Chapter 5
Jiang Tianming returned to his seat, and Lan Subing, with a slightly hoarse voice, quietly asked, “What’s with that guy?”
As a severe social recluse, she could only manage to speak with people she knew well.
“Not sure, but he doesn’t seem malicious,” Jiang Tianming replied. As an orphan, he was keenly sensitive to human malice. “Let me think about what he meant by that line.”
It did require careful thought. If the other party meant to convey something, it was surely hidden in that sentence. Lan Subing nodded. “I’ll look into him when I get back.”
Though students at the “Endless Ability Academy” were required to board, the school didn’t prohibit contact with the outside world.
The “Lan Corporation” wielded significant influence, so checking someone’s identity wasn’t difficult.
“Sounds good.” It was indeed necessary, and Jiang Tianming never hesitated to leverage his friends’ strengths. A pragmatist, his years as an orphan, alongside Wu Mingbai, left him with little insistence on doing everything himself.
Having said those few words, Lan Subing reached her limit and promptly fell silent, feeling she’d resolved the issue. She was mentally preparing for the inevitable self-introduction segment at the start of every school year—a veritable ordeal for a socially anxious girl who hadn’t figured out how to face it.
Meanwhile, Jiang Tianming closed his eyes, pondering Su Bei’s words.
—“On behalf of destiny, I salute you, this year’s unluckiest soul.”
What did that mean?
The literal interpretation was straightforward: he was calling himself the unluckiest student in this year’s batch at the “Endless Ability Academy.”
For the other party to say it so confidently, even invoking “destiny,” their ability likely had to do with fate—at the very least, something like reading someone’s luck.
But would such an ability land someone in Class F?
Almost impossible!
From what he—or rather, the “Lan Corporation”—knew, the “Endless Ability Academy” was strict about class assignments. Generally, low-level abilities weren’t allowed in high-level classes, nor were high-level abilities permitted in low-level ones.
The former was to avoid wasting teaching resources and ensure students could keep up. The latter was to prevent delaying a student’s potential or risking harm to lower-class students.
In short, switching classes was nearly impossible.
Unless, like himself, someone was unlucky enough to have an issue during the pre-enrollment ability test, where only the presence of an ability was detected, not its specifics, landing them in Class F.
Or someone like Lan Subing, an outlier with a [Word Spirit] ability that could qualify for Class A, but whose severe social anxiety prevented her from speaking, rendering the ability unusable.
The school, considering her wishes and her family’s influence, plus her ability to speak a bit more with familiar people, allowed her to join Class F.
Wu Mingbai had no such privilege and was assigned to Class D. His ability needed refinement, and forcing his way to Class F would have been counterproductive.
Back to the original question: if Su Bei truly had a fate-related ability, his presence in Class F likely meant he had big plans. And the key might lie with Jiang Tianming himself—otherwise, why would Su Bei approach him with such a statement right away?
Did he discover my secret?!
The thought made Jiang Tianming frown, but he quickly relaxed.
Judging by Su Bei’s attitude, he probably hadn’t seen through Jiang Tianming’s true ability. Maybe he only saw something like luck, and Jiang Tianming’s luck was indeed… well, pretty terrible.
Becoming friends with Lan Subing and Wu Mingbai was the only bright spot in his otherwise bleak life.
But if Su Bei didn’t have a special ability, his motive for approaching Jiang Tianming with that line was equally intriguing.
Could it be about his background?
As an orphan, Jiang Tianming was naturally curious about his biological parents. If someone who knew them recognized him through his appearance or prior investigation, they might say something like that.
But if so, it was likely bad news. What kind of parents would lead someone to call him an “unlucky soul”?
Forget it. He’d wait a month and see.
A month from now, the academy would retest abilities and potential, and no mismatches would be tolerated.
If Su Bei left Class F then, it’d mean he likely saw something through his ability. If he stayed, Jiang Tianming would need to consider the second possibility.
Meanwhile, the classroom buzzed with small groups of students chatting, but Su Bei’s corner was quiet. The classmate behind him was sleeping, and anyone with a bit of tact wouldn’t approach.
To maintain his air of mystery, Su Bei wouldn’t speak up either. Likewise, to avoid overlapping with the big shot in the back, he couldn’t nap on the desk.
After some thought, he turned to the window, earnestly taking in the scenery.
Soon, a man over 1.9 meters tall with an impressively chiseled physique walked in. He wore a plain black T-shirt, but his muscular frame made it look like a tight-fitting one. His cargo pants also seemed snug.
