A Guide for Background Characters to Survive in a Manga

Chapter 33

The night before the individual battles of the monthly exam, the official site had already released the match schedule.

On the first day, everyone only needed to compete in one round. My opponent was a Class C student.

His ability was listed in the intel: [Rubber Man], which allowed him to turn his body into rubber, greatly increasing his toughness.

Honestly, with this ability, he could have been placed in Class B, but the school likely thought he needed more training, so they assigned him to Class C.

When I saw this opponent, a wry smile crossed my face. I really shouldn’t have overestimated the luck of a cannon fodder like me.

With Classes C, D, and F totaling 200 students, I somehow managed to face one of the opponents I most wanted to avoid.

This luck was truly something else.

This ability was extremely disadvantageous for someone like me, who planned to rely on combat skills.

After all, he could easily perform movements the human body couldn’t, making techniques like over-the-shoulder throws nearly ineffective against him.

Moreover, his rubberized body meant he wasn’t easily injured, as that elastic material wasn’t easily cut.

Though I thought this, I didn’t hesitate to bet my points on myself. If I didn’t even believe in myself, I might as well forfeit.

Our match probably wouldn’t attract much attention, so not many would bet. But my opponent would likely bet on himself, so as long as I won, I’d at least earn his points.

After placing my bet, I couldn’t help but ask: “‘Manga Consciousness,’ is my bad luck just part of me, or is it because of my cannon fodder status?”

Though my luck had never been great, it hadn’t been this bad, had it? Out of 200 students, only about a dozen were worth worrying about, yet I faced one in the first round?

Manga Consciousness couldn’t help but sigh at my rotten luck: “The peak of your bad luck was the moment you were killed by the murderer. But after being saved, your luck will gradually return to normal levels. This process might take six months to a year, so…”

So I was currently unluckier than usual, which explained why I faced this awful situation in the first round. I could already imagine facing an all-Class-A lineup by the third day.

For now, I needed to figure out how to defeat that Rubber Man. Lying in bed, pondering, I gradually drifted into sleep.

The next day, the competition officially began. The school divided the sports field into ten 20x20-meter arenas, spaced five meters apart, allowing ten matches to happen simultaneously. Two referees stood on the main platform, each overseeing five arenas.

I was in the third round, and my turn came quickly. Since I was the first in the protagonist group to compete, Jiang Tianming and the others were in the stands cheering for me, though I didn’t really need it.

Standing on the arena, the green-haired boy across from me casually manipulated his body with his ability, showing off to intimidate me.

Yes, manipulated. He twisted his body into an S-shape, then a C-shape, flaunting his freedom of movement.

While doing this, he loudly tried to persuade me to surrender: “If I remember right, you’re a Class F student, yeah? Just forfeit. Saves us both the trouble. You lose today, you get a four-day break. How great is that?”

Seeing his relaxed demeanor, I raised an eyebrow, a glint of realization in my eyes. I suddenly understood why an ability that should’ve landed him in Class B was stuck in Class C.

I put on a shocked expression: “Is this your ability? That’s amazing! You can change into so many shapes!”

At that, the green-haired boy grew smug, twisting his arm a few more times to show off: “Of course! Not to brag, but after this monthly exam, I’ll probably be moved to Class B. You’re out of luck facing me. Just forfeit, or you’ll get hurt later.”

But I shook my head, feigning difficulty: “I don’t really want to compete either. My ability… well, being in Class F tells you it’s not much use. But our class teacher is strict. If I forfeit outright, I’ll definitely get punished after the exam.”

This made sense. Though the green-haired boy hadn’t been to Class F, he’d seen our burly teacher. Meng Huai looked like the Spartan type who’d physically discipline students.

Thinking I was considering surrender, the green-haired boy relaxed even more. Of course, he could afford to be relaxed because he didn’t think a Class F student could cause any trouble.

“So what do you want to do? Fake a match?”

