A Guide for Background Characters to Survive in a Manga

She had clearly promised to follow Su Bei’s lead from now on, yet she hadn’t considered that she should stick to his pace even in matters like this.

Not far away, Si Zhaohua sighed. He should have seen it coming; whatever made Su Bei so resistant was surely no trivial task.

“No way!” Qi Huang, who had been slumped over the table with Lan Subing, suddenly sat up. “I have to give it a try.”

She was truly fed up; having one more person suffer was always better.

Si Zhaohua was in perfect agreement. “Count me in.”

It’s worth mentioning that, unlike the trio of mutual sabotage with Jiang Tianming, Si Zhaohua, being quite loyal, didn’t drag Ai Baozhu and Zhou Renjie into this mess. But Su Bei, clearly, would not enjoy such treatment; Si Zhaohua was particularly eager to pull him into the fray of torment.

As the bell rang to signal the end of the first class on the first day, the two exchanged glances and, without a word, made their way toward Su Bei.

Su Bei, who had planned to doze off with his head on the desk, raised his head alertly.

Is there a murderous intent?

Qi Huang took the lead, her voice sharp as a blade: “Su Bei, didn’t you say you’d lend a hand when the student council was in trouble? Well, trouble has arrived. Are you going to help or not?”

At her words, Su Bei raised an eyebrow, lazily leaning back in his chair: “What trouble?”

Qi Huang couldn’t possibly reveal the truth; otherwise, Su Bei would reject her outright. But she couldn’t remain silent either, or it would only raise his suspicions.

At that moment, Si Zhao Hua chimed in, his tone casual yet calculated: “It’s about the recruitment of personnel.”

He added with a hint of emphasis, “The seniors from the first year are about to start their training.”

Upon hearing this, Qi Huang nearly clapped her hands in delight! Si Zhao Hua’s words made it sound as if they were merely seeking his assistance in recruiting first-year students for the student council.

Once Su Bei was involved, they could always say:

If Mo Xiao Tian fails, he’ll be advised to withdraw, which is indeed related to the student council’s recruitment, isn’t it? As for the latter part of the statement? Please, that was just a casual remark—who could have guessed you’d connect the dots?

With this thought, her eyes sparkled as she fixed her gaze on Su Bei, waiting for the fish to bite: “You will help, right?”

“Absolutely not.”

“That’s just splendid… huh? Why not!” One of them, ready to cheer, was left dumbfounded by the sudden refusal, looking utterly bewildered.

Su Bei regarded them with a smile that was neither here nor there: “Have you forgotten something? All first-year students are currently busy with midterm exams. Surely, even the student council wouldn’t be so cruel as to ask you to work during this time, would they?”

Now that was a glaring oversight! One of them widened their eyes, realizing they had been so focused on using the student council as leverage that they overlooked this basic fact. The student council wouldn’t seek their help at such a time, rendering their earlier claims moot.

Fortunately, they hadn’t yet exposed their true intentions; they could still…

Before they could concoct a new scheme, Su Bei tapped his fingers lightly on the table, speaking slowly: “You want me to tutor Mo Xiao Tian, don’t you?”

It was clear that the only thing capable of uniting these two in their quest for trouble was this very matter.

As expected, the moment he finished speaking, both Si Zhao Hua and Qi Huang froze in unison. Su Bei’s attitude was unmistakable; he had no intention of agreeing.

Seeing the futility of their efforts, Qi Huang slumped into the chair before him, her demeanor resigned: “If I were to ask you to tutor Mo Xiao Tian, what would it take?”

Even in this underhanded approach, Qi Huang refrained from uttering any moralistic platitudes about “students helping each other.” She despised such moral coercion and had no interest in it.

Su Bei shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips: “Not a chance.”

He wouldn’t go looking for trouble himself.！ ↑Back to Top↑

(Three-in-One)

Suddenly, Si Zhaohua’s eyes lit up: “How about this? After the midterm exams, the student council will definitely have tasks, and it’s said to be a big one that requires division of labor. You mentioned wanting to help before, so you can’t escape it. When the time comes, we’ll let you choose which task to complete, and the points will be the highest tier. If it’s not enough, we’ll make up the difference. What do you think?”

