A Guide for Background Characters to Survive in a Manga

The socially anxious Lan Subing nodded decisively, following her lead. The others gradually dispersed, leaving only the gentle-faced Li Shu standing alone.

“Ah, Su Bei? What an interesting person,” he mused softly.

Back in the dorm, Su Bei pondered for a moment before knocking on Feng Lan’s door. The other held a meal card, likely preparing to head out for lunch.

Just right, the two walked together. On the road, he asked bluntly, “Have you used your prophecy opportunity this month?”

“I’ve already made a prophecy,” Feng Lan said slowly, blinking. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, I’m just curious to see how you use this ability,” Su Bei replied.

His own powers were entirely fabricated from thin air, so naturally, he was curious about what it was like for someone who truly possessed the gift of prophecy.

Upon hearing this, Feng Lan shook his head. “Actually, it’s nothing special. Others describe it as me just closing my eyes and then receiving the prophecy.”

So that’s how it is? It seemed his own embellishments were far more extravagant. Su Bei nodded thoughtfully. “Can I know what your prophecy was about?”

Feng Lan shook his head, not out of secrecy, but simply said, “My ability is different from yours…”

At this point, his brow furrowed slightly, hesitating as he looked at Su Bei. “Come to my house during the Golden Sun Festival.”

The Golden Sun Festival began on November 11th each year and lasted for two days. On this day, everyone would showcase their harvests from the year, which is why the younger generation referred to it as the “Show-off Festival.”

How did the topic shift to this? Su Bei was somewhat surprised but still smiled and said, “Is this an invitation? I don’t mind at all, but why did you suddenly think to invite me to your home?”

“The Feng family is an old lineage of seers, with many books on prophetic abilities. I think you should take a look at them,” Feng Lan’s golden eyes were filled with earnest emotion. “However, once you go, the elders will definitely try to recruit you. If you’re unwilling, you can refuse directly.”

Whenever a new prophetic ability user appeared, the Feng family would actively seek to recruit them. This time, it was because Su Bei had initially concealed his powers, and also because the young master of the Feng family was in the same class, that they hadn’t approached him.

Joining the Feng family would come with constraints, requiring service to the family. But for a prophetic ability user, it wasn’t entirely a bad thing. After all, prophetic abilities were rare, and without guidance, one could easily tread on dangerous ground.

It was precisely because Feng Lan noticed Su Bei’s lack of understanding regarding prophetic abilities that he extended the invitation to his home.

Su Bei naturally understood Feng Lan’s hidden meaning; he had clearly realized how little Su Bei knew in this area, perhaps even that he had already crossed some taboo, prompting him to offer more information.

Though Feng Lan spoke plainly, Su Bei couldn’t help but feel a stir of emotion. Exclusive knowledge was precious, no matter where one was. Yet Feng Lan was willing to provide it freely, just to help him understand more about prophecies.

But alongside this stirring, Su Bei felt a vague strangeness. He and Feng Lan were barely friends, having known each other for just over a month. Even if friendships in youth novels often progressed rapidly, it didn’t seem likely for one to abandon family interests to selflessly offer to another, right?

After all, as the firmly established heir of the Feng family, Feng Lan was certainly not a pushover.

With this in mind, he directly asked, albeit in a half-joking manner, “So generous?”

If he were to be more explicit, he should have added, “You’re not interested in me, are you?” But he didn’t.

Necessary, as long as both sides can understand.

Indeed, Feng Lan understood, casting a glance at Su Bei that was laced with complexity: “It’s related to this prophecy.”

At this response, Su Bei found himself more intrigued by the prophecy of the month. What kind of prophecy could be tied to him, prompting Feng Lan to willingly share knowledge?

With this thought, he circled back to the previous topic: “What were you going to say? That my abilities differ from yours?”

This was the part left unsaid by the other.

Feng Lan gathered his thoughts and spoke anew: “To say they are different is true, yet also false. Prophecies can unveil the fates of others; the greater the prophecy, the more souls it touches. When I received this prophecy, fate had already begun to shift.”