Around thirty, with black hair and blue eyes, his sharply defined features and deep-set eyes gave him a mature, handsome charm.
But he clearly had no intention of tidying up to make a good impression. His stubble was unkempt, his slicked-back hair messy, showing no awareness of the new semester’s fresh start.
Yet, this very roughness gave him a wild, untamed beast-like allure, exuding overwhelming charisma.
His eyelids drooped, looking like he’d just woken up and lacked energy. He reached the podium, pulled out the chair, sat down, and crossed his legs like a boss. “I’m your homeroom teacher, Meng Huai, also the PE teacher. Go up one by one and introduce yourselves, starting with the first person by the door.”
The student in the first seat of the first row by the door was a girl. The moment Su Bei saw her appearance, he perked up.
In manga or novel worlds, a pretty character like her was unlikely to be cannon fodder.
Well, usually. Otherwise, how had he ended up as cannon fodder?
“Hi, everyone. I’m Zhao Xiaoyu. My ability is…” She paused, glancing at Meng Huai. “Teacher, do we need to share this?”
Meng Huai said indifferently, “Up to you, but you’ll have plenty of cooperative and competitive tasks later.”
Zhao Xiaoyu quickly made up her mind and said generously, “My ability matches my name: [Laughter]. I like running, and I’m good at Chinese. Thanks, everyone. I look forward to working with you.”
She clearly prioritized Meng Huai’s mention of “competitive” tasks, so she didn’t elaborate on her ability. Another possibility was that she was confident she wouldn’t team up with Class F students, so she saw no need to share more.
The first introducer often set the tone. After her, everyone else, for whatever reason, followed suit, only stating their ability’s name without details.
The assembly-line introductions finally reached the protagonist. Jiang Tianming stepped onto the podium, drawing the class’s attention. His black hair and eyes stood out in this manga world, and everyone was curious about his ability.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Jiang Tianming. My ability is [Summon].”
Su Bei, having read the first volume, knew his ability was [Death Summon]. He’d omitted the first two words.
[Summon] sounded vague, and it was indeed a broad category of abilities. Strong ones, like the protagonist’s, could summon spirits, while weak ones, like Su Bei’s, could only summon gears.
So, when Jiang Tianming said his ability was [Summon], no one was particularly surprised, assuming he was too embarrassed to specify what he could summon.
But Su Bei understood why he didn’t clarify. First, he didn’t want to draw attention in the class during this month. Second, he was confident he’d leave Class F after a month, so he saw no need to reveal much.
However, knowing manga tropes, Su Bei doubted he’d leave Class F easily. A protagonist in the bottom-tier class was a great hook, and the author wouldn’t likely pass up such a selling point.
So, barring surprises, during the reclassification in a month, Jiang Tianming and Lan Subing probably wouldn’t leave. Not just them—Wu Mingbai, currently in Class D, might even end up in their class due to plot momentum.
After Jiang Tianming stepped down, there was a brief pause.
Meng Huai raised a brow, glanced at the roster, and a knowing look flashed in his eyes. He deliberately called out loudly, “Lan Subing? Come up and introduce yourself!”
Startled by her name, the blue-haired girl, who was quietly trying to wrap her scarf tighter, trembled and stood up, instantly drawing the class’s attention.
Her face flushed red, her lashes fluttered, and she bit her lip lightly, her hands unconsciously clutching her skirt. Too flustered to pick up her fallen scarf, she scurried to the podium’s center under Meng Huai’s commanding gaze, looking like a tiny quail.
Meng Huai’s expression softened. “Alright, introduce yourself.”
The students below curiously sized her up. It wasn’t just her silky long hair, striking water-blue eyes, or fair, rosy skin—her appearance alone was enough to draw attention.
Under immense pressure, Lan Subing stiffened, bowed deeply, then reached with trembling hands into the chalk box on the podium. After fumbling, she gripped a piece of white chalk.
Taking a deep breath, she turned, stood on tiptoe, and wrote three large characters on the blackboard—Lan Subing. The elegant, refined script wouldn’t look out of place on a million-dollar contract, clearly practiced.
As she tried to put down the chalk and flee, Meng Huai reminded her with a headache, “Your ability.”
Lan Subing’s face burned, her ears visibly red under her blue hair, like a timid hamster dragged onto a stage. Yet, forced to perform, she wrote two words: [Word Spirit]