Chapter 57 Belial

Someone like Koman would undoubtedly perish instantly if he were to enter an immortal-cultivation web novel genre. He could not even make sense of the publicly available higher-mathematics textbooks in the real world; could he possibly comprehend the profound cultivation techniques supposedly concealed by transcendent masters in the realm of immortality?

If he possessed such capability, he would have long since studied *The Principles of Quantum Mechanics* and *The Landau Course of Theoretical Physics* in real life, rendering any need to pursue immortality completely obsolete.

Mathematics is the spiritual root of the real world—either you have it or you don't. Furthermore, based on his lived experiences in France, Koman had already concluded that both in his past life and his present one, he belonged squarely among ordinary people who simply did not have it.

French higher education in the realm of mathematics was certainly no inferior to that of the Soviet Union, but he knew the Soviet strength lay in its foundational education, which continuously filtered out top-tier academic elites.

Of course, from the American perspective, those were merely a bunch of nerds; mere academic prodigies were far from being divine intellectuals.

Yet, the Soviet educational system did succeed to a massive degree in granting everyone a fair opportunity. Everything else depended solely on an individual's innate mathematical talent.

Pavlov initially assumed that Koman harbored admiration for the Soviet Union's formidable basic education or intended to emulate it in some way, only to hear Koman bluntly state that the system was merely filtering out idiots.

While Koman's words carried a perverse grain of truth, Pavlov could under no circumstances acknowledge it. Equality was the core political correctness of the Soviet Union, an absolute taboo to violate. "Imperialist nations always divide people into different strata; that is fundamentally wrong."

"Whether mathematical talent exists or not is hardly something I can control," Koman said, his gaze toward Pavlov filled with a sense of utter bewilderment. "Oppressive education does indeed raise the educational baseline for ordinary people, but that is all it can accomplish. Naturally, we need talented individuals in positions suited to their abilities. But the majority lack such talent; once Soviet-educated university graduates exceed demand, they will likely end up sweeping the streets."

"What do you mean by oppressive education?" asked the young French-speaking Soviet female translator nearby, her delicate brows knitting together. Over the past two days, she had noticed that soldiers of the usurer-imperialist power certainly had a disagreeable way of speaking.

"On a macro level, the Soviet education system is undeniably oppressive. When a teacher summons parents to school and tells them their child is exceptionally bright but simply lacks diligence, is that supposed to be comforting?"

Koman curled his lip in a smile and continued, "Students collectively bear the immense pressure imposed by society and their parents, firmly believing themselves to be pillars of the nation, only to graduate and become coal miners? While that is not entirely impossible, how are they supposed to resolve the gap between their ideals and reality when that moment arrives?"

Was not the Soviet education system simply the reverse of the American one? American joy-based education treated everyone like a fool, directly eradicating the nurturing environment for geniuses at the root.

While the Soviet education system could unearth geniuses to a much greater extent, once those geniuses were discovered, it failed to provide a sufficient number of good positions to utilize their talents to the fullest.

While Pavlov and the female translator pondered his words, Koman pulled out his newly purchased diary to jot down his thoughts: "Following primary education, implement academic streaming and establish a parallel track of science and engineering systems."

Today, he had indeed inspected Soviet foundational education very earnestly, attentively listening to a lecture without even sparing the leisure to observe the blossoming young Soviet women.

The streaming experiment would begin in the overseas departments. For France, an overseas department was a blank slate upon which one could paint however one pleased. The education rate among the non-French immigrant population—the native inhabitants—in Algeria was a mere three percent; such a proportion could not even rival the Republican era and was genuinely disgraceful.

If a mistake were inadvertently made, it mattered little—it was merely a minor trial of frost and wind. The Algerians possessed the courage, confidence, and capability to weather the storm; one had to dare to be the first in the world.

Having just pointed out the catastrophic loss of the male population suffered by the Soviet Union during the war, Koman immediately pivoted to criticizing the inadequacy of the Soviet basic educational streaming system. Consequently, he secured another entry on Pavlov's surveillance report.

While Pavlov drafted his report, Koman packaged up a set of Soviet higher education textbooks. In truth, French higher education was by no means inferior to the Soviet Union's, and at this juncture, it might even be stronger. However, targeting foundational education alone would make the objective far too obvious; a veneer of equal treatment had to be maintained.

Koman bore the responsibility of investigating the reasons behind the Soviet Union's formidable strength—or at least, that was the pretext he had given to Georges Bidault.

Could a Soviet Union that decisively defeated a Germany that had swept across Europe—so vastly different from the Imperial Russia that was pinned to the ground by Germany with a single hand during the First World War—not be worthy of study?

By this point, no European nation doubted the thorough rebirth of the Soviet Union from its Imperial Russian days. The Germans had doubted it, and they had doubted it with practical, bodily actions—the flames of war had already spread to their ancestral cradle in East Prussia.

While touring Moscow State University, Koman formally requested to execute the scheduled visit to the NKVD: "I want to go to a German prisoner-of-war camp."

"What is your objective?" Pavlov asked with a frown. During the discussions at the Kremlin, the other party had already expressed a desire to tour the NKVD, albeit under a different pretext now.

While changing the pretext might fool outsiders, he was an NKVD officer and naturally knew that German prisoner-of-war camps were part of the Gulag system, managed as a vital component of the NKVD.

Koman claimed he merely wanted to tour a German prisoner-of-war camp, but his true aim remained understanding the NKVD; changing the phrasing would not alter his underlying purpose.

"Tovarisch, do you suppose that the Soviet Union alone holds German prisoners of war? German prisoners of war exist equally in Britain, in France, and in many other European countries."

Koman said to Pavlov with solemn gravity, "Every European nation has suffered German aggression, sustaining immense losses. Post-war reconstruction is a monumental challenge. Why not utilize free labor? But how to utilize it and maximize efficiency—that is likely where we fall short compared to you, which is why I must resolve this issue."

It was rare for Koman to be this serious. This reasoning was impeccably righteous. As for the parts that were not entirely righteous, Pavlov had no need to know: namely, that a massive contingent of German soldiers would undoubtedly become part of the French Foreign Legion after the war.

Faced with the impending wave of post-war decolonization, France and Germany would inevitably achieve European unity in a certain sense.

The Gulag system would first be tested on German prisoners of war, and subsequently applied in Algeria—though Pavlov had no need to be informed of the latter.

"I must submit an application. Even if it is ultimately approved, only you alone may go." Pavlov genuinely lacked the authority to issue a direct refusal; this was a matter for higher authorities to consider.

Especially now, with the French Minister of Foreign Affairs having just concluded a successful visit, relations between the Soviet Union and France seemed to stand at a new starting point. What could a mere NKVD officer do aside from drafting reports and passing them up the chain of command?

"Is there something wrong with this French soldier?" Riasnoy asked during an NKVD meeting, placing the report submitted by Pavlov regarding Koman's request to visit a German prisoner-of-war camp onto the table. "No foreigner, let alone a foreign soldier, has ever been granted deep insight into the forced labor-reform system. I suspect he is targeting the Gulag."

"There is no need for suspicion; he undoubtedly is," concluded Vsevolod Merkulov, Deputy People's Commissar for Internal Affairs, settling the matter definitively. "He has made no secret of it since the Kremlin. Kobulov, has your investigation concluded? Do you have intelligence on him?"

Just as his voice trailed off, Lavrentiy Beria, the People's Commissar for Internal Affairs of the Soviet Union, pushed open the door and stepped inside. The NKVD generals, including Merkulov, rose as if by conditioned reflex, their gazes following Beria's figure until he took his seat at the head of the table.