Indeed, once one learns of a grand prophecy, even inaction becomes a form of response, and with response comes the potential for change.

“It’s manageable if only one or two fates are altered, but if a prophecy shifts the destinies of many, the cost is not merely the expenditure of mental energy.”

What that cost might be, Feng Lan did not say, but it was clear that altering too many fates would exact a heavy toll.

As he spoke, Su Bei understood the crux of their differences. His prophecies were trivial, while Feng Lan’s—though unspoken—were surely of a far greater magnitude.

Thus, Su Bei could share his prophecies without consequence, but for Feng Lan, the more who knew, the greater the unknown, and ultimately, the burden would fall solely upon him.

So that was it; no wonder Feng Lan felt Su Bei’s grasp of prophecy was woefully inadequate. Such knowledge, if not volunteered, would likely remain hidden until Su Bei stumbled into disaster.

A great family has its advantages, their foundation solid. Truth be told, had he possessed the resources of the Feng family earlier, guiding the forum would have been a breeze.

Yet, he would never join them; freedom was paramount to Su Bei, second only to life itself. Besides, he had his own troubles; joining them would be a betrayal of their kindness.

Returning to the point, Feng Lan’s invitation to his home was meant to broaden Su Bei’s horizons, in other words, to make him stronger. What kind of language could compel Feng Lan to wish for his growth?

Was it solely about him, or did it extend to others as well?

With this in mind, Su Bei decided to probe: “But what’s the point of inviting just me? Why not invite everyone from Class S? Your family wouldn’t mind befriending some promising ability users, would they?”

At this, Feng Lan pondered for a moment: “But I have no reason to invite them.”

The invitation to Su Bei stemmed from genuine need; inviting others couldn’t simply be framed as, “I’m feeling generous, come see my family’s library,” could it?

So, it truly was about everyone? Su Bei raised an eyebrow, subtly continuing to offer suggestions: “Isn’t it simple? What’s the purpose of the Golden Sun Festival? Just extend the invitation, and everyone will naturally catch the tune of your intent.”

The words spoken held a certain truth; inviting others to one’s home during the Golden Sun Festival was indeed a common practice, for it was a celebration of wealth, after all.

Though it was peculiar for Feng Lan to act in such a manner, the allure of the vast collection of books in the Feng household would surely entice others to accept the invitation.

As he spoke, Su Bei suddenly pondered within: “In the absence of my original plot, would Feng Lan invite Jiang Tianming and the others?”

The “comic consciousness,” aware that the question was directed at itself, contemplated for a moment before affirming, “Yes.”

Upon hearing this, Su Bei couldn’t help but chuckle: “Do not fret; opportunities will always arise.”

Feng Lan, being a prophet in his own right, was naturally sensitive to matters of prophecy. Hearing Su Bei’s words, he immediately inquired, “Is this something you foresaw?”

—

(Three-in-One)

After a moment’s thought, Su Bei nodded. He had indeed come to possess a prophetic ability, understanding well that prophecies were not easily conjured; they typically bore a lengthy cooldown. Thus, it would be illogical for him to waste a prophetic opportunity on such trivial matters.

Yet, he chose to nod nonetheless, curious if Feng Lan, upon learning this, could conjure a fitting rationale from his vast reservoir of knowledge.

If he could, Su Bei would have yet another chance to deceive his readers, bestowing upon himself a new ability.

Of course, if he could not, it mattered little; having dared to nod, he was prepared with a contingency plan.

Fortuitously, Feng Lan did indeed devise an explanation: “Do you often catch glimpses of prophetic fragments? Such occurrences indicate a high compatibility with prophetic abilities.”

This explanation offered little enhancement for Su Bei, but gaining even a glimpse of prophetic visions was a boon. He accepted, “You experience this too?”

Feng Lan nodded, for it was precisely because he shared this experience that he understood it better.

The next morning, the entire Jiang Tianming group arrived early at the auditorium. The award ceremony was set to commence at eight, and they had arrived half an hour in advance.