I must say, this was indeed a rather tempting offer. It was obvious that the upcoming student council task would be a plot point, and Su Bei’s role was to choose the most suitable stand within that plot.

After pondering for a moment, he asked, “Can you represent others?”

Before he could receive an answer, the crowd nearby, who had been eavesdropping, immediately chimed in unison: “Yes!”

This was the only chance to drag Su Bei into the fray, and they could even bring Feng Lan along; no matter how harsh the conditions, they would agree!

“Only this once?” Su Bei tilted his head slightly, not wanting to be roped into future tutoring sessions just because he agreed once. It had to be confirmed in advance.

Upon hearing this, Si Zhaohua knew there was definitely a chance. He nodded immediately: “Only this once!”

Seeing that there were no lingering concerns, Su Bei finally nodded: “Since you’ve asked sincerely, I shall be magnanimous…”

Just as he was halfway through his sentence, a sudden urgent interruption of “manga consciousness” rang in his ears: “Stop, stop! If you say any more, it’ll be copyright infringement.”

Su Bei nearly choked, coughing once: “Agreed!”

“Yay!”

After successfully pulling Su Bei and Feng Lan into the mix, everyone felt much happier. The power of Mo Xiaotian was such that even the indifferent Feng Lan and the cunning Su Bei couldn’t help but go a little crazy. This guy was truly like a goldfish; he could forget what he had just said in the blink of an eye. With questions that were just variations of the same thing, he wouldn’t even recognize them with an extra spice added.

The torment continued until the day before the midterm exams, and liberation was just around the corner. After finishing the last question, Su Bei let out a long sigh of relief, smiling as he threatened: “Forget the rest, but if you can’t pass this subject, just wait after the midterm exams.”

The small, weak hero Mo Xiaotian trembled under the shadow of the great demon king, weakly saying, “I… I’ll do my best.”

Su Bei continued to smile: “Not ‘do your best,’ but ‘you must.’”

Under his oppressive aura, Mo Xiaotian could only timidly utter a promise he wasn’t even sure of: “I will… I will.”

Perhaps because it was just a cultural subject exam, the midterm exams passed quickly, ending in the blink of an eye, without stirring much of a wave in the grade. It was only after the results were released that everyone paid attention.

First in the grade was Si Zhaohua, who truly excelled in every aspect. Second was Lan Subing, and third was Su Bei. Fourth was Qi Huang, and fifth was Jiang Tianming. It was shocking to see that the top five in the grade were all from Class S.

But the top five paid little attention to their own scores; they were all united in the search for one person—Mo Xiaotian!

At last, they found him. In 25th place, of course, counting backward. Upon seeing the report card, everyone was momentarily at a loss for words.

Joy was indeed present, for they had all passed, not having wasted their long efforts. Yet the issue was that each subject’s score was a mere 60 at the lowest, and 62 at the highest, such a dismal average.

The borderline scores left everyone feeling rather complicated.

Mo Xiaotian, however, seemed to harbor none of the complex feelings that others did. Upon seeing that he had passed, he leaped three feet into the air, exclaiming in excitement, “I passed! I actually passed! Awesome, Wuhu!”

Jiang Tianming pressed down on his head, forcibly halting his exuberance, his expression neutral: “I advise you to pay attention in class from now on, and don’t hesitate to pester the teacher with questions. We won’t be helping you next time.”

“Ah? Why not?!” Mo Xiaotian immediately wailed.

But all he received in response was the cold laughter of the crowd.

Previously, they had gone to great lengths to ensure this guy passed. They had noticed he struggled to understand many things and even tailored a set of questions specifically for him.

This time, many of the questions they had prepared had indeed appeared, some merely rephrased, while others had just altered values. If Mo Xiaotian could answer all those questions correctly, he would have secured at least an 80.

This average score of 60 only made them feel as if their efforts had been in vain; studying literature could not save Mo Xiaotian.

After the midterm exams, the weekend arrived, and when they returned to class, even in the hallways, one could faintly sense the restless atmosphere of the first-year students.

Su Bei naturally knew what was happening: the school festival was approaching. Of course, that was the romantic way to put it; in reality, the so-called school festival was merely an open day for the school.

The annual “Endless Abilities Academy” open day allowed parents of children attending classes here to visit. Additionally, those who received invitations could also come, typically outstanding alumni or prominent figures from the abilities community.

