The observation room of the main hall was shrouded in dim light. Several deep-purple figures stood before a massive, curved light curtain. The screen was divided into dozens of sections, each reflecting the scene of a freshman within an illusory shack.
Professor Roland stroked his ashen-white goatee and asked gruffly, “Edwin, what exactly is the core theme this time? Are we just going to watch them mediate family disputes?”
Edwin Soren stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the freshmen on the screens. He slowly shook his head.
“It is not mediation.” His voice sounded clear and cold in the silent room. “It is kindness.”
He raised a hand and pointed toward a screen showing a family of three shivering in a freezing, dilapidated shack.
“What they see as a family dispute has only one underlying cause: poverty. The firewood is almost gone, they are barely clothed, and midwinter has arrived. This is not a dispute that can be mediated; it is a predetermined dead end. According to the flow of the illusion, the next time these children visit, this family will have already frozen to death.”
He turned his face to look at Roland and the other professors, his eyes calm and devoid of emotion.
“What we want to see is their first reaction when faced with a tragedy that is destined to be beyond salvation. Is it futile sympathy? Is it a powerless attempt within the rules? Is it the indifference of turning away? Or is it… something else.”
The professors remained silent, their gazes shifting across the various screens. Most freshmen were attempting to question, comfort, or anxiously search for evidence that did not exist, their faces etched with a sense of helplessness.
Right then.
“Edwin,” Professor Eli suddenly spoke up, her finger pointing at one of the screens that had been enlarged in the center. Her eyes widened slightly behind her monocle. “Look at this one… what is he doing?”
***
Jiang Ming stepped through the door.
A wave of cold air mixed with the smell of mold blocked the entrance. It was even colder inside the house than outside, and the pile of wood in the corner was nothing but a bit of ashen, dead soot. A family of three was huddled in the innermost part of the room, wrapped in several layers of thin, transparent rags, their faces blue from the cold. The child was curled into a ball, so small he was almost invisible, motionless.
This family probably won’t survive the winter—the thought flashed through Jiang Ming’s mind.
When the parents saw him, they hurriedly scrambled up from the corner, forcing dry smiles onto their faces as they rubbed their hands and approached.
“Greetings, Lord Judge,” the man said in a raspy voice. The woman followed with a bow and scrape, and then… they ran out of words. The two of them stood there stiffly, eyes wandering, not knowing where to put their hands or feet.
Jiang Ming smiled at them, then turned to the tower-like Inquisitor beside him, his voice ringing clear.
“Lord Inquisitor, there is something I must clarify with you—it is currently the year 1968, and as for me,” he pointed to himself, “besides being a Judge, I am also a noble.”
In 1968, the judicial system of the Holy Moon Empire had not yet been reformed. If he remembered correctly, the Judges of this era were all nobles with titles.
The gaze beneath the Inquisitor’s armor seemed to glitch for a moment.
Without waiting for a reaction, Jiang Ming continued at a brisk pace.
“According to Chapter Three, Article Seven of the current ‘Nobility Privilege and Commoner Obligation Act,’ when a commoner meets a titled noble, they must at least bow and say ‘Respected Excellency’.”
He looked with a beaming smile at the couple, who were now completely bewildered.
“But you see, these two just said ‘Greetings, Lord Judge.’ They didn’t bend their waists, and their etiquette was lacking. Wouldn’t this count as… a small slight against noble dignity?”
The Inquisitor remained silent, seemingly processing this sudden invocation of an ancient, dusty law that almost no one took seriously anymore.
Jiang Ming took a small step forward.
“Therefore, in my capacity as a noble, I formally lodge a complaint: please follow the Act and take these two away to reflect on their actions. As for the charge, let’s call it Etiquette Negligence. What do you think?”
He shifted his tone, speaking even faster.
“Additionally, since the adults of this household must leave for a while, I suggest the child be sent to the Morning Star Church shelter under the Minor Temporary Asylum Ordinance. It’s warm there, there’s food, and people to look after him.”
After finishing, he stood there with a warm, genial smile.
The room was silent.
The parents’ mouths hung open, completely petrified, forgetting even to shiver. The Inquisitor’s gaze moved back and forth twice between Jiang Ming’s bright, smiling face, the blank expressions of the couple, and the child in the corner. Finally, that cold metallic voice hummed.