The waiting was always tedious, and suddenly, Mo Xiaotian spoke with an air of mystery: “I bet your progress in this team competition pales in comparison to mine.”

“How so?” Mu Tieren asked, curiosity piqued.

Mo Xiaotian beamed with pride: “My explosive cubes have grown immensely powerful! Not to say they could kill a person outright, but they could at least take out half of one.”

Wu Mingbai could hardly tolerate his smug demeanor, chuckling insincerely: “I’d say your greatest improvement lies in your ability to boast.”

“Half a person? What kind of nonsense is that?” Ignoring Wu Mingbai’s usual banter, Jiang Tianming chuckled. Observing Mo Xiaotian’s eager demeanor, he decided to indulge him, “Then why don’t you demonstrate for us?”

“Alright!” Mo Xiaotian eagerly responded, having awaited this moment, his eyes darting around before a hint of difficulty crossed his face. “But what should we use as the test subject?”

We can’t really blow someone up, can we?

“How about this?” Lan Subing whispered, holding up a sturdy-looking tin box. “This seems quite solid.”

Mo Xiaotian had no objections. He placed an explosive cube beside the box, which began to compress and brew…

At the front of the stage.

The host was passionately reciting his lines: “…we gather here… having overcome numerous challenges… Now, let us invite Class F’s homeroom teacher, Mr. Meng, to the stage for a speech.”

Meng Huai stepped onto the stage, his demeanor serious as he began reading from his script: “Hello everyone, I am Meng Huai, the homeroom teacher of Class F. This time—”

“Boom!”

A tremendous explosion erupted from backstage, causing everyone to freeze momentarily before chaos ensued. Meng Huai’s words halted, his mind racing with the thought: Could it be the ‘Black Flash’ has infiltrated the school?

With that thought, he joined the other teachers and a few leaders, heading towards the backstage, where he was met with flying shards of tin and the stunned figures of Jiang Tianming and others.

Veins bulged on Meng Huai’s forehead, a sentiment mirrored by the homeroom teacher of Class A. The two almost instantly locked onto the culprit, shouting in unison, “Mo Xiaotian!”

The criticism session had ended at ten in the morning, a grueling two-hour ordeal that left everyone dizzy, wishing their ears could simply vanish.

Su Bei was truly aggrieved; the topic was raised by Mu Tieren, the mockery was shouted by Wu Mingbai, the demonstration was requested by Jiang Tianming, the box was found by Lan Subing, and the explosion was orchestrated by Mo Xiaotian.

And what, in the end, did any of this have to do with him?

He was completely an innocent victim of circumstance!

Meng Huai paid no mind to Su Bei’s breakdown; in fact, if Su Bei voiced his inner grievances, he would only earn another round of criticism.

With a stern face, he led the disheveled and dejected Jiang Tianming and a few others, along with the rest, to the playground. “Alright, let’s begin class now.”

“We still have class?!” Mo Xiaotian wailed, thinking he could retreat to reflect after the criticism.

Seeing the despair etched on the faces of the others, a glimmer of amusement flickered in Meng Huai’s eyes. “You don’t have to attend, but missing a day of class will only widen the gap between you and the others.”

They were criticized, but Si Zhaohua and the others were not; not only did they escape censure, but they likely enjoyed quite a spectacle. Even now, Zhou Renjie wore a smug grin, as if he were savoring the misfortune of others. If Meng Huai hadn’t been present, he might have started mocking them outright.

This remark clearly struck a nerve with Jiang Tianming and the others, who fell silent one by one.

With their quietude secured, Meng Huai nodded in satisfaction and snapped his fingers. The arena for individual battles rose once more. Each person had their own platform, and a Night Beast was already waiting within.

Seeing everyone standing still, he sneered, “What are you dawdling for? Waiting for me to invite you up?”

As realization dawned, the group hurried to their respective platforms. During the team battles, Su Bei had already fought a Night Beast, so he was somewhat familiar with the process, easily defeating the first opponent.

