The Turning Point of World War II

Knock, knock, knock!

"Lin Mo, are you up?"

Teacher Bai stood in the hotel corridor, knocking on the door with a steady rhythm.

The door opened from the inside, and Lin Mo was already fully dressed.

He wore a light gray Zhongshan suit, the stand-up collar crisp and straight, buttons fastened meticulously from top to bottom.

The national team had arranged formal attire for everyone, mostly suits, but Lin Mo had made a suggestion.

Wear Zhongshan suits across the board.

His reasoning was simple: Chinese people wear Chinese clothes.

The suggestion met no objection from the team, and everyone had custom-tailored Zhongshan suits made.

In previous competitions, the Chinese team had basically always appeared in suits. This was a first.

"Teacher Bai, are the others ready?"

Teacher Bai looked Lin Mo up and down, nodded approvingly, and said,

"Some of them aren't done yet. I just wanted to check on you first, and also give you a few words of advice—if anyone raises objections today, don't step forward on your own."

"Leave it to you?"

"Yes, leave it to me to handle."

Teacher Bai paused. "You just sit there and do nothing."

Everyone knew that Teacher Bai cherished talent.

Lin Mo nodded seriously. "Fine. But if they really want me to prove something, let them come at me. That way, I get a chance to show off."

Teacher Bai's face stiffened. "A kid saying things like that. Be serious."

"Alright, alright. Serious, serious."

Teacher Bai shook his head and carefully straightened Lin Mo's collar. "Whatever happens, don't start an argument. Maybe nothing will happen at all."

After all, China was one of the five permanent members of the UN Security Council, and the Chinese team had also won first place in the Math Olympiad multiple times. The reputation was solid.

After fixing the collar, Teacher Bai headed off toward the other side.

"I'll go call the rest. Gather in the lobby later, and don't wander off."

"Got it!"

Lin Mo closed the door and checked his collar in the mirror.

The person in the mirror had calm eyes—an eighteen-year-old youth in this Zhongshan suit, carrying himself with a measure of dignity.

Ten minutes later, in the hotel lobby.

The Chinese team of six, plus Teacher Bai as the leader and various support staff, had all gathered.

They weren't the only team in the lobby. Several countries' contestants were also waiting for their buses to arrive, standing around in small groups and chatting.

The US team was there too.

A few dark-haired young men huddled together, their glances drifting toward the Chinese team from time to time.

Especially Chen Zhiyuan.

Chen Zhiyuan had clearly been lectured by his team leader. He looked deflated.

The near-disqualification from almost throwing hands still haunted him.

So today, he kept his distance, only watching from afar.

He treated Lin Mo like a plague.

The US team leader had even called a special meeting, telling each member one by one: stay away from the Chinese team. Don't cause trouble.

A competitor like Lin Mo was simply not someone they could recruit.

On the other side of the lobby, several European teams were also watching the scene.

Compared to the Chinese team, they'd much rather see the US team humiliated—after all, who doesn't love watching a hegemonic power get knocked down a peg?

Shuttle buses pulled up one after another, each one just enough to carry one team.

After all, it wouldn't be practical to mix teams on the same bus.

The award venue was the same gymnasium, but the inside had been rearranged—red carpet laid out, a podium built, and warm yellow spotlights installed. It looked much more formal.

As soon as the bus entered the perimeter of the gymnasium, Lin Mo extended his spiritual sense.

Within five hundred meters, there were stationed troops.

Not just Korean troops, but American troops too.

Korean forces held the outer perimeter, while US soldiers guarded the inner ring, with a few military dogs on leashes.

A country built on a US base hosting US troops wasn't unusual, but at this density, even a presidential visit didn't warrant such security.

Lin Mo swept further.

No agents from the Bureau of Divine Eyes.

The Superpower Youth Squad... a few remained, but they were background players, their combat power negligible.

The battle last night had basically drained their resources.

Dongfang Shuye had somehow sat down next to him, also looking out the window.

Dongfang Shuye spoke in a voice so low only the two of them could hear.

"Lots of troops. What's the plan?"

"What plan? If it really comes to a fight, you protect Teacher Bai and the others. I'll go take out their bunkers."

Dongfang Shuye gave a thumbs-up. "No complaints."

"What are you two whispering about?" Wang Jie walked over, looking curious.

Dongfang Shuye didn't blink. "Discussing history."

"What history?"

"The turning point of World War II." Lin Mo chimed in.

"That's gotta be the Battle of Ping'an Fortress!"

"No complaints. That's my take too."

Wang Jie was satisfied. He leaned back and started chatting with the teammate next to him about the perils of the Battle of Ping'an Fortress.

"The most important thing is still firing the artillery!"

Dongfang Shuye and Lin Mo exchanged a glance, then each looked away.

The bus stopped.

Everyone got off and headed toward the venue entrance.

In his spiritual sense, Lin Mo caught a figure.

Then he saw him standing at the door with a blank expression: Han Junhao.

Alone, both hands in his pockets, looking like he'd given up on everything.

It was clear that last night had hit the kid hard.

But for him to show up here at this moment was surprising to Lin Mo.

Probably here to keep an eye on him.

Their eyes met briefly.

Han Junhao glanced at Lin Mo, then at Dongfang Shuye. His lips moved as if to say something, but in the end, he stayed silent and turned his face toward the sky outside the gymnasium.

Lin Mo didn't slow down. He followed the team inside.

The venue was already more than half full.

The Chinese team's seats were in the front row, slightly to the left—the usual arrangement for previous years.

Historically strong teams always got placed in the visual center of the space. No matter what the hosts secretly thought, they had to maintain appearances.

Soon, all national teams were seated, and the big screen began displaying individual scores.

Teacher Bai led the team to their seats, while the non-essential support staff left the venue and waited outside.

Like Dongfang Shuye.

Media from various countries were also present, since this was a world-class competition, and foreign correspondents always came to document it.

The lights dimmed.

The big screen on stage lit up.

The host gave an opening speech—first in Korean, then in English—a couple of minutes of pleasantries, and then announced the release of individual score rankings.

The rules were to announce from last place forward, with each name accompanied by a flag and total score.

The numbers flashed.

Six hundred thirty-second, six hundred thirty-first...

The further up the rankings it went, the more nervous—and also more excited—those whose names hadn't appeared became.

On the Chinese team side, everyone kept their composure.

Three hundredth place passed with no Chinese names.

By the top fifty, the first Chinese name finally appeared.

Thirty-sixth place.

The moment that contestant saw his rank, his face sank, and he muttered under his breath, "That doesn't add up. I double-checked that problem on the second day."

Teacher Bai patted him on the shoulder. "That's already a great result."

Then came the top twenty, the top ten.

The other team members appeared on the list one by one.

Then came first place.

Lin Mo's name had never shown up.

This time, Teacher Bai was baffled.

"Hey! That's not right! How could this be?!"