A Guide for Background Characters to Survive in a Manga

Chapter 17

Su Bei seemed to pause, then lowered his eyes and shook his head, “No, I meant that newbie ability users aren’t very skilled with their abilities, so it’s normal for your prediction to be incomplete.”

Feng Lan didn’t press further, and Su Bei didn’t say more, turning back. He’d said that on purpose to make Feng Lan suspect his ability was prophecy-related.

Originally, since Feng Lan wasn’t a protagonist, Su Bei hadn’t planned to perform for him. After all, the spotlight followed the protagonists, and acting for others was a waste of effort.

But after reading the first chapter of the manga update, he changed his mind. Who said only protagonists got screen time? Meng Huai was a perfect example, wasn’t he?

Though his solo scene came from commenting on the protagonists, he also commented on others, didn’t he? Su Bei had benefited greatly from it, and surely many readers followed Meng Huai’s deductions.

Thus, he realized that leaving a deep impression on supporting characters, especially important ones, was also crucial. Since protagonists would definitely leave a strong impression on them, two people with strong impressions were likely to be evaluated together.

Seeing everyone had used their ability once, Meng Huai asked, “Did you feel the loss of any energy?”

“Mental energy!” Scattered replies echoed in the classroom, most students looking nonchalant. It was common knowledge, so they could answer without thinking, naturally assuming it didn’t need teaching.

Meng Huai sneered, suddenly raising his brows and shouting, “You think this is trivial? Remember this! The exhaustion you feel from using abilities extensively is an illusion caused by mental energy depletion. Your physical stamina isn’t actually drained.”

This was something no one, not even Su Bei, had considered. A thoughtful glint flashed in his eyes. He hadn’t realized there was such a truth behind this common knowledge.

Meng Huai continued loudly, “So, on the battlefield, if your ability is depleted, don’t forget you can still escape. No matter how tired you feel, believe it’s an illusion—you still have stamina left! Stand up, run! Understood?”

This was a true life-saving tip, one that could genuinely save them in danger. This time, everyone was convinced, answering loudly in unison, “Understood!”

Seeing they took it seriously, Meng Huai nodded, satisfied, and was about to continue when his phone pinged with a message.

As a teacher, he was professional, always silencing his phone before class. Only potentially important messages could bypass it.

So, upon hearing the ping, he promptly checked his phone. After reading with a frown, he glanced at Jiang Tianming and Lan Subing, then announced loudly, “Good, since you understand, now keep using your abilities until you’re completely exhausted and can’t use them anymore. Feel this sensation and distinguish it from true physical exhaustion.”

With that, he left the classroom.

Watching the teacher’s actions, Su Bei raised a brow, recalling Feng Lan’s words. Was the “argument” about to start?

Was it Meng Huai arguing with someone?

He was about to turn and ask Feng Lan’s thoughts when he saw Jiang Tianming and Lan Subing, in the front row, sneakily crouching and heading his way while the teacher was gone.

What were they up to?

After a moment’s confusion, Su Bei’s gaze inadvertently fell on the gear on his desk, and his expression changed.

Careless!

Normally, when using [Gear], he summoned the most ordinary gears. So when the teacher asked them to use their abilities, he instinctively summoned an ordinary one.

But his public persona wasn’t a true [Gear] ability—it was [Destiny]. Summoning such an ordinary gear clearly broke his character.

Judging by their approach, those two were likely here for this reason.

What to do? How could he explain to cover this flaw?

If the protagonist group doubted his ability, the readers, who saw through their perspective, might also grow suspicious.

To successfully redefine his ability, he needed most readers to believe him. If their votes split, it’d be tricky. Even if he later dispelled doubts with other methods, it would slow his pace significantly.

In mere seconds, Su Bei’s mind raced, but his expression returned to its usual calm composure.

Moments later, Jiang Tianming and Lan Subing approached, and as expected, the black-haired boy stared thoughtfully at the ordinary gear, “Why does this gear look so different from yesterday’s?”

“Why should I answer you?” Su Bei propped his chin with one hand, asking lazily.

“It’s like after-sales service, isn’t it?” Jiang Tianming paused, then quickly countered, “Yesterday was a legit transaction. Now I suspect there’s an issue with your product.”

Su Bei gave him a half-smile, not refuting. In truth, he needed a chance to explain, so he went along with it.