On this day, every class in the academy had to prepare something special, whether it be a performance, a mini-game, or running a stall. In any case, it was just like all the manga depicted, a rare and splendid campus event in their academic lives.

However, unlike ordinary schools, that night the school would also host an auction. But that had little to do with them; it was an affair for the adults.

Yet, such an event could not rely solely on the teachers to set up the venue; the student council also needed to participate. This was what Feng Manman had referred to as “being very busy,” and without a doubt, the entire first-year S class had been conscripted.

Now it was time for Si Zhaohua and the others to fulfill their earlier promise to Su Bei, allowing him to choose any task from among these duties.

There were security tasks, venue setup tasks, and guest reception tasks. The first was the most dangerous, the second the most laborious, and the third the most tedious—none of them were particularly appealing.

After some thought, Su Bei chose the guest reception task. Though it was bothersome, it was less likely to land him in trouble. Moreover, it was a perfect opportunity for him to meet people and at least get a sense of who the big shots were.

But before that, they still needed to complete their class’s task for the school festival.

The last class on Monday afternoon was a homeroom meeting. As soon as Meng Huai entered, he got straight to the point: “What do you plan to do for the school festival?”

Huh? They still had to create something? Weren’t they all conscripted by the student council? They really hadn’t thought about this at all.

Seeing the blank expressions on everyone’s faces, Meng Huai let out a cold laugh: “Every year, there’s a ranking after the festival. I’m not demanding you take first place, but my class has never come in last. If you make me break that record, I’ll break my own rule of not hitting students.”

As soon as he said this, the atmosphere shifted. Meng Huai had indeed spared them some face before, rarely landing a hit during practice. When he did, he would have Ye Lin help them heal, so they wouldn’t be embarrassed when they went out.

If Meng Huai stopped holding back, showing up at the cafeteria every day with bruises would be quite humiliating.

But avoiding last place was no simple task. As the only remaining members of Class S, they were bound to be a prime target for scrutiny.

If they kept things too ordinary, they could easily end up in last place; if they messed it up, that would be even worse. Even if they did well, there would still be someone ready to nitpick.

What to do was undoubtedly a conundrum.

Meng Huai didn’t care what they thought; he delivered his ultimatum and left.

After a moment of silence, Zhao Xiaoyu spoke up: “Let’s discuss what activity our class can present for the festival. Personally, I think we should rule out a performance. With such little time, finding a good script and polishing our acting skills is just too difficult. Besides, performances… there are too many subjective factors.”

Her words were subtle, but everyone understood the implication.

Jiang Tianming suddenly had a bright idea: “How about a haunted house? We can have people sign a contract before entering, and if they get scared, they have to vote for us.”

That idea was indeed clever. For other classes, such a method would never work; after all, who would want to enter if they had to sign a contract first?

But as the only Class S still in school, their title guaranteed they would have plenty of visitors, allowing them to use a more coercive approach. Fear was hard to disguise, and they weren’t worried about anyone backing out later.

Once the target was set, everyone began to think about their abilities and how they could contribute to the haunted house. After all, they were all endowed with powers; it would be a waste not to use them.

Su Bei’s ability wouldn’t be much use in this scenario; he could only choose to go in person and dress up as a ghost to scare people. Besides him, Feng Lan, Wu Jin, Jiang Tianming, Mu Tieren, Si Zhaohua, and Qi Huang were also reluctantly roped into this task.

Among them, Wu Jin was probably the most suited for the role; he would definitely be more professional at scaring people than the others, given that his ability was perfect for jumping out and startling someone.

The makeup work was entrusted entirely to Ai Baozhu, with Ling You assisting. It was rare for Ai Baozhu to encounter such a fitting task, and she confidently assured them: “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one recognizes you!”

Su Bei couldn’t relax; he didn’t want to be the clown! Help!!! Could someone save a poor 15-year-old high schooler? He actually cared quite a bit about his image!

The haunted house comes in both Eastern and Western styles, yet to truly specialize in one or the other requires a certain expertise, and invites scrutiny. Thus, a hodgepodge is far more fitting.

On the eve of the campus festival, preparations began in earnest.

