Fang Cheng gazed at the ancient bell, feeling the spiritual waves emanating from it.

He then slightly nodded, cooperatively lowering his head.

"Got it."

The young examiner held the helmet in both hands, placing it squarely on Fang Cheng’s head.

Then he adeptly pressed the metal buckle, tightening the chin strap.

The icy touch of metal conducted downward along his scalp.

"Ready."

Chen Bingzhong picked up a hammer from the table, raising his wrist slightly, suspending it beside the bell.

Without waiting for Fang Cheng to respond, the hammer suddenly fell.

"Dong——"

A sound, not booming but exceptionally muffled, expanded within the enclosed room.

This sound defied all acoustic logic.

It was as if it didn’t enter through the ears but penetrated the skull directly, exploding in the mind.

Fang Cheng felt sudden darkness before him, with the originally clear walls and lights around him beginning to warp and stretch violently.

At the end of his vision, the facial pattern on the bronze bell’s surface came to life.

The face abruptly opened its abyss-like mouth, emitting a soundless scream, transforming into a rotating black vortex.

Immediately after, a huge pulling force surged out, attempting to forcibly tear his consciousness away.

This level of mental disturbance might quickly produce a hallucinatory effect on ordinary people.

But with Fang Cheng’s outstanding Spirit Attribute of 70 points, it couldn’t truly shake his spirit.

If he wanted, he could sit in the chair like a rock, unmoved.

Yet, he didn’t forcefully resist.

After all, today was for interview assessment, not to cause trouble.

As a "Martial Arts Genius," if his Spirit Resistance appeared too weak, it would seem unjustified.

But if it appeared too strong, he could easily be mistaken as one of those dangerous spiritual mutants.

The most crucial part was to master the scale of disguise properly.

Fang Cheng glanced at the camera beside him, his heart slightly moved.

Immediately his brows furrowed, and his eyelids slightly trembled.

His fingers further curved, tightly gripping the metal chair’s edge, veins bulging on the back of his hand.

Perfectly portraying a martial artist struggling bitterly at the edge of reality and the Illusion Realm.

This tug of war lasted nearly ten seconds.

Until he caught the young examiner, in his peripheral view, displaying an unrestrained look of astonishment at the screen.

Only then did Fang Cheng completely relax his tense mental defense.

Then, following the pulling force, he let his consciousness fall, fully immersing into profound darkness.

"Whew..."

Fang Cheng’s head slowly drooped, his previously tense body gradually losing strength, reclining back against the chair.

His breathing quickly became long and rhythmic, the rise and fall of his chest leveled off, and his heart rate decreased accordingly.

He had clearly entered a profoundly deep sleep state.

"A promising candidate."

The young examiner looked down at the steadily progressing waveform on the tablet, unable to suppress his praise:

"Typically, special duty candidates last only two or three seconds once the bell rings before collapsing."

"He managed to withstand for ten seconds before entering a dream, and his vitals are recovering so smoothly afterward."

"This level of mental fortitude is absolutely the top among the hundreds here today!"

Chen Bingzhong’s gaze rested on the young man, whose sitting posture remained upright even while asleep, a rare genuine smile breaking across his face.

"Old Shi didn’t misjudge this time."

He mentally remarked, then picked up the steel pen nearby, decisively marking the score sheet:

"Award him, in the stress test dream stage, Grade A."

After finishing, Chen Bingzhong set down his pen, his gaze returning to the ancient bronze bell.

"What happens next depends on how much of his true nature he reveals deep within the Illusion Realm..."