He fiercely criticized the Manchu scholar clique and the twelve emperors of the Qing Dynasty.

"Gentlemen, listen to me!"

As soon as those six words were uttered, even the sound of air flowing in the huge lecture hall seemed to stop. Everyone unconsciously straightened their backs and fixed their gazes on Zhao Shuyao, who was standing in the middle of the aisle.

Zhao Shuyao brought the microphone close to his mouth, his speech becoming extremely calm, without a trace of hysteria, yet carrying a sharpness unique to intellectuals, capable of cutting people to pieces.

"I originally thought that as a senior figure in academia, you would be impartial and wouldn't dare to speak so rudely!"

"When the Manchus entered the Central Plains, they massacred cities for thousands of miles, including the Yangzhou Massacre and the Jiading Massacre. They forced people to shave their heads and change their clothes, closed the country to the outside world, and suppressed thought, causing China to sink into a century of decline. These crimes are known to all!"

"You, Yan Chongnian, as a descendant of the Manchus, instead of facing the transgressions of your ancestors, you distort the truth, deliberately whitewash tyranny, willingly cheer for the remnants of the Manchus, and confuse history. You have absolutely no conscience as a historian!"

"You white-haired scoundrel, you old thief with a gray beard! Even if you are a descendant of the Manchus, how can you face the world after death for distorting history and deceiving the people like this!"

He tilted his head slightly, feigning utter confusion: "If I were you, unable to even distinguish between 'marriage exchange' and 'large-scale construction,' I would have already sought a secluded place to reflect on my actions. How could I possibly have the audacity to stand here and spout nonsense in front of us, the youth of this new era?"

Quiet.

An extremely long and oppressive silence.

At that moment, the brains of more than 500 students entered a state of high-speed information processing. They first savored the phrase "invisible braid," and then an uncontrollable sense of pleasure rushed from their tailbone straight to the top of their heads.

"Pfft—"

In the third row from the left, the girl with shoulder-length short hair couldn't hold back and covered her mouth to laugh out loud. This soft laugh was like a fuse, instantly igniting the emotional powder keg of the entire lecture hall.

"Holy crap, that's amazing..."

Someone in the back row shouted something, and then thunderous applause erupted. The boy with half-rimmed glasses in the front row who had previously used his notes to refute Zhao Shuyao threw his notebook on the table and slammed his hands together, his face full of excitement.

They don't need those pretentious historical records to memorize; what they need is this kind of satisfying, modern-sounding experience that can truly tear apart the hypocritical mask of the feudal privileged class.

Amidst the tidal wave of applause and cheers, the fear of academic authority that had been weighing on the hearts of the young students was utterly shattered.

Zhao Shuyao didn't look at the bustling surroundings, but turned his gaze back to the podium.

Yan Chongnian remained seated, looking at the students below the stage who had once worshipped him but were now cheering for a junior, his ears ringing.

He opened his mouth, his withered lips trembling violently, and pointed his right index finger firmly in Zhao Shuyao's direction.

"You...you..." Yan Chongnian gasped for breath, trying to recall his decades of academic vocabulary to refute, but found his mind blank and all the blood rushing to his head.

Zhao Shuyao looked at his face, which had turned from purplish-red to deathly pale, and gave him no chance to organize his thoughts.

"Professor Yan, you see, everyone is still very enthusiastic about discussing this period of history." Zhao Shuyao nodded politely. "Do you think my analysis just now made sense? It's getting late for the lecture, so let's end our discussion here. If you have any further questions after you've sorted out your thoughts, you're welcome to come to the history department's graduate student dormitory anytime."

After saying these hurtful words, Zhao Shuyao walked to the desk in the first row, bent down, and placed the microphone in his hand on the table. There was not a single electrical noise.

He turned around, took a step, and walked towards the back door of the lecture hall. His steps were even, and his back looked unusually relaxed under the gaze of hundreds of people.

"Professor Yan, Professor Yan, what's wrong!"

Just as Zhao Shuyao opened the heavy door of the lecture hall, a startled exclamation suddenly came from behind him, uttered in a different tone.

Stop and turn around.