“…Complaint accepted. Procedure initiated.”
Jiang Ming didn’t look back at the parents who were about to be politely “escorted” away. He nimbly knelt in front of the child in the corner, produced a piece of candy from his pocket like a magic trick, stuffed it into the child’s cold little hand, and winked.
“Go somewhere with a hearth.”
The child stared at him blankly, then looked at the candy in his hand.
Although the judicial system hadn’t been reformed in 1968, the environment of the prisons in 1965 had improved under his own promotion; at least people wouldn’t freeze to death there anymore.
Jiang Ming stood up and clapped his hands lightly, as if he had just finished a small, pleasant task. He turned to leave the house, waving back at the room before he went, humming an out-of-tune little ditty as he stepped into the sparse winter sunlight of the alley.
A Judge must know the law!
Fortunately, he lived in a world governed by legal systems and had always understood the law well.
As for the family dispute—now that everyone was locked up, what family dispute could there possibly be?
***
Outside the field, in a hidden room.
Unlike the cold within the illusion, the air here was permeated with the scent of candy and old book scrolls. Hundreds of shimmering screens floated in mid-air, silently reflecting the various struggles of the freshmen in their respective exam questions.
In the center of the room, behind a workbench piled with cluttered books and strange instruments, a young girl sat casually.
She looked to be only twelve or thirteen years old, her short blue hair sticking up in a few messy strands. Her large, bright Violet eyes were locked unblinkingly onto a screen in front of her. On that screen were the actions of Jiang Ming.
A brief silence filled the cluttered room.
Then—
“Pfft… Hahaha… Hahahahaha!!!”
Without warning, the girl suddenly leaned back, erupting into a loud, almost outrageous burst of laughter. Her laughter was clear yet possessed a piercing quality that didn’t match her youthful appearance, instantly shattering the room’s silence and echoing off the walls.
She laughed so hard she rocked back and forth, the lollipop in her hand nearly slipping out. Her Violet eyes curved into crescents, yet they flickered with a light that was almost fanatical.
“Haha… Ha… Oh, heavens…” She finally caught her breath, wiping away tears of laughter with her sleeve, but the corners of her mouth remained pulled wide as she stared at the screen that had gone dark, yet seemed to still hold Jiang Ming’s lingering shadow.
“Brilliant… simply brilliant!” She licked her lollipop, her voice filled with unabashed delight and the excitement of discovering a treasure.
“It’s been boring for so long, and finally, someone interesting shows up.” She muttered to herself, her tone carrying the anticipation of someone finding a new toy. “Jiang Ming, is it? The statue of the Lord Protector has stood in the city for so long it’s practically a tourist attraction… I didn’t expect to see such a similar, interesting soul in this era. Even the name is the same; what a coincidence.” She stretched, crunching the last bit of candy, and accurately flicked the stick into a distant wastepaper basket.
“Alright then,” the girl clapped her hands, a smile blending innocence and cunning returning to her face. “The passing rate for this year’s freshmen might actually be pulled up a bit because of this guy. At least the opening ceremony won’t be so boring.”
“Really…” She stole one last glance at the many screens still lit up; Jiang Ming’s had already gone dark.
Yet it was as if all the other screens had dimmed, and only Jiang Ming’s was still glowing. “Welcome to the Dome of Knowledge, Student Jiang Ming. In the days to come, you better not disappoint me.”
“After all, you see, Student Jiang Ming… that High Mountain Black Goat is born to jump over the fence eventually.”
Suddenly, there was a knock on the lounge door. The cheerful girl was curled up in a chair piled with soft cushions, a half-opened lollipop dangling from her mouth.
“That’s strange, no one should know I’m here.” The girl grumbled slightly but climbed down from her chair to open the door. If someone knew her location and still knocked, it was likely those old fogies from the Board of Directors looking for her.
Regardless of who it was, she had already prepared a long string of unique complaints.
The door opened.
A head of frost-white hair was the first thing to enter her vision, followed by a pair of crimson eyes that looked like tempered glass.
The word “Scram” that was rolling off the principal’s tongue got stuck firmly in her throat.
“…Your Majesty the Empress?”
The person outside the door nodded slightly.
“It has been a long time, Nafi.”