“No need for that hassle.” I shook my head, acting like I was looking out for both of us. “Just use your ability to perform a few highly aggressive moves. Our teacher will see how dangerous your attacks are and won’t have any issue with me conceding.”

The green-haired boy thought it made sense and agreed readily. He activated his ability, coiling his body like a snake into a large circle: “See this? This is my coiling technique. It can wrap someone up like a snake, restraining them until they suffocate.”

He quickly deactivated his ability, his face pale, forcing a casual look as he turned to me: “Now you can forfeit, right?”

“Let’s shake hands to end the fight peacefully.” I smiled, nodding, and walked toward him.

But the green-haired boy wasn’t a fool. He immediately grew wary: “Wait! Stay right there! I don’t want to shake hands!”

Would I listen to him? Seeing he wasn’t easily fooled, I decisively sped up, charging forward. Each step covered three meters, and I reached him in an instant.

Before becoming an ability user, the green-haired boy was just an untrained ordinary person. He couldn’t react in time and was grabbed by me, thrown over my shoulder without mercy.

He instinctively tried to activate his ability to save himself, but his earlier performance—especially that last move—had drained most of his mental energy.

His weak mental energy was exactly why he was in Class C. If not for his poor stamina, he wouldn’t have shown off his ability earlier to scare me off, fearing I’d drag out the fight.

He’d been tricked!

Only now did he realize my earlier request for him to perform was malicious. Had he known, he would’ve used [Rubber Man] to throw me off the arena while his mental energy was still sufficient.

Instead, he tried to save energy by intimidating me into leaving, only to be outmaneuvered and left powerless to mount an effective attack.

Without his ability, he was like fish on a cutting board to a well-trained me.

But it was too late for regrets. After being thrown to the ground, the green-haired boy felt dizzy, as if he’d spun several times.

When he came to, he was standing below the arena. The referee had arrived at some point and declared my victory.

“How could you!” The green-haired boy, pale from overusing his ability, flushed with anger, his cheeks unnaturally red, looking somewhat sickly. He pointed at me on the arena, furious: “You cheated!”

“All’s fair in war.” I leisurely descended the arena stairs, winking at him in good spirits: “Thanks for the win and the points, classmate.”

At that, the green-haired boy suddenly remembered the 20 points he’d bet on himself—15 from three weeks of classes and 5 from helping a teacher.

“Ah! My points!” He let out a miserable cry, kneeling on the ground in true manga fashion, his expression pained as he looked skyward: “We’re enemies for life!”

I: “…”

Enough, I said enough! I was truly fed up with this manga world!

But alas, no one else found this scene odd. Mo Xiaotian completely ignored the green-haired boy, rushing to my side first: “Su Bei, you’re amazing! You handled a Class C student effortlessly!”

Though he was from Class A himself, he showed no disdain for my achievement, instead looking at me with admiration.

Jiang Tianming glanced amusedly at the green-haired boy, still wallowing in his first-round upset, and walked over: “You’re too good at riling people up. If he keeps sitting there, what’s your plan?”

I glanced at the green-haired boy, smiling brightly: “You lose today, you get a four-day break. How great is that?”

Hearing this, the green-haired boy felt a sense of familiarity. Moments later, he realized—these were the words he’d said to me on the arena!

He was instantly enraged, both ashamed and furious, his face red. Jumping up, he pointed at my nose: “You, you, you, you, you—”

He “you’d” for a while but couldn’t find words.

I turned to Jiang Tianming, raising an eyebrow: “See? He’s up.”

“Hahahahaha!” Wu Mingbai laughed so hard he seemed brainless. “Learned something, learned something. Truly a great method!”

It wasn’t clear if he meant learning how to defeat an opponent or how to rile someone up.

Lan Subing, with a refined expression, gave me a thumbs-up, but I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination—I seemed to sense her inner cheering.

The most normal person present was definitely Class Monitor Mu Tieren. He patted my back with appreciation: “That over-the-shoulder throw was solid. Let’s spar sometime.”

I nodded eagerly. Since coming to the Endless Ability Academy, I hadn’t sