Chapter 16

With Zhang Dahai’s antics, Lin Mo’s decision to take the Immortal Exam was successfully swept under the rug.

As homeroom teacher, Li Xiang wasn’t unaware—he simply knew that suppression was worse than guidance.

In past graduating classes, there had always been students like Lin Mo and Zhang Dahai.

After years of arduous study, it was never easy to make someone abandon the path to immortality.

Since the arrival of *After Honghuang*, everyone on Diyuan Star gained a cultivation system, and the pursuit of Dao and eternal life became the mainstream worldview among mortals.

Even if you stopped any child just learning to speak and asked them, they’d say their dream was to ascend to immortality, not become a scientist who benefits humanity.

But gaining a cultivation interface doesn’t guarantee enlightenment or immortality.

In truth, cultivation aptitude remains a heavenly chasm blocking most people.

Even Nanshan No. 4 High, one of the top five key schools in Sichuan Province, sees only a handful of students ever pass into the Dao Academy.

The final mock exam in senior year is, in a sense, meant to jolt students like Lin Mo out of their illusions.

The mock exam follows the exact format of the real Immortal Exam: written tests are held in the morning.

After the written test ends, a small number of students take the Immortal Exam in the afternoon.

At eight in the morning, Lin Mo and his classmates had been moved to the computer lab in Building Two.

Yes, the written test was computer-based, and all subjects were bundled into one exam.

It wasn’t the school’s doing—it was always done this way every year.

No matter how many subjects, the written test always combined them into a single exam.

This wasn’t unique to Qinzhou—it was standard across all of Diyuan Jiuzhou.

The mindset of “emphasizing cultivation, neglecting culture” ran deep throughout Diyuan Jiuzhou.

Still, despite that, the written test questions were mostly multiple-choice, leaving ample time.

At least for Lin Mo, the academic overachiever, it was more than enough.

Lin Mo had chosen Physics and Literature as his electives—the former being easy for those who understood it, impossible for those who didn’t.

In short, it required little memorization and was ideal for rapid score gains.

Literature, of course, was just basic skill—no need to elaborate.

“Ding ling ling~!”

The exam bell rang precisely on time; the screen, previously filled with the student’s name and ID, now switched to the test interface.

One after another, multiple-choice questions appeared before Lin Mo.

Astronomy and Geography each had forty questions, Physics had twenty, Literature had only ten, and finally, an essay.

The questions weren’t many, but their difficulty was hard to judge.

Lin Mo clicked his mouse, scrolled the page, and read the first astronomy question—

1. To observe the movements of the Sun, Moon, and Five Planets, ancient Diyuan Star long ago divided the celestial regions near the ecliptic and celestial equator into:

A. Twelve Zodiac Constellations; B. Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions; C. 350 degrees; D. Three Enclosures

…

“Hmph. A ten-year-old written test question.”

Seeing this, Lin Mo already had a clear sense of the exam’s difficulty.

“Is this simplicity meant to build confidence in written-test takers?”

He thought to himself, glancing around.

Many of his classmates, upon seeing the questions, immediately wore expressions of deep suffering.

Clearly, the school’s tactic had failed.

For students who spent most of their time cultivating, even the simplest questions felt insurmountable without review—they could only scratch their heads, utterly baffled.

The cultural literacy of this world is pathetic… Lin Mo mentally grumbled, then wasted no time, moving his mouse to the left.

His right hand kept tapping “1,” his left hand stayed on the mouse, eyes scanning questions rapidly, fingers clicking swiftly—the questions flew by.

The crisp clicks of his mouse drew attention from many students around him.

When they turned to see it was Lin Mo, they all wore expressions of envy.

If Ye Chen was Nanshan No. 4’s top Immortal Exam prospect, then Lin Mo was its top written-test prospect.

As students had said, this bastard Lin Mo had spent his spare time studying culture for a full year, leaving them all far behind.

In the last two mock exams, his written-test scores were astonishing.

