"The annual college entrance exam is approaching—a chance for every interstellar citizen to change their destiny. Each person gets only one shot, one in a lifetime. Whether you become a dragon or a worm is decided by this single test, and your fate will be turned upside down from then on. Some soar to the skies, forever elevated; others fall to the dust, remaining obscure for a lifetime..."
In the classroom, a sharp middle-aged woman in black stood at the podium, delivering a lecture.
A group of students sat below, not daring to breathe too loudly.
Feng Lin listened silently.
Even after all these years, with humanity entering the interstellar age and technology reaching its peak—able to traverse millions of light-years through wormholes—the ancient exam format of the college entrance test hadn't disappeared. Instead, it had been fully preserved, bursting forth with a brand-new evolution.
The scope of the exam was unimaginably vast, spanning all of interstellar humanity.
As a powerful tool for breaking down inherent class barriers, the college entrance exam had its own reason for existing.
"This qualifying exam is the first school-wide mock test before the real college entrance exam. Only those who pass it will be eligible to take the actual exam. If you can't even pass the mock, don't bother showing up to embarrass yourself—you'll just drag down our school's admission rate!" the female homeroom teacher said sternly, her gaze sweeping over the students, lingering especially on a few low-performing ones like Feng Lin, the warning clear as day.
The annual college entrance exam for all of interstellar humanity was no joke. With billions crossing a single-plank bridge, going up without outstanding results was suicide.
The school absolutely wouldn't allow worthless scum to recklessly waste precious exam slots and tarnish its reputation.
The other students watched this scene with gleeful schadenfreude.
Feng Lin clenched his hands tightly, then slowly released them.
If it were before, he might have been filled with indignation, but now he was calm and composed.
Having already died once, that fragile glass heart was long gone.
He was filled with confidence.
With a vitality of 1.5, he had already surpassed most of his peers, so why bother acting bitter and resentful?
The growth in his strength had also matured his mindset.
These petty scheming behaviors seemed utterly childish to him.
If these people still thought he was the same old Feng Lin, they'd be in for a big surprise soon.
"To achieve better results in the college entrance exam, the top three students in each class for this qualifying test will have the chance to enter the Virtual Martial Tower for free training!" the teacher dropped another bombshell.
The entire class erupted.
"The Virtual Martial Tower!"
"The one with the virtual martial arts masters?"
"The school's really going all out this time!"
...
Every face was barely concealing excitement, with eager expressions.
The Virtual Martial Tower was a unique virtual martial system exclusive to Earth Middle School, integrating the combat techniques of countless martial arts masters, using optical computers for simulation and deduction, and constructing a virtual space with energy.
From the outside, it looked like a towering pagoda, thirty stories high. Each floor had a simulated martial arts master, identical to a real person, with similar abilities.
The higher the floor, the higher the master's skill level, and the greater the difficulty.
By sparring with these virtual martial arts masters, one could greatly enhance their combat experience and rapidly improve their understanding and mastery of genetic abilities.
But activating the system required a massive amount of energy—tens of thousands of star coins for a single use, which was usually unaffordable.
Normally, students could only enter for training at their own expense, paying ten thousand star coins per session. Only those from wealthy families could afford it.
Entering the Virtual Martial Tower for training was a dream most students could only wish for.
But they never expected the school to be so generous this time, offering three free spots per class. Everyone got excited, and those capable of competing were determined to seize the top three spots.
"Now, let's begin the written exam!"
With the teacher's announcement, the exam officially started.
Unlike Earth's era, the interstellar age's college entrance exam only had two parts: the written exam and the martial exam.
The written exam tested all book-based theoretical knowledge: literature, history, mathematics, physics, biology, chemistry, psychology, law, astronomy...
And the format was completely different from ancient Earth's exams. There was no perfect score—only high scores, higher scores, and even higher scores. Theoretically, there was no upper limit.
In the interstellar age, with humanity's enhanced vitality, intellectual development, and razor-sharp thinking, the written exam was extremely difficult. There was no limit on the number of questions; the smart optical computer randomly generated a set of questions. Everyone had two hours to answer, with each correct answer worth one point. The more questions answered correctly, the higher the score.
Because there was no score ceiling, the gap between top and bottom students after an exam was enormous—dozens of times difference was normal.