My gaze passed through the students who had stood up and landed behind the podium. The academic giant, who was over eighty years old, had completely lost his support and slid off the large leather chair with a "thud," half of his body falling off the podium.

The surrounding area instantly descended into chaos.

"Call 120 immediately!"

"Professor Yan has fainted! Everyone, move aside and make room for ventilation!"

A cacophony of anxious shouts filled the air as the student council member frantically tried to pinch Yan Chongnian's philtrum, while several graduate school applicants in the front row also rushed over in a panic.

As Zhao Shuyao watched this scene, the smile on his lips slowly widened. Without pausing, he turned around, pushed open the door, and stepped into the cool evening breeze of March.

As Zhao Shuyao walked along the tree-lined path on campus, he snorted coldly to himself.

I'm so angry I'm dizzy; this is nothing compared to what's to come.

Looking up at the sky, he thought back to his past life. It was this group of bastards who controlled the academic discourse who used all sorts of connections to jointly suppress his papers, cut off his employment opportunities, and force him, a talented historian, to spend half his life frustrated and unfulfilled.

You've reaped the benefits of this era, made a fortune, and now in your old age you want to enjoy the glory of being a titan—why? These few words of greeting today, devoid of even a swear word, are just a way to collect some interest.

The real show is yet to come to eradicate these academic cancers.

Of all things under heaven, eating is the most important.

Zhao Shuyao strolled out of the school gate, turned into the bustling snack street next door with ease, found his usual Lao Wang fried noodles stall, and pulled out a chair to sit down.

"Uncle Wang, a large portion of stir-fried noodles with shredded pork, extra chili."

"Alright, Xiao Zhao, you didn't eat at the school cafeteria today?" the owner replied familiarly, the spatula clanging against the iron pot.

Zhao Shuyao pulled out a napkin and slowly wiped the oil stains on the table. Just then, his phone in his pocket vibrated rapidly.

When I took it out, my roommate Yang Wei's name was flashing on the screen.

Answer the call, turn on speakerphone, and toss the phone onto the table.

"Old Zhao, where are you!" Yang Wei's voice boomed from the receiver, with the piercing siren of an ambulance in the background, indicating that he was still near the lecture building.

Zhao Shuyao leaned back in his chair, his tone relaxed: "I'm at the snack street behind the school. What's up, Wei-ge? Calling now because you want me to order you some fried noodles?"

"I'll eat your fried noodles, you son of a bitch!" Yang Wei shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. "You still have the nerve to eat? Do you know the mess you've made? The ambulance just drove right up to the teaching building and carried Yan Chongnian away on a stretcher. The paramedics said the old man's blood pressure spiked to over 120, and he almost didn't make it!"

Zhao Shuyao took the tea offered by the boss and took a sip: "Oh, then his physical condition is indeed not good. It would be better if he went out less in the future."

"Can't you wake up?!" Yang Wei was jumping up and down in a panic on the other end of the line. "You've angered him so much that he's in the hospital! How are you going to explain this to the hospital leaders tomorrow morning? This is a famous professor who's been on TV! Do you know how powerful his connections are in that field? Your soon-to-be-confirmed teaching position at the university is 100% gone!"

Listening to his roommate's barrage of questions, Zhao Shuyao wasn't angry. He knew Yang Wei's intentions were good. This was the most basic survival logic of a child from an ordinary family: fear of offending the powerful and fear of losing hard-won job opportunities.

"Viagra," Zhao Shuyao softened his tone, a hint of teasing in his smile, "Don't get agitated. Think back to the whole thing. Did I swear at him once from beginning to end?"

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

"I didn't even call him 'old man,' I addressed him with 'you' the whole time." Zhao Shuyao tapped the rim of his bowl with his chopsticks. "We were having a very formal academic discussion. I asked him a question, he didn't answer, and then he had a bad temper and fainted. Even if this matter goes to the Ministry of Education, I'm still a good student who humbly seeks knowledge. How can you blame me?"

Yang Wei was speechless for a long time after being choked by this logic. After a while, he weakly wailed, "Brother, you call that academic discussion? You've stripped the face of someone's ancestors for eighteen generations and trampled it on the ground. You even gave the emperor in their heart a Han dynasty official as a stepfather. You call that seeking advice? You're committing mental murder!"

