: "Austin, you say this song doesn't belong to this world, what evidence do you have?"

Austin was speechless.

Fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead, his dark green vertical pupils trembled slightly, and the ambiguous smile on his lips finally disappeared completely.

What could he say?

He claims his summoned beasts can read minds? He says he eavesdropped on Aura and Ming Luochen's thoughts during the competition?

That would not only be a serious violation of the rules, but also a disrespect for the competition. If he were to speak out, his results would be canceled, the reputation of the Royal Noble High School would be damaged, and it could even implicate the entire school.

But if he doesn't say so, how can he prove that this song doesn't belong to this world?

Without evidence, his accusation is baseless.