The examination hall was quiet and solemn.
Sharp-eyed patrol invigilators paced methodically.
Above them, three surveillance cameras hung.
This all-around monitoring ensured a relatively fair environment.
I looked down at the exam paper before me and surprisingly felt a flicker of anticipation.
People always long to make up for regrets; I was lucky to have a second chance.
Lowering my head, I began reading the questions carefully.
The first exam was on Immortal Spirit cultivation theory.
What caught me off guard was that there were questions related to Potion crafting on this paper.
And the difficulty wasn’t low.
Looks like this exam was going to be a massacre.
Though the questions seemed tough, they were no challenge for me as an Alchemist. I wrote swiftly and completed the answers quickly.
Only twenty minutes had passed since the exam started.
If it weren’t for the time I spent rewriting alchemy terms into potion terminology for clarity, I could have written even faster.
But with more than an hour still left to answer… the exam hall didn’t allow early submission, so I could only rest.
Thirty minutes before the exam ended, I handed in my paper.
The invigilator gave a slight nod. “You can wait in the next classroom.”
To prevent early submitters from cheating by sharing answers, even those who finished early had to serve a short detention.
As expected, when I reached the detention room, I ran into a Treasure Chest Monster.
The Treasure Chest Monster swallowed me whole.
“How did your exam go?”
“Most questions were easy, but some I never studied.” Cluru was downcast. “Those potion questions…”
Only then did it hit me.
Right, those potion questions weren’t part of any high school curriculum.
Neither mandatory nor elective.
Given the level of potion technology in this world, those potion questions were probably like… controlled nuclear fusion in physics.
I slapped my forehead in frustration.
Because those questions were too easy for an Alchemist, I hadn’t noticed the trap.
I accidentally answered them all.
……
Meanwhile, far away at Egg University.
Egg University not only housed the world’s largest Immortal Spirit Egg incubation base but was also one of the top Potion Research Centers worldwide.
“Professor Eight-Trap is such a pain! Putting questions even he can’t solve on the Entrance Exam? Are you trying to make these students collapse on the spot?”
“No, no,” the middle-aged man nicknamed Eight-Trap waved his hand. “If students can’t solve them, they just skip ahead. Who’d stubbornly waste time trying to figure them out…”
“But what if one of them is a stubborn mule, walks in smiling, and gets carried out crying?”
“No, no,” Eight-Trap calmly shook his head. “Those questions are all at the end. They won’t get stuck.”
“So… what were you thinking? Why put century-level impossible problems on the Entrance Exam? Did you think those fresh high school graduates could solve what even you couldn’t?”
“I’m not that stupid.”
“Then why do it? Do you know that because of your whim, every university in Donghuang District had to lower their admission cutoff by twenty points?” The female professor was furious. “You didn’t just sabotage yourself, you caused trouble for so many people!”
“No, no, and this time it’s really not my fault,” Eight-Trap smiled sheepishly. “You have to ask the old guy from the Prophecy Department.”
“Prophecy Department? Old Six?”
“Yes, he told me to do it.”
“Why???”
“He said any unsolvable research topics should be thrown into the Entrance Exam. Once it’s over, no more chances.” Eight-Trap scratched his head. “I think some other department professors did the same.”
“…Are you all crazy??? Not satisfied with making students despair, you want them utterly broken???” The female professor was at her wit’s end.
She had just returned from vacation and was greeted by this explosive news.
These question setters were outrageously reckless. This year’s Entrance Exam scores would definitely hit historic lows.
If any student realized their score was too low and lost all confidence, ended up jumping off a building… these scoundrels would be infamous forever!
“You’re all mad.”
The female professor slammed the door in anger and stormed off toward the Prophecy Department.
The Prophecy Department professor was currently teaching.
He was guiding students in an attached-spirit meditation exercise to practice the “50% chance of foreseeing the future” skill.
Before he could finish meditating, the female professor abruptly yanked him out of his clairvoyant state.
“You crazy woman! What are you doing?” the professor’s eyes widened.
“I’m asking you, why did you interfere with the Entrance Exam papers? Why did you let them put such disgusting questions on? Jing?”
“This isn’t my fault!”
“Oh! They said it wasn’t their fault and told me to find you. Now you say it isn’t your fault… so who do I blame?”
“Blame Baize!”
“Baize?? That old business still involves Baize Lord?”
“Yes, remember I prophesied the Solar System explosion last time?”
You know, the success rate of foreseeing the future is only fifty percent. Luckily, reality fell into the other fifty percent, so the Solar System is still fine…
But it also means we just went through a terrifying crisis that could have caused the Solar System to explode.
Something nearly ended us all!
“So?”
“So I went to ask Baize, but Baize didn’t answer directly. He just said—‘Good luck. Make the Entrance Exam really tough.’”
“…”
“Preferably with problems no one can solve but still desperately want to.”
“…Did Baize bug out?”
“Don’t know. But Baize Halls worldwide have been operating normally, so Baize should be fine.”