Wu Ming had crafted a design plan beforehand; today, he raised earthen walls in accordance with it, partitioning the large classroom into several sections, creating a labyrinthine layout. Their recent venture into a maze-like alternate space had sparked a wealth of inspiration for constructing their own.

Zhao Xiaoyu smeared red paint across the walls, crafting the illusion of bloodstains, even pressing a few bloody handprints—at first glance, it exuded the essence of a horror film.

Mo Xiaotian placed air blocks along several paths, forcibly obstructing routes. This way, when their designated personnel engaged in a chase, it would be like adding wings to a tiger.

Indeed, they were not merely assembling an ordinary haunted house, but rather a deadly escape type. Su Bei and the others would play the role of the pursuing ghosts.

To ensure the players had a thrilling experience, they had even persuaded Meng Huai to break through the wall into the adjacent empty classroom. Now, they had the space of two full classrooms to work with; Su Bei estimated it to be roughly the size of four ordinary high school classrooms, allowing for a much grander maze.

At the crack of dawn the next day, Ai Baozhu began crafting their costumes.

Since Su Bei vehemently refused to dress as a zombie or any character that could be made to look grotesque, Ai Baozhu ultimately decided on a masked killer for him. With a mask, his face need not be revealed, thus sparing him the need for makeup.

Dressed in a black robe and wielding a bloodied dagger, Su Bei stood aside, looking quite dashing.

It’s worth noting that he had inquired about the “comic consciousness,” discovering that this terrifying character also existed in the real world—a rare instance of the two realms intertwining.

Seeing him ready, Zhao Xiaoyu approached to emphasize, “Don’t forget, your prop is a gun. If you get shot, you must fall.”

Indeed, these ghosts were not entirely in a position of advantage; each character had a corresponding extermination tool. Once a player acquired their extermination tool, they could temporarily eliminate them.

The extermination tools were also designed based on film content; the character he portrayed was one who met their end by gunfire, thus the countermeasure was, naturally, a gun.

Emerging from the makeup room, Jiang Tianming, now in zombie attire, wore a frown. Upon seeing Su Bei’s costume, his eyes widened, and he approached to poke at his mask, asking Ai Baozhu, “Why does he get to wear a mask?”

Ai Baozhu shrugged, “That’s what Su Bei requested. Hey, be careful when you move; don’t fling off that severed limb of yours!”

At this, Jiang Tianming turned back to Su Bei, “You couldn’t give us a heads-up?”

Su Bei mimicked Ai Baozhu’s shrug, pointing to Qi Huang, who had just stepped out behind him, “Smart people know to learn from observation.”

Following his gesture, they beheld a figure draped in white cloth, the fabric trailing to the ground, shrouding the entire person. Only the head remained visible, with two holes for eyes. Round and dark like black holes, they were both adorable and a touch terrifying.

Jiang Tianming turned back, his expression complex: “How did you know that was Qi Huang?”

Before Su Bei could respond, Ai Baozhu smiled and answered for him: “Do you think I would give anyone else a chance to appear without makeup besides Qi Huang?”

At eight in the morning, the campus festival officially began. Just as Zhao Xiaoyu and the others had predicted, a bustling crowd surged in front of their classroom, a sea of faces.

Having just established the first-year S class, they had undergone intense training and soon left the school for practical experience. Although many were curious about them, their homeroom teachers had strictly instructed not to disturb them. As a result, until now, not many had actually seen the new S class students.

But the campus festival was clearly a different matter; on this day, they needn’t worry about their old teachers causing trouble. They could freely visit the S class and enjoy the services of the favored children of heaven.

Typically, such events would see each grade visiting their respective S classes, but the second and third-year S class members were away for training, leaving only the first-year students to be subjected to their whims.

“Maze Battle Royale?” The earliest arrivals looked at the artistic lettering announcing the event at the entrance of the first-year S class, instantly intrigued.

Zhao Xiaoyu held a stack of papers, distributing them to the first five in line: “This maze can accommodate five people at a time. Please sign the contract before entering.”

Though they had previously agreed that this contract was merely for voting purposes, it couldn’t be too obvious. Thus, the contract was framed as a liability waiver, stating they wouldn’t be responsible if anyone got scared in the maze. Only at the bottom did it reveal the true purpose: if frightened, they must vote for them.

