Chapter 47 Who says this demon spirit is degraded? This demon spirit is simply amazing.

Before Du Quanquan made that phone call to bicker with his superiors, he had actually organized the school hospital doctors and accompanying maintenance staff in a strenuous effort to bring the phantom spirits back from the brink of death.

The result, of course, was failure.

There was no shame in failure; "phantom clinical medicine" was essentially metaphysics—mysterious and profound. Even if you brought in a chief physician from a provincial tier-three hospital, they wouldn't necessarily be able to restore the spirits to a state where they could properly sustain an examination.

The quality of this batch of phantom spirits was simply atrocious. When purchased, they were already practically at the end of their ropes. It was hard not to suspect that during the acceptance inspection phase at Municipal No. 1 High School, these spirits had already been subjected to metaphysical solvents designed to squeeze out their remaining vitality. In other words, they had already experienced their final resurgence.

Humans cannot experience a final resurgence twice, and neither can phantom spirits.

Yet the actions of the Sun Knight dealt a resounding slap across the face of Du Quanquan’s worldview.

He left as silently as he had quietly come.

Du Quanquan took a few deep breaths, composed his emotions, and neatly tidied up the phantom storage room.

When he returned to the proctoring team, no one expressed any confusion over his brief absence, assuming simply that he had been constipated.

The exam started on time.

The first round, the second round...

Some candidates passed smoothly, while others failed to control the phantom spirits within the designated circles for very long, resulting in disappointing scores.

Yet regardless of who it was, not a single person uttered a single complaint about the handling feel of the porcine-body phantom spirits.

Even a rather reluctant remark drifted through the corridor: "The phantom spirits for this exam are exceptionally easy to use. I wonder if we'll be able to use them next time... Sigh, let's just hope the grading teachers for the theoretical portion show some mercy!"

"Sodayo."

Du Quanquan, patrolling the experimental building, wandered aimlessly, pacing slowly as he endlessly pondered a philosophical question in his mind:

*“Can humans really command phantom spirits using spoken language?”*

Even for high-tier transcendents, this was sheer fantasy.

And the man had even used Chinese! Not Sirius!

The fact that the Sun Knight had triggered a secondary resurgence in the phantom spirits through a pep talk made Du Quanquan feel that the world was deeply surreal. But regardless, this practical exam had passed safely, his supervisor was satisfied, Du Quanquan kept his job, and the students' interests were unharmed.

Everyone achieved happiness.

With the exam concluded, the proctors gathered once again in the corridor hall to briefly tally the examination conditions and tidy up the testing grounds, bringing the day's work to a close.

The afternoon held the final session of the awakening test—professional practice—which had nothing to do with this particular group of people.

***

"No cheating incidents. Two candidates had mental breakdowns and messed around after performing poorly, and there was one absentia... Alright, overall discipline is in good condition." Du Quanquan breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, this wouldn't affect his—oh wait, the bureau chief's—annual performance review.

In ordinary regions, under conditions where disciplinary performance was merely "good," the annual review of the supervising official could hardly reach A+, capping out at an A at best—much like the bizarre college entrance examination schemes of certain provinces in the old days, where if you got even a single B grade on the minor exams, you would obediently be sent off to a tier-two university even if you were the provincial top scorer.

But this was Maple Sugar City. When it came to discipline, "good" in Maple Sugar City was roughly equivalent to "excellent" everywhere else.

After all, it was Maple Sugar.

Just then, a custodian panicked and ran out of the phantom storage room, claiming that something had happened.

Everyone rushed to the storage room, only to discover that the phantom spirits they had just brought back here were now lying motionless inside their feeding stalls.

Not a single ripple of spiritual power could be sensed. In other words, they were all dead.

They died in remarkable solidarity, departing with absolute serenity.

The proctors stared in dumbfounded shock.

Why? Why on earth?

They had clearly been full of spirit during the exam just moments ago, so why did they all kick the bucket the second it ended?

"Leader, this... this won't make us pay for them, will it?" one teacher asked Du Quanquan sheepishly, looking quite terrified.

"No," Du Quanquan shook his head. "The examination process is already over. This is an internal issue for Municipal No. 1 High School; let their logistics and procurement departments argue it out. Off work, dismissed!"

The teachers scattered like birds and beasts.

***

"Who said these phantom spirits were degraded? These phantom spirits are fantastic."

Ouyang stepped out of the exam hall, ran into Li Xingming, and complained with a beaming smile.

"Is that so?" Li Xingming closed the copy of *Folk Customs of the Sixth Era: Fresnel Region* in his hand, wearing an expression of pure innocence.

"I recognize that proctor; he's eaten dinner with my dad. I intentionally didn't choose the phantom spirit number he hinted at to me, which pissed him off so much his face turned green. And guess what happened? Heh, the phantom spirit was absurdly easy to use, felt even better than the one old Liang trained."

"As long as it was easy to use."

"So were they a batch of top-tier goods brought in temporarily? Or did the spirits get pumped full of adrenaline... Ah, whatever, either way, we're locked in."

Ouyang stopped racking his brain, slipping right back into his carefree, airheaded state.

There was still one subject left for the afternoon—"Professional Practice"—which was essentially the interview phase used to distinguish between different destiny paths.

***

For instance, Jiang Qianqian had applied for the music major, and her assessment consisted of live singing or instrumental performance on the spot.

Ouyang was in public administration, which required him to deliver a speech at a simulated hearing and field cross-examination.

For an ordinary liberal arts high school student with an average background and temperament, this might pose quite a challenge.

However, Ouyang had been immersed in his family's secret arts since childhood; giving speeches and debating came to him as naturally as breathing, and he could easily talk venomous self-media bloggers into a dizzy daze.

Before long, Jiang Qianqian also emerged, skipping along with bouncy steps as she looked like she had done well on her exam.

"I managed my time effectively with over fifty seconds to spare. If I just perform normally singing this afternoon, I'll definitely pass the awakening test... Heh heh, I can finally become a transcendent and help Ah Ming out."

Jiang Qianqian kept giggling foolishly in the passenger seat.

Li Xingming made no comment on this, merely reaching out to ruffle her hair.

Suddenly thinking of something, Jiang Qianqian added, "But why was it? The phantom spirits in this exam were so easy to use, yet they emitted the faintest trace of sadness."

"Where was the sadness?"

"Oh, I don't understand it myself. It was just a gut feeling; maybe I was just overthinking it."

She was not overthinking.

A necessary, though not sufficient, condition for becoming a "Living Spirit Singer" was possessing acute emotional perception.

Phantom spirits had emotions too, though the vast majority of transcendents could never perceive them. Yet Jiang Qianqian was able to detect the subtle shifts in emotion—this was her innate talent.

This inclination was also reflected in her singing style; the emotional expression in Jiang Qianqian's vocals was exceptionally delicate, which was why the music teacher mentoring her held her in extremely high regard.

In today's Seer Kingdom music scene, technical standards matched the global mainstream, showing clear progress compared to the old days, but when it came to emotional expression, it was hard to say.

It was the sort of rare talent that demanded intense spirituality.

Especially after grinding for too long in orthodox music education, one often lost the innate qualities natural to human beings. Jiang Qianqian's technique was top-notch—arguably peerless among her age group—yet she had not lost her spirituality.

Consequently, her teachers were brimming with anticipation for her performance that afternoon.

Based on this anticipation, during lunch, her teacher had secretly leaked some inside information to her via a private message.