His gaze swept over the tops of their heads, “Because it’s missing something.”

Missing something? Jiang Tianming and Lan Subing almost simultaneously recalled Su Bei’s mention of the “fate compass” yesterday.

That made sense. The gear was a medium for fate. Without the aura of fate, it was just an ordinary gear.

“Call him out!”

Suddenly, an angry female voice came from outside the classroom, though it was too far to hear clearly.

Then came a commotion—footsteps mixed with faint arguing. The classroom had quieted at some point, everyone eager to gossip.

If not for Meng Huai’s intimidating presence these past two days, someone would’ve sneaked to open the door by now.

Su Bei glanced at the excited protagonist duo beside him, feeling both helpless and amused. These two were still gossiping, but if he wasn’t mistaken, they were likely part of the drama.

Sure enough, after listening for a bit, their expressions changed, and they stood abruptly. Lan Subing’s face was stern, “Wu Mingbai?”

Jiang Tianming nodded, brows furrowed, looking toward the door, “I think I heard him too.”

They headed to the door, peering through the glass window. In the distant hallway, several teachers were gathered, and the person in the middle seemed to be Wu Mingbai.

Without hesitation, they quietly pushed the door open, earning admiring looks from classmates.

“It was me who pushed him. If you want trouble, come at me. They didn’t even touch that person, so why are you targeting them?” The moment the door opened, Wu Mingbai’s angry voice came through.

Then came an unfamiliar female voice, “Please calm down, ma’am. We deeply regret Sun Ming’s death. But we’ve shown you the surveillance and evidence—this incident has nothing to do with the students. Please calm down.”

Almost as soon as she finished, another near-hysterical female voice rang out—the one they’d heard initially, “Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down? I raised my child through hardship, and he died just one day after coming to your school! I’ll make you all pay for his life!”

Next was a cold, sneering male voice, “Heh, we’ll avenge Mingming. If you can’t find the culprit, don’t blame us for turning ruthless. Mingming’s lonely on the road to the underworld—he’ll need company.”

“We’ll protect them,” Meng Huai said calmly.

But the man was dismissive, “You may think we can’t touch the Ability Academy, but targeting a few students is easy. If I’m not mistaken, this Wu Mingbai is an orphan, right? Mingming was a kind boy; I’m sure he’d love the kids at the orphanage.”

This was a blatant threat. If the school couldn’t find the culprit, they’d redirect their grief onto Wu Mingbai and the orphanage behind him. If Wu Mingbai couldn’t pay, the orphanage kids would.

Though rational people knew Wu Mingbai and the others were innocent, to the enraged Sun parents, grief didn’t need reason.

Having roughly grasped the situation, Jiang Tianming and Lan Subing couldn’t stay put. They pushed the door open and strode out. No matter what, they couldn’t let Wu Mingbai face this alone. Even if it meant facing retaliation, they’d stand together.

Seconds after they left, Meng Huai’s voice came from outside, “What are you two doing out here? Get back inside!”

But they stood firm, joining Wu Mingbai resolutely.

Meng Huai rolled his eyes in frustration, stormed back to the classroom, and glared warningly at the obviously curious students before slamming the door shut, cutting off the outside noise.

With the door closed, the classroom erupted in chatter as students discussed what they’d heard.

A student who’d been at the cafeteria yesterday shared the incident’s details, including the trio’s involvement.

Upon hearing they were merely the ones who discovered the crime and had passed a lie detector test, everyone felt deep sympathy. This was too tragic—purely a calamity from nowhere!

The parents were utterly unreasonable, but there wasn’t much they could do.

Sitting at his desk, Su Bei sighed. He knew the protagonist group would get dragged into this, but not in this way.

Just then, he felt someone watching him. Turning, he saw the class president, Mu Tieren, not far away.

The other boy was looking at him curiously and, upon meeting his gaze, approached without hesitation, “Su Bei, you heard what those people outside said, right?”

Unless deaf, everyone heard. Su Bei didn’t move, waiting to see what he wanted.

The upright Mu Tieren clearly disapproved of the people outside, his tone carrying dissent, “This might be abrupt, but I have to ask: do you have a way to deal with people like that?”

The question was indeed abrupt, given they’d barely interacted before. But with one scheming and the other willing, it felt perfectly natural.

“Of course—there is,” Su Bei chuckled lightly.

He was the best at handling such shameless rogues.