Deep into the night, the smog over New Babylon grew heavier than during the day, the halos of neon lights dissolving into blurry patches of color in the moisture.

  A dilapidated van (which Bone had just "borrowed") pulled up to the iron gates of St. George's Private High School. The place had been abandoned for ten years. Withered vines choked the perimeter walls, and the teaching building looked like a hollowed-out corpse, its dark windows staring like the countless unseeing eyes of the dead.

  "Why here?" John Doe sat in the passenger seat, struggling to straighten his fox mask. "This place looks ominous."

  "Because this is a 'Data Congestion Point.'"

  Grace’s holographic projection sat on the dashboard, holding the Yin-Yang iPad. The screen displayed a complex thermal map of spiritual energy.

  "Intel from Master (Singularity). Recently, the Underworld's database had a leak of 'Low-Risk Spirits.' These are mostly souls stuck in the mortal realm due to deep-seated obsessions. This school is one of the leak points."

  She pointed to a deep red marker on the map.

  "The system flagged this as a 'Novice Cleaning Mission.' If you can crossover the earthbound spirits here, aside from the livestream donations, the Underworld will issue a 'Base Merit Salary.' It’s not much—500 points—but even mosquito legs are meat. It’s enough to cover the interest for the last two days."

  "Base salary plus performance bonuses?" John smiled bitterly. "Sure, that sounds reasonable."

  He took a deep breath and pushed the car door open.

  "Start the stream."

  Eastern Livestream Platform. [Grant All Requests · Midnight Ghost Hunt] Room.

  The screen lit up. The camera shook slightly, focusing on the rusty school gates.

  "Good evening, fam. This is your new friend, Mr. Fox."

  John’s voice was processed through a modulator, giving it a deep, magnetic quality (mostly to hide his nervousness).

  "Today, we are exploring... the legendary 'Midnight Exam Hall'."

  Thanks to the traffic boost Grace engineered in the backend (using some hacker tricks, naturally), hundreds of night owls poured into the room the moment it went live.

  [Chat: Is this the new streamer? The background looks so real. Is that a set?]

  [Chat: That mask is definitely 9.99 free shipping from Taobao, right?]

  [Chat: Cut the crap, skip to the ghosts! I want to see if the skeleton is real!]

  Bone timely shoved his shiny, bald skull into the frame and clicked his jaw. "Hello everyone, I am Butler Bone. I'm on lighting duty today."

  [Chat: Holy crap! That prop is sick! It moves!]

  [Chat: Is that CGI or a robot? Looks kinda creepy.]

  Ignoring the skepticism in the chat, John raised the selfie stick and carefully stepped into the teaching building.

  The hallway was terrifyingly silent, their footsteps echoing against the walls. Scattered test papers and textbooks littered the floor, and the walls were still plastered with motivational slogans from a decade ago: [Knowledge is Power].

  Drip.

  The sound of water dripping came from somewhere unseen.

  "According to scans, the spirit reaction is in the Senior Year, Class 1 classroom on the third floor," Grace prompted through his earpiece.

  John swallowed hard and climbed the stairs. With every step, the air grew colder.

  When he reached the end of the third-floor corridor, a faint, weeping voice reciting text drifted out from the closed classroom door.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "abandon... abandon... abide..."

  The voice was young, childish even, but it carried a despair that made one's scalp tingle.

  John pushed the door open.

  Inside, desks and chairs were piled chaotically in the corners. Only one desk, right in front of the podium, was arranged neatly.

  Sitting at that desk was a semi-transparent little boy. He wore a scorched school uniform, clutching a carbonized book in his hands, frantically memorizing text by the light of ghost fire.

  [Ghost: The Scholar Wraith]

  [Obsession: Didn't test well / Didn't finish the problem]

  The livestream chat exploded instantly.

  [Chat: HIGH ENERGY AHEAD! Non-combatants retreat!]

  [Chat: The effects are insane! That semi-transparent texture is Hollywood level!]

  [Chat: Wait... what is he reciting? Is that the GRE vocabulary list?]

  John moved the camera closer, slowly.

  The little ghost ignored him completely. His eyes were glued to the book. He recited while crying, his tears hitting the pages with a sizzle.

  "Does he... really need to go this hard?" John muttered. "Still grinding even after death?"

  Grace sighed in the earpiece, beginning to educate her Western boss on the world.

  "Boss, you don't understand. In the far East, there is a hell mode called the 'Gaokao' (College Entrance Exam). It’s not just a test; it’s a single log bridge for millions of soldiers. It’s the only chance to change one’s destiny."