However, as soon as the first Night Beast was vanquished, a second one appeared on the platform. Unlike the previous beast, which had merely been fast, this one resembled a gorilla and was clearly much stronger.

Defeated again, another beast emerged. This time, the Night Beast possessed a new ability, transforming into a liquid and moving with incredible speed.

“So this is how training works?” Su Bei murmured to himself. With each beast defeated, a new one appeared, and their abilities grew stronger. This not only tested their adaptability but also their endurance in battle.

Understanding this, he began to take it easy.

If defeating one beast only led to a stronger one, then he might as well take his time. Sometimes, standing out too much served no purpose other than making him a target.

But Su Bei wasn’t foolish; he knew that if he dragged things out all day, he would surely face reprimands afterward. So, he merely slowed his pace, defeating the Night Beast at half his usual speed.

By the time he lazily reached the sixth beast, the lunch break finally arrived.

As Su Bei stepped off the platform, he was nearly startled by the crowd outside, students gathered like spectators at a circus. The formation of Class S had already become common knowledge, and naturally, everyone was curious about the talents selected.

Among them were several familiar faces from Class F!

Su Bei calmly ignored their gazes, lowering his head to look at his classmates sitting on the ground. They all wore pale expressions, clearly exhausted from the strain on their mental energy.

In stark contrast, Su Bei appeared unchanged from before he entered the arena, save for a bit of physical fatigue.

After his gear attack successfully transitioned from a comic-inspired ability to one that was innate to his powers, the mental energy consumption had significantly decreased. Coupled with Su Bei’s already formidable mental strength, the entire morning’s exertion was hardly taxing for him.

But for the others, it was a different story; releasing mental energy continuously for a whole morning took a toll on them. This was precisely what Meng Huai aimed to train.

The moment Su Bei noticed the pallor on their faces, he realized he had made a mistake. In focusing on slowing down to coast through, he had forgotten to adjust his own expression.

Now, he was certain that Meng Huai would devise a new training regimen for him.

—

As expected, Meng Huai approached, waving his hand to signal the others that they could go eat. Then, just before Su Bei was about to leave, he called out to him, a smile that was neither here nor there playing on his lips. “Your mental strength is quite strong, isn’t it?”

As he spoke, he led Su Bei to a more secluded spot. Some things were best kept from the ears of others; with just the two of them, the conversation could flow more honestly.

Su Bei sighed inwardly but nodded openly, “It’s alright.”

“To what extent?” Meng Huai didn’t beat around the bush, knowing his student had plenty of ideas swirling in his mind.

Since the question had been posed, there was no need for concealment. Su Bei raised his hand, using his mental power to summon a nearby water bottle, which floated into his grasp. He shook it lightly at Meng Huai. “High-level mental strength.”

At this, Meng Huai’s expression shifted to one of rare surprise. High-level mental strength was notoriously difficult to attain; even many seasoned ability users struggled to master it. It required not only relentless training but also a significant amount of talent—both were indispensable.

How long had it been since Su Bei awakened? How had he already reached high-level mental strength?

Yet, Meng Huai didn’t press further. Everyone had their own secrets, especially those who stood out among ability users; who didn’t have a few cards up their sleeves?

“Well then, starting tomorrow, you’ll train with Mu Tieren and the others alongside me.” After a moment’s thought, Meng Huai proposed a new plan.

The previous arrangement had ultimately been about honing mental strength. Prolonged output of mental energy effectively increased one’s mental capacity while allowing the practitioner to become more adept at wielding it.

But since Su Bei already possessed high-level mental strength, such training was no longer necessary. Thus, Meng Huai decided to focus on physical techniques.

Though Su Bei’s physical skills were commendable, they still paled in comparison to Meng Huai’s. Moreover, the physical techniques of ability users differed greatly from those of ordinary people; their significantly enhanced physical attributes allowed for a broader range of movements.

When left to their own devices, one relied solely on instinct; with guidance, however, one could achieve twice the results with half the effort.

