At this moment, besides the three main judges on stage, Wenren Sheng and the other two, there were many support staff in the examination hall.
Two unfamiliar men in the Supervisory Department's white uniforms stood on either side of the podium as monitors.
Behind the three judges was a silver-white metal desk, where three professional women sat, each assigned to one judge.
They worked on laptops, entering the three judges' assessments of the candidates into the examination system one by one according to their names and candidate numbers.
A team of Black Shirts stood at the four corners of the hall and near the entrances and exits, expressionless and watchful.
Below the podium, many candidates waiting in line to go on stage sat in rows of chairs. Some were whispering among themselves.
"Looks like that young judge is easier to get past."
"Doesn't matter. Out of the three, two have black faces. If they disagree, the one with the red face won't raise an objection for us either."
"Then we can only appeal."
"Hmph, appeal for what? If you don't become an expert by thirty-five, it's still a dead end. Dying early and getting free early isn't so bad." Someone spoke carelessly.
Someone else nodded in agreement. "That's right. If you're not cut out for it, the later you get out, the higher the fusion rate between the Otherworldly Species and your body, and the worse the aftereffects. If you get out before thirty, the aftereffects are much lighter."
Those saying these things were all older candidates, close to thirty.
Before every assessment, everyone had to conduct a self-evaluation. Just like the college entrance exam, most people already had a fair idea of how well they would perform.
"Yeah. We're all pretty much the same. We struggle for more than