In the examination room, Lu Mingfei met an Indian student named Qilan, who claimed to be the president of some Freshman Union.
With an excessively enthusiastic, overly familiar manner, Qilan had barely said a few words before solemnly declaring that he wanted to give Lu Mingfei his position as president.
Lu Mingfei refused without a second thought, saying, "I'm untalented and poorly learned. You should find someone more capable." He knew exactly what he was worth. Lead other people? What a joke.
Then something happened that left him dumbfounded. Tears actually began to drip from Qilan's large, clearly defined black-and-white eyes, making him look like a wronged little wife.
Lu Mingfei was utterly baffled. No, man... I just turned you down. Do you really need to cry? You're making it look like I'm some heartless bastard who abandoned you... We've known each other for, what, a few minutes?
But he quickly realized something was wrong. Amid the powerful music blasting from the speakers, there seemed to be low, ancient syllables with an intensely penetrating quality... the pronunciation of Dragon Script!
Qilan had entered Spirit Vision.
Lu Mingfei did not dare let his mind wander any further. He hurriedly composed himself and began answering the questions. He got lucky with the first one: the Dragon Script for "Spirit Word: Prophet" was playing.
He had a deep impression of this Spirit Word, said to glimpse the future, and remembered it particularly well. His pen flew across the page as he rapidly sketched it onto the blank paper.
After the Dragon Script for "Prophet" repeated three times, the beat of the background music remained strong, but the ancient syllables hidden within it had quietly changed.
Lu Mingfei felt that he was performing exceptionally well today. The questions came to him with unusual ease.