Through personal combat, Meng Huai understood each individual’s attack style, allowing him to tailor the training accordingly. From his perspective, aside from Mu Tieren, Feng Lan, and Zhao Xiaoyu, the others primarily relied on mental strength for their attacks.

Of course, this didn’t imply that physical techniques were unimportant for the others; it was simply more crucial to first adapt to mental strength.

Unexpectedly, Su Bei had leaped straight past the first stage and into the second.

Fortunately, teaching three people was no different from teaching four; it didn’t require much extra effort.

It seemed he couldn’t slack off any longer, Su Bei realized. Yet he felt no disappointment; physical techniques and mental strength were not the same. Even if his abilities faded after the comic ended, at least the skills of physical technique would remain.

In these few years at the Ability Academy, he couldn’t possibly leave empty-handed. He was a sensible person, and thus nodded readily. “I understand!”

—

As Su Bei stepped out from the hidden corner, the outside world lay deserted, clearly, the crowd had been drawn away by Jiang Tianming and his companions.

In a good mood, Su Bei decided to grab a meal outside the school. For students in Class S, returning home was forbidden unless one had taken leave. With the “Black Flash” lurking outside, venturing out was a perilous affair.

Yet, it wasn’t as if they were completely barred from the school gates; at least the snack street at the entrance was still accessible.

Afternoons were reserved for cultural classes, and everyone had to return to the classroom. Class S occupied a separate teaching building, rumored to house the second and third-year S classes as well, but they were still out in the field, so they were nowhere to be seen.

In the spacious classroom, everyone found their seats. Their seating arrangements revealed their personalities. Si Zhao Hua and a few others confidently claimed the front row, while Zhao Xiao Yu pulled the remaining two girls to sit in the second row, with Mo Xiao Tian joining them. Jiang Tianming and his group settled into the third row, while Su Bei, Feng Lan, and Wu Jin naturally took the last row.

It was rather peculiar that a mere fifteen students occupied four rows, yet they appeared relatively organized, so the teacher paid them no mind.

The cultural lessons in Class S were evidently more profound than those in other classes, with the first session dedicated to an in-depth introduction to the Nightmares.

“As you all know, Nightmares traverse from another world into a different space, ultimately arriving in our realm. But do you know what their original world is like?” The teacher posed the question to the class.

In any other class, this question would never have been raised. The original world of the Nightmares was too distant for them; discussing it would serve no purpose.

However, for these students brimming with potential, such an introduction was indeed necessary.

Si Zhao Hua and Feng Lan, hailing from families of significance, were aware of this secret but refrained from drawing attention to themselves at that moment. Mo Xiao Tian, ever the agreeable one, shook her head: “I don’t know!”

The teacher provided the answer: “Many of our predecessors with abilities have attempted to explore that space. According to them, it is a dim realm, where only black, white, and gray exist; even they lose their color upon entering.”

As the teacher continued, presenting a PowerPoint, they shared numerous details about that world, revealing that the happier one felt there, the faster their strength diminished.

This was intriguing news—was it true that the world of the Nightmares prohibited the birth of joyful emotions? Especially when combined with a detail Su Bei had previously noticed, it became even more fascinating.

From the teachers’ behaviors, Su Bei had sensed their intentional or unintentional avoidance of allowing students to experience negative emotions. Now, the connection to the Nightmares’ world and negative emotions was becoming clearer.

What was the link between them?

Su Bei vaguely realized that if he could uncover this connection, he might grasp the fundamental reason behind the imbalance in combat power.

As the class drew to a close, he pondered but chose not to pursue the matter further. The topic of Nightmares was extensive; they would likely spend the entire month discussing them, and he might eventually hear what he sought to know—there was no need to rush.

“I’m so tired from this morning’s training!” Mo Xiao Tian turned to lean on the desk of the wooden iron man, elongating her voice in complaint.

At her words, though the others did not chime in, they all felt a shared sentiment. One Nightmare attack after another had consumed the entire morning.