A genius student? Ha, they're nothing but ants at your feet!

"Damn it!"

All attempts failed.

Theodore slumped back into his chair, utterly defeated.

He clutched his head, which felt like it was about to explode, with both hands in agony, his fingernails digging deep into his scalp.

The immense sense of oppression and suffocation accumulating in his chest felt like a tangible hammer, about to shatter his ribs from the inside out!

He suddenly raised his head, his eyes filled with a frenzied, bloodshot look.

The only physical clue left is the last and most primitive one.

The only institution prefix filled in on the other party's information card is MIT.

MIT!

"Looks like I'll have to fly there myself and storm their doorstep..."

Theodore sprang up from his chair.

Whoosh!

He yanked open the drawer and pulled out a wallet stuffed with cash and credit cards.

He roughly folded the top-of-the-line laptop and stuffed it into his backpack without even looking at it.

He quickly took stock of his combat equipment: charger, pen, and a thick stack of calculation drafts filled with equations.

He then carefully placed the printed screenshots of the leaderboard and the points deduction logs into a transparent folder.

Swish.

He yanked open the wardrobe door.

The weather in California wasn't cold yet, but he didn't even look at the weather before casually throwing on a thin trench coat and rushing outside.

The moment he rushed out of the dormitory, he had already automatically generated the optimal transportation route from Stanford to the airport, transfer, and landing in Boston in his mind.

He was calculating as he ran.

If I can get to the airport within twenty minutes and catch that most agonizing red-eye flight, I can cross the American continent and land directly in Massachusetts by dawn tomorrow!

It stems from the last remaining trace of meticulousness inherent in students from prestigious universities.

In the taxi, he took out his phone and, with trembling fingers, forcibly suppressed his agitated emotions, sent a highly official "Inter-University Academic Visit Notification Email" to the MIT Mathematics Department's official email address.

A tiny probability model flashed through his mind:

What if I travel thousands of miles to get there, only to find that guy named Su Hao isn't at school, and I end up crossing half of America only to find nothing, without even getting a glimpse of him?

But he extinguished the thought after only half a second.

Screw the uncertainties!

Theodore's mental threshold is currently at the red line, on the verge of complete collapse.

If no substantial and extreme physical action is taken immediately, and this pent-up frustration is allowed to fester, he will definitely be driven to a mad idiot!

......

Rumbling--

After a long, tedious flight of six hours in a cramped and confined cabin, feeling like being in prison.

The Boeing aircraft's tires finally landed heavily on the runway of Boston Logan International Airport.

"Damn... This place is even colder than the weather forecast said!"

As soon as I stepped out of the automatic glass doors of the terminal building.

Theodore shivered violently from the cold, clutching the collar of his useless overcoat tightly with both hands, hunching his shoulders, and practically tumbling as he ran towards the taxi stand.

The chilly winds of Boston at dawn don't listen to reason.

It was like countless invisible, sharp razors, relentlessly cutting through his exposed skin.

squeak--

He impatiently opened the car door and crawled into a taxi with the heater on, like a frozen eel.

"Go to MIT."

The vehicle roared into the city.

Outside the car window, a series of unfamiliar East Coast buildings, constructed of steel and concrete, unfolded rapidly before my eyes like a slideshow, conveying a sense of coldness and oppression.

The contrast is too great.

Boston's air is so cold and awful, it feels like it can freeze you to the bone.

The stark contrast with California's perpetually sunny and warm West Coast climate created an intense and unsettling sense of physical separation.

Looking up, the sky was filled with thick, leaden-gray clouds, so gloomy and low that they seemed about to crash down at any moment. The city seemed to harbor a strong, repulsive hostility towards every outsider.

"Oh shit……"

Theodore rubbed his frozen hands.

"In this damn harsh physical environment, there really is no other choice for entertainment except to hide in a heated room and work on academics."

The old air conditioner in the car finally started providing heating.

Theodore's almost frozen body temperature finally began to rise little by little.

A belated logical reflection began to take over my mind.

He stared blankly at the transparent folder on his lap.

He began to uncontrollably question his absurd behavior.

He bought a ticket overnight, abandoned all important laboratory projects, and flew for a full six hours across the entire North American continent...

Could it be that he just wanted to rush in front of the other person like an idiot?

And then solemnly request a ridiculous permission to "please allow me to deliberately answer a question wrong in the system to ensure a fair duel"?!

Am I sick?!

Do not!

Absolutely not!

Theodore took a deep breath, his eyes brighter than ever before.

That ridiculous ranking dispute on the LOGIA leaderboard is nothing but a pretext!

The real underlying motivation that drove him to rush to Boston was something deep down.

It's far more than just a superficial ranking list!

The image of a thesis uncontrollably surfaced in his mind.

When Su Hao first read his paper on the "Four Color Theorem," this self-proclaimed genius, a once-in-a-century talent from Stanford, suffered a devastating blow!

His proud academic understanding shattered into pieces at that moment, beyond repair!

The paper's extremely grand and meticulous proof structure is so perfect that it is impeccable, enough to make a group of senior academicians kneel down and kiss the manuscript.

But what truly terrified Theodore, even filled him with dread, was not the outcome.

Rather, it is the long and lonely derivation process hidden behind those cold formulas, which lasted for several years and was like drifting alone in the dark universe.

Nine years of academic desert!

In absolute darkness, without any peer interaction or external recognition!

How did that man endure that kind of loneliness that could drive a person mad? What kind of superhuman willpower did he possess...?

How can such terrifying computing power not only not decline, but instead grow stronger, until finally, one can pluck the fruit of truth with bare hands?

Theodore closed his eyes bitterly.

Compared to Su Hao's godlike achievements, Theodore reflected on his own situation.

The master's thesis he is currently working on has actually been mired in serious stagnation and self-doubt.

Those were problems he originally thought he could solve by simply drinking a couple more cups of coffee and relying on his genius computing power.

After truly delving into that bizarre topological structure.

He realized with despair that it was not a problem he could solve; it was an insurmountable wall of sighs standing in front of him!

and so……

Did she come all this way from so far away just to humbly seek academic guidance from that man?

No.

He categorically rejected this hypothesis.

Strip away all the bluster and anger, strip away all the complicated pretenses about rankings and pride.

All that remains is the purest, most primal desire.

He, Theodore Langford, was like a thirsty desert traveler who had just seen an oasis, desperately and frantically wanting to see it for himself.

Su Hao...

That monster, in this era, hangs like a dazzling sun above the heads of all mathematical geniuses.

What kind of person is he exactly?