According to Old Li, Lin Mo’s second mock score could rank within the top hundred of all of Sichuan Province.

That’s why everyone was so shocked when he chose the Immortal Exam.

But the students’ attention was quickly drawn to another sharp, forceful click from elsewhere in the room—they turned to look—

Oh, it’s Dahai!

Zhang Dahai’s expression wasn’t pained like the others; instead, he wore the same relaxed ease as Lin Mo, as if the questions on screen posed no challenge whatsoever.

But those who knew him well understood: if forced to describe Zhang Dahai in one phrase, it would be—

Dahai, you’re all water!

As the class mocked him, the proctor coughed and said:

“What are you looking at? Eyes on your own screen!”

At the teacher’s words, students snapped their attention back to their screens—and soon, confusion and agony returned to their faces…

Time flew by; six hours of testing felt instantaneous to Lin Mo, who was focused.

For the others, it was agony—like sitting on needles, worse than meditation.

“Huh~!”

Lin Mo stretched, set down his left mouse, and kept tapping “1” with his right hand—

【Merit +1】

He didn’t look at the score displayed by the system, but at his personal panel’s Merit value.

“Good. Tapping ‘1’ is getting smoother—even while answering questions, I didn’t waste a single second of the Merit cooldown. 360 Merit points acquired!”

He thought to himself.

Just then, a cry rang out in the classroom:

“Mozi! Amazing! First place again!”

Aside from the essay, all written-test questions were multiple-choice, and since it was computer-based, scores and rankings appeared instantly after the exam.

Lin Mo’s name sat prominently at the top of Class 10, Senior Three—

【Lin Mo: 886 points, Class Rank: 1】

“Lin Mo is insane! Even if he wrote the essay with his foot, he’d still hit 900!”

“No wonder he’s our class god!”

“With these scores, why even take the Immortal Exam? Stick to the cultural track!”

“…”

Classmates enthusiastically praised him.

Before Lin Mo could speak, Zhang Dahai leapt up dramatically in the computer lab and shouted:

“Mozi, you’re my god! 886 points—insane!”

Above Lin Mo’s head floated several black question marks.

Then he saw Zhang Dahai, without even glancing at him, turn toward Ye Chen in the corner and sneer:

“Hah! Some people have great luck, but their brains are useless.”

Ye Chen’s face darkened noticeably.

Several students instinctively scrolled through the score sheet and found Ye Chen’s rank near the bottom:

【Ye Chen: 390 points, Class Rank: 32】

The score wasn’t low per se, but compared to Ye Chen’s name, it felt utterly mismatched.

Worse, 390 was less than half of Lin Mo’s score—everyone recalled Ye Chen’s earlier mockery of Lin Mo…

“What good are good cultural scores? You still can’t pass the Immortal Exam!”

Ye Chen snorted and said, knowing his strength lay elsewhere. He tossed his mouse on the desk and stood up, walking out of the lab with cool detachment.

Zhang Dahai wore a victor’s grin, muttering after his retreating back:

“Served you right for showing off earlier!”

Many classmates silently gave him a thumbs-up. Since Ye Chen earned the title “Child of Fate,” even teachers treated him with caution, rarely speaking harshly.

Zhang Dahai was the first in class to openly provoke him.

“So bold! Big Brother Dahai!”

Someone even whispered a compliment.

Zhang Dahai waved his hand dismissively, acting like it was nothing, then rushed over to Lin Mo, boasting:

“How’s that, Mozi? Dad got you back! That idiot’s a textbook case of strong limbs, empty head—still trying to act tough with these pathetic cultural scores…”

Lin Mo fell silent, then picked up the mouse, scrolled down the score sheet, and found Zhang Dahai’s name at the very bottom—

【Zhang Dahai: 249 points, Class Rank: 49】

Perfect. One point shy of 250—second-to-last in the class.

Killed eight hundred, lost ten thousand, huh?

You’re barely better than that idiot Chu Wange!

You're only slightly better than that fool Chu Wange!