Zhao Shuyao couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Alright, stop worrying about me." Zhao Shuyao's smile faded, and his tone revealed a reassuring certainty in Yang Wei. "If the spot for staying at the school is gone, so be it. I'm not really interested in that lifeless place anyway. Don't worry, I won't starve. If all else fails, I'll definitely take you with me when I go to the overpass to get phone screen protectors installed. I guarantee I'll make you the second boss."

Yang Wei sighed deeply, his tone softening: "I'm just worried you'll suffer. Your advisor just got angry in the group chat and told you to go to his office right away. Take my advice, go and humble yourself, admit your mistake. After all, your advisor values ​​you a lot. Let him mediate; maybe things will turn around."

"I won't go." Zhao Shuyao refused directly, looking at the steaming hot fried noodles that had just been served, breaking apart the disposable chopsticks, "I did nothing wrong, why should I bow my head? Don't worry about this, go back to your dormitory and rest. If the college comes to you to find out what happened, just say you were asleep at the time and didn't know anything, don't drag me into this."

Yang Wei was silent for a few seconds, then muttered, "What kind of person do you take me for? I'm not so afraid to even say a word. Are you going back to your dorm tonight?"

"Eat and go back. Even if the sky falls, you have to eat your fill first."

After hanging up the phone, Zhao Shuyao ate his fried noodles with gusto, but his mind was still racing.

The date was April 2016.

This is an extremely special juncture. Smartphones have become ubiquitous, and 4G networks cover every street and alley in the city. However, traditional print media, television programs, and lectures are still firmly controlled by those old academic cliques.

However, on another level, the era of text and images on the mobile internet is rapidly transitioning into the era of short videos, and a brand-new, decentralized self-media trend is taking shape.

Zhao Shuyao put down his chopsticks, took out his slightly worn Huawei Mate 4 from his pocket, and opened the app with the red icon—Toutiao.

Once the interface finished loading, he habitually pulled down to refresh.

Less than a second later, the first recommended item on the homepage made his pupils shrink slightly.

That wasn't a picture or text, but a video. The video's cover was a somewhat blurry screenshot, with the background being the same lecture hall from earlier, and the person standing in the center of the frame was himself, holding a microphone.

The video's title is extremely eye-catching, carrying a strong flavor of internet viral content:

"A hardcore graduate student from Southeast University publicly criticizes a renowned lecturer from the 'Lecture Room' program – this is the true history we want to hear!"

Zhao Shuyao clicked on the video. The screen was slightly shaky, obviously filmed by a student in the front row with their phone. The progress bar was right at the part where he was talking about "marriage exchange" and "large-scale construction". The sound quality was average, but his extremely oppressive and mocking tone was still very clear.

Looking at the data, the video had already garnered over 100,000 views in just over half an hour after its release, with thousands of comments below.

"Holy crap, who is this guy? His logic is unbelievable!"

"I've disliked that Professor Yan for a long time. He's always bragging about the Qing Dynasty. Today, he's finally met his match!"

"It's a shame this person isn't a stand-up comedian! I want the complete series!"

Zhao Shuyao scrolled through the screen, looking at the barrage of "agree" comments, a confident smile playing on his lips.

Academic backlash, pressure from professors, and the cancellation of degrees?

Faced with the sheer volume of traffic in this era, those outdated sanctions are as laughable as trying to stop a high-speed train with swords and spears.

Yan Chongnian and his group are still living in the old era where a few titles can give you absolute power, while Zhao Shuyao possesses a level of understanding that is several years ahead of this era.

Since you're forming cliques in academia, I'll completely overturn your chessboard and establish a new set of rules in this public square for hundreds of millions of people.

Without hesitation, Zhao Shuyao clicked on his personal center on Toutiao and found the "Real-name Authentication" entry.

Take a photo and upload your ID card.

He paused for a moment in the personal profile section, then quickly typed a line on the screen:

"A layman from the History Department of Northeastern University, specializing in exposing all kinds of unofficial histories and taking you to expose the truth behind pseudo-history."

Click to submit for review. From today onwards, this will be his main battleground for tearing apart that corrupt circle.