“…” The female professor was speechless.
……
Kangcheng, outside Kangcheng No. 1 High School exam hall.
“What kind of questions were those?”
After the exam, every student I saw was complaining.
Their faces were full of gloom, heads hung low.
As if life had just dealt them a crushing blow.
“Disaster, disaster! Thought I nailed all the key points, but the questions the setters put out— I’ve never even heard of some of them… something about the Spirit Power Grand Unification Theory Equation… something about potion harmony ratios…”
Thankfully, seeing everyone complain eased their minds.
They’d initially thought it was their school’s teachers’ fault.
They thought their school had missed important exam content.
Now that students from other schools also couldn’t answer, they finally relaxed.
So, I’m not the only one who’s lost!
In an exam, the most important thing isn’t the score but the ranking. As long as no one can solve those questions, it doesn’t matter.
Most students were relieved—except those from Kangcheng No. 2 High School.
“Xiao Luo Xian, did you solve the last few questions?” Xinyue asked listlessly.
“Aren’t hands enough to do it?”
“…” The students of Erzhong were even more self-assured.
The written exam lasted three days in total. After those three days, papers were submitted, and then came the Wu Test.
The Wu Test results were given on the spot, and the exam process was public.
My previous dojo tournament was well-known, and Curator Yazhe even said my Wu Test score was perfect, so I didn’t have to take the Entrance Exam’s Wu Test.
The relevant documents and certificates were already processed.
So I just sat in the spectator seats, coasting.
The Wu Test examiners were mostly at the peak of the Qi Refinement stage.
As a Foundation Establishment stage practitioner, Cluru could easily overwhelm them with just one tentacle.
Needless to say—Cluru got a perfect score.
“Xiao Luo Xian, perfect. Cluru, perfect. Xinyue, perfect. The rest are all above 250 points.” Shi Tian and Chi Xiaoyuan stared dumbfounded at the day’s results. “Since when did our class get this strong?”
Did one field exercise really have such a miraculous effect? This isn’t normal.
“The written exam was just a bit difficult. Didn’t expect the Wu Test to be so easy.” The classmates gave their feedback. “Not sure if we’re too strong or if the examiners are too weak. Getting through their attacks felt effortless.”
“This year’s written exam had those impossible questions, so it’s normal you found it hard.” Chi Xiaoyuan rubbed her forehead.
After the exams, teachers and students gathered in the classroom to estimate scores and summarize.
“Those questions aren’t something high schoolers can solve,” Shi Tian nodded. “It’s normal you couldn’t do them. If you could, that would be abnormal. The people who set the questions must be crazy to put problems that even Spirit Institute Academicians can’t solve on your exam.”
“What? Academicians can’t solve them?”
“Yeah, those are modern unsolved problems. Like this one— how to improve potion material elemental utilization to over 15%.
The strongest alchemists today can only reach about 5% material utilization. If you knew how to get 15%, you wouldn’t need school anymore, you’d be an Academician.
The difficulty of these problems is comparable to controlled nuclear fusion and warp engine production methods… The question setters must be insane.”
When Shi Tian finished speaking, he noticed the students’ gazes weren’t quite right.
They were all quietly staring in the same direction.
He recalled someone saying right after the exam—
Isn’t having hands enough?
“?” My tail curled into a question mark. “Why are you looking at me?”
Really, hands were enough. For a Nine-Grade Pill Cultivator, achieving over 100% material utilization is basic.
And honestly, to me, that was way easier than controlled nuclear fusion.
“It’s nothing,” the classmates quickly recovered and chuckled. “After all, Qilins can do anything.”
A clever remark, saving me from having to explain.
Shi Tian and Chi Xiaoyuan, clueless, continued finishing their final duties.
“We’ve received notice that admission cutoff scores for major universities will be significantly lowered this year, so don’t worry. Now just relax and enjoy the rare free time after exams.”
Vacation time!
Hooray!
“But don’t get too complacent. While resting, think carefully about what career you want.” Preparing to fill out choices after results… “Dismissed! Wishing you all a bright future!”
In the Spirit Era, people hadn’t completely abandoned technology— for example, Entrance Exam papers were still scanned into computers immediately.
Following past procedures, papers would enter the review phase next.
But this year, there was an extra step.
“Make copies of all the papers with those insane questions and send them to the Examiner Panel for approval. We don’t have the capability to judge those.”
“Understood.”
“By the way, this is a special task assigned by the Spirit Association. Keep it confidential. Don’t tell coworkers or other technicians.”
“Got it.”
As the technicians conducted their screening, the relevant papers were quickly identified, secretly copied, and sent off.
However, not long after—
That very night, under cover of darkness, another technician sneaked into the exam paper storage area.
“Yun Luo Xian, Cluru… found them!”
He swiftly replaced the original papers with blank sheets.
Then rapidly altered the stored data in the computer to match blank papers.
“Poor things. This is what happens when you offend powerful people. Want to advance in school? Forget it!”