The first four didn’t notice the catch, but the fifth person caught sight of the clause: “Isn’t this a bit tyrannical? Just because we get scared, we have to vote for you? Aren’t you afraid your guests will leave?”

Upon hearing this, Zhao Xiaoyu calmly pointed behind him. The boy turned, only to see a long line of eager participants waiting behind him, leaving him speechless.

They truly weren’t worried about a lack of guests, especially since this liability clause greatly piqued their curiosity about the escape maze.

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Once they signed the contract, Zhao Xiaoyu handed each of them a heart rate monitor, claiming, “This is to protect you, to prevent you from fainting from a racing heart. If your heart rate gets too high, it will sound an alarm.”

In reality, the watch served as evidence that they had indeed been scared, preventing anyone from stubbornly claiming they hadn’t been frightened and thus refusing to vote.

Behind the door, Wu Mingbai couldn’t help but chuckle: “That sounds so convincing; if I didn’t know the truth, I might actually believe it.”

The first group of five entered, stepping into the maze’s entrance. As soon as they turned, one timid soul screamed, “Ah!”

Beside the door stood a faceless figure in a suit, with several writhing tentacles behind him. This was Wu Mingbai, playing the role of a tall, shadowy specter.

However, Wu Mingbai had no intention of moving; he merely manipulated the tentacles disguised with colored clay, tapping on the door panel. The others followed his gesture and noticed a paper with writing affixed above.

“In the maze, many ghosts will chase the players. They lurk in the corners, scattered with various props. Some can deal with specific ghosts, while others are cursed. Please be cautious when picking them up.”

Caught by the specters, instant elimination; escape the labyrinth, and victory is yours. The victors shall receive the carefully prepared little gifts we have in store.”

Confirming their understanding, the suited Wu Mingbai inclined slightly, a strange yet gentlemanly gesture, extending his hand in a motion of invitation.

One bold soul suddenly raised a hand and asked, “Can we use our powers to attack while being pursued?”

Wu Mingbai shook his head, tearing down the paper affixed to the door and flipping it to reattach it. The reverse bore words as well—“Attacking staff is prohibited; violators bear the consequences.”

During the game, a few players indeed lost control and attempted to lash out at the staff, but it was clear they did not intend harm; in moments of stress, instinctive self-defense can take over.

For these individuals, they refrained from retaliating, merely sidestepping the blows. It was only those who struck with intent that required a lesson.

As expected, their class event was a resounding success, primarily because few had ever hosted a survival maze during the campus festival. Compared to other attractions like maid cafés or ordinary haunted houses, they naturally held an edge in novelty.

Moreover, such face-to-face survival games inevitably sent adrenaline surging. This thrill was easily mistaken for fear, and those who honored their promises would surely cast their votes for their class.

Zhao Xiaoyu and the others placed the ballot box directly at the exit; those who chose not to vote had to provide a reason on the spot.

At noon, Su Bei, Mu Tieren, Wu Mingbai, and Jiang Tianming left the classroom together. In the afternoon, they would no longer play the role of the specters, allowing for free time.

A few others in the class had also switched out, but they had gone to accompany their families, leaving only the four of them as solitary souls together.

Su Bei took note; only they four had no parents present, even Mo Xiaotian had a grandfather visiting. Though this grandfather might not have been his true appearance, Su Bei firmly etched that face into his memory.

As they walked through the bustling campus, Su Bei found himself momentarily dazed. He had participated in several small-scale events, both in elementary and middle school, but none left an impression as profound as high school.

This wasn’t due to the brilliance of the activities prepared or the strength of his involvement, but rather because, compared to elementary and middle school, he had spent the first half of high school in a state of constant tension. In this blend of joy and anxiety, the everyday moments became all the more memorable.

With this thought, Su Bei let out a long sigh. Though now filled with joy, he knew the evening would bring a return to busyness.

An auction, treasures to behold. It was obvious that trouble would arise during this auction. He could only hope that the trouble wouldn’t be too perilous, especially not for him. His task was to entertain the guests; as long as he stayed close to the esteemed visitors, he should be safe from major issues, right?

Yet, that was uncertain; who knew whether the enemy’s target would be the auction items or the guests themselves?