“Ignorant?” William Grant looked utterly surprised; he really couldn’t associate the person before him with ignorance.

It was precisely because he knew nothing about this new world that he wanted to learn more. Brian Carter understood that the sense of discord in his heart stemmed from the clash between reality and common sense, from the feedback of an unfamiliar environment. If he had lived his whole life as an ordinary person, that would have been one thing, but he happened to be gifted. Repaying his cheap master’s debts was just a pretext; even if this incident hadn’t happened, he would have taken this step sooner or later. As the institution managing all supernatural phenomena, the Shumi Bureau was undoubtedly an ideal platform.

Moreover, for someone who had received systematic education, the pursuit of knowledge and answers had become an instinct engraved in his soul.

But even if he explained all this, people in this world probably wouldn’t understand.

He waved his hand and turned to leave.

Chapter Three: Assessment Content

However, Brian Carter didn’t leave the teahouse immediately. Instead, he stopped at the stairwell corner and waited until the waiter brought the newly ordered braised beef, then called him over and put the beef into his own pocket.

Faced with such a strange request, the waiter didn’t have too many doubts—after all, he had just been sitting at the same table as William Grant, who was still sitting in his seat.

After “packing up” the beef, Brian Carter leisurely left the teahouse—this way, he even saved himself the trouble of lunch.

After all, his fellow townsman had told him not to be polite and to order whatever he wanted, and he believed William Grant wouldn’t mind the plate of braised beef vanishing into thin air.

To be honest, he didn’t have a bad impression of this young man; he had a good temperament, and even in his embarrassment could still face himself honestly, which was rare. What’s more, his family was quite well-off—if he could win him over, life in Fenghua County would be much easier. Unfortunately, what he said was also true: since he was only taking the scholar’s exam because of family pressure, there was no need to take that risk.

His master had repeatedly warned him that dealing with evil anomalies was a serious matter. If you weren’t determined and fully prepared, you must never get involved lightly.

Judging from his cheap master’s usual habit of only handling minor ghosts and spirits and avoiding Shumi Bureau adepts, he was probably telling the truth.

By afternoon, the proctor finally gathered everyone in the center of the town and announced the content of the assessment.

The theme turned out to be surprisingly simple: within the allotted time, just fill a bottle with Spirit Fire Source.

So-called spirit fire was the folk term for “ghost fire.” After being dried and ground, its source could be used as a reagent for several arts, and was relatively easy to obtain.

Of course, Brian Carter wouldn’t step forward to say that this phenomenon should be called phosphorescence, that it was burning phosphine, produced from decaying human bones—because those powders could indeed trigger some miraculous phenomena and were reproducible. And repeatability happened to be the most important tenet in scientific experiments.

His common sense was useless here—or rather, it was operating in some other form he didn’t know.

Because spirit fire wasn’t rare and was easy to collect—just dig with a shovel—when the main assessment was announced, a commotion immediately broke out among the crowd.

No wonder the candidates were surprised; even ordinary people, as long as they were brave enough, could easily accomplish this.

The proctor ignored everyone’s discussions, simply lifted the red silk beside him, revealing a signboard and a long table underneath.

On the table was a large pile of porcelain bottles, clearly the containers needed for the exam.

The ink characters on the signboard further explained the assessment rules, but overall, they were very concise—only three items.

“One: The scholar’s exam lasts seven days. You may not leave Qingshan Town during this period.”

“Two: It is forbidden to interfere with the villagers’ daily lives.”

“Three: You must not harm fellow candidates.”

“Any candidate who violates any of the above rules will be immediately disqualified!” the proctor announced loudly. “Now, the tenth scholar’s exam of the Great Qi begins. I wish you all good luck!” With that, he turned and left, giving no explanation at all.

“Wait, seven days?” The crowd erupted.

“This is something you can finish in a day—why give so much time?”

“Doesn’t that mean everyone can pass?!”

“Whatever, let’s just grab a bottle first.”

This seemed to remind everyone, and the scene instantly became chaotic. Those at the front who got bottles wouldn’t leave, while those at the back couldn’t get in. In the pushing and shoving, several porcelain bottles slid off the table and shattered. Candidates who hadn’t gotten a bottle yet, afraid of losing their qualification, pushed even harder. Someone fell, and it looked like a stampede was about to break out.

“Everyone, stop right now!”

Suddenly, a crisp voice rang out across the square.

A young woman leapt onto the long table, drew the wooden sword at her waist, and struck a pose as if about to chop down. “If anyone moves another step, I’ll smash all these bottles!”

The commotion instantly froze.

No one even objected—because they realized the rules didn’t prohibit destroying the containers. If she really did it, whether or not she’d incur everyone’s wrath was another matter, but it was certain they wouldn’t be able to complete the assessment.

“Junior sister, what are you doing?”