On the night the final exams ended, Zheng Qing was dragged straight from his dormitory to the Dean's Office by Old Yao.
He had originally thought the dean wanted to ask him about clues related to the crows. Instead, the old man had merely been bored while grading papers and wanted someone to chat with—of course, that excuse would only fool children. That day, Old Yao had given him a frank, professional, constructive lecture and gently yet firmly demanded that he graduate early.
Thinking back to that scene, Zheng Qing inexplicably felt that his chances of receiving the First University Special Contribution Award had become very high.
"Setting aside the Special Contribution Award, I already have twenty bonus points."
The young scholarship student carefully slipped his quill pen into its holder, then reservedly tugged at his sleeve, as though trying to see his counting fingers more clearly. "Eighty plus twenty is one hundred... Two hundred minus one hundred is one hundred... That means I only need another hundred points this semester... No, even fewer. I haven't counted the waivers yet."
He eagerly looked up at the parchment Su Shijun had taken away.
On it, he had listed several courses whose credits could potentially be waived.
So-called credit waivers meant that, after reviewing a student's qualifications, the relevant professor confirmed that the student already possessed the necessary knowledge for that subject and could directly grant the corresponding credits at their discretion.
If he followed Old Yao's original suggestion—using his solid foundation in Talisman Studies to rack up credits in related subjects—Zheng Qing felt he could have many credits waived.
But the Senior Councilor of the Under the Moon Council seemed to see things differently.
"Too many."
She shook her head, her pale fingers pinching the parchment and making it rustle. "You've