The martial exam tested one's cultivation, focusing on mythological genes.
The qualifying exam was the first mock test before the real college entrance exam and the most important one, determining whether each person could participate. No one dared to be careless.
The first part was the written exam.
In front of each person floated a holographic projection, with exam content cascading down like a waterfall, displayed before their eyes.
A vitality of 1.5 wasn't just talk—it meant a comprehensive boost to physical abilities, as well as a leap in memory and thinking skills.
His thoughts raced. The knowledge points he usually struggled with suddenly clicked, and those tough questions only needed a glance for the answer to appear.
Was this the change brought by a vitality breakthrough?
Feng Lin felt a quiet joy, but his hands never stopped.
In the interstellar age, human brains were highly developed, with unimaginably high IQs, and the knowledge they learned was incredibly complex.
General relativity, quantum mechanics, chaos theory—these tough theories, once household names in ancient Earth times, were now just common knowledge for every high school student. But they weren't the hardest part of the exam.
The hardest part was mythological knowledge theory.
After ten thousand years of technological development, most of ancient Earth's mythological knowledge had been lost. Now, humanity could only glimpse fragmented myths from broken, ancient texts.
Large gaps had to be filled by people exploring and reconstructing on their own, with various theoretical schools often contradicting each other logically, leaving minds spinning.
So, among high school subjects, mythological knowledge was the most headache-inducing.
The students in the room were all frowning, faces full of distress.
Only Feng Lin sat there, looking calm and relaxed, with an easy expression.
To someone from the past, all of this was just common sense.
Fortunately, the original owner of this body had been extremely diligent. Though his vitality was low, he had a solid grasp of theoretical knowledge.
Feng Lin inherited the original's memories, giving him a big advantage. His theoretical foundation wasn't bad, and he answered questions from various subjects one by one.
When it came to the mythological knowledge questions, that was where he truly excelled.
"List the twelve main gods of Mount Olympus and clarify their divine relationships. Easy: Zeus, king of the gods; Hera, queen of the gods; Athena, goddess of war and wisdom; Apollo, sun god..." Feng Lin wrote swiftly.
"What is the final outcome of the Norse pantheon? The world falls, Ragnarök, the end of all things!" Feng Lin smiled slightly, his expression relaxed.
"The Three Pure Ones and Four Sovereigns of Chinese mythology?" This was a bit tricky. The Chinese mythological lineage was very complex, with various interpretations. Feng Lin recalled and gave the most widely accepted version: "The Three Pure Ones: Yuanshi Tianzun of the Jade Pure, Daode Tianzun of the Taiqing, Lingbao Tianzun of the Shangqing. The Four Sovereigns: the Great Emperor of the Central Purple Pole, the Great Emperor of the Southern Pole, the Great Emperor of Gouchen, and the Earth Mother."
...
Questions cascaded down from the holographic projection like a waterfall. Feng Lin answered them all without hesitation.
As his answering skills grew more proficient, the memories of knowledge points surged out like a geyser, and his answering speed increased.
But he noticed that his answers to the mythological questions weren't all correct—only about seventy percent were right.
Why was that? I know the most original versions of the myths—how could they be wrong? ...
Feng Lin was puzzled. After thinking for a moment, it suddenly dawned on him.
It wasn't that he had answered wrong, but that the standard answers were wrong.
The mythological systems of ancient Earth's human civilizations had mostly vanished. Current mythological knowledge was pieced together from fragments and excavated ruins, often riddled with errors and contradictions.
The original answers were being rejected by these knockoff mythological facts!
Feng Lin was frustrated, but he wasn't foolish enough to speak up and argue. If he did, and someone asked how he knew, what would he say?
If he claimed to know all of ancient Earth's mythology, he'd be taken away for dissection.
Such an unwise move—Feng Lin wouldn't make it.
But the exam was still ongoing. To score high, if accuracy wasn't enough, he'd compensate with quantity.
Feng Lin focused entirely on answering, his finger tapping faster and faster.
Often, as soon as a new question appeared, he'd immediately give the answer, his reaction speed astonishing.
Questions flowed down like a waterfall.
This wasn't just answering—it was grinding through questions!
Feng Lin was immersed in it, turning into a question-grinding maniac, thoroughly enjoying himself and unable to stop.