  "For these kids, testing poorly is scarier than death. This fear is something they can't forget even as ghosts. This is called... 'East Asian Involution'."

  John listened, stunned.

  Just then, the little ghost suddenly stopped reciting. He snapped his head up, his hollow eyes staring straight at the blackboard.

  "Math... I haven't finished the math problem..."

  He floated to the blackboard, picked up a broken piece of chalk, and began to write furiously.

  Scritch scratch scritch!

  Chalk dust flew.

  Lines of complex geometry and functional formulas appeared on the board.

  John glanced at it and felt dizzy. He was allergic to math.

  "What is he drawing? A magic circle?" John asked.

  But suddenly, the vibe in the livestream chat shifted.

  The messages screaming "Scary" or "Protection" disappeared. Replacing them was a crowd of viewers whose focus was clearly... elsewhere.

  [Chat (User 'Haidian Tiger Mom'): Wait! Streamer, hold the camera steady! That problem... that looks like last year's Science finals pressure question!]

  [Chat (User 'Grind King'): Holy shit! That auxiliary line is genius! His logic is clearer than my teacher's!]

  [Chat (User '5-Year Gaokao 3-Year Sim'): Oh my god! The book in the ghost's hand... if I'm not mistaken, is that the legendary 'Huanggang Secret Scroll · Out of Print Edition'?! That’s a god-tier book from ten years ago! You can't buy that anymore!]

  John stared at these bizarre comments, completely bewildered.

  "Five... Year Gaokao? Three Year Sim? Is that an incantation?" John asked Grace.

  "That is the source of nightmares for Eastern students," Grace translated with a solemn face. "Simply put, it is a collection of exercises that would make demons weep. In that cultural sphere, he who holds this book holds the keys to Heaven (University)."

  "And in the eyes of these parents..." Grace pointed to the barrage of messages now flooding the screen.

  [Chat: Master! Tell the ghost not to erase the board! My kid is taking screenshots!]

  [Chat: Streamer! Can you let him finish explaining this problem? I'll pay 500 Merit! No, 500 RMB!]

  [Chat: That's not a ghost! That's the God of Literature descending to earth! Quick, pray to him! Bless my son Zihan to pass his monthly exam tomorrow!]

  John watched as gift effects—Rockets, Yachts, and virtual Test Papers—exploded across the screen. He was dumbfounded.

  The eerie, terrifying paranormal scene had instantly turned into a... massive online tutoring session?

  These parents didn't care if it was a ghost. They didn't care if this was a haunted house. All they cared about were the problem-solving steps on that blackboard!

  "This..." John looked at the little ghost who was still crying while solving equations. Suddenly, the kid didn't seem scary anymore. He looked a bit... pitiful and cute?

  "Boss, opportunity!" Grace shouted excitedly from the backend. "Traffic is exploding! Merit Points are skyrocketing! The resentment of these parents (for their kids' grades) converts into 'Willpower' ten times stronger than normal viewers!"

  "Quick! Don't let him stop! Let him lecture!"

  John swallowed hard, bit the bullet, and shoved the selfie stick right up to the podium.

  He didn't look like an exorcist anymore. He looked like a teaching assistant.

  "Uh... excuse me, student," John tried to make his voice sound gentle. "Don't cry. The uncles and aunties in the chat say you're doing that problem really well. Everyone wants to learn from you."

  The ghost's hand paused.

  He slowly turned his head, tear tracks staining his pale little face.

  "Really?" The ghost's voice was timid. "Did I... did I do it right? The teacher always said I was stupid..."

  "Right! Absolutely right!" John pointed at the scrolling comments. "Look, everyone is calling you a Straight-A Student (Xueba)!"

  [Chat: Xueba! Awesome! That solution is killer!]

  [Chat: Kid, be confident! You're way better than my idiot son!]

  The little ghost looked at the glowing screen, reading the praise he had never heard in his life.

  In that moment, the red light (resentment) in his eyes began to fade, replaced by a faint, golden glow of validation.

  "I... I'm a Xueba?"

  The ghost wiped his eyes and straightened his back. He picked up the chalk again. This time, his hand didn't tremble.

  "Then... then let me explain the next problem to everyone. This one is about derivatives..."

  On the blackboard, the chalk danced.

  In the livestream, gifts rained down.

  John stood to the side, watching this scene, and a bizarre yet warm feeling surged in his heart.

  Turns out, the best way to eliminate fear isn't to destroy it, but to... turn it into a problem that must be solved.

  And for this crowd of crazed parents, as long as it raised test scores, they'd bring a notebook and listen even if the King of Hell himself was giving the lecture.

  [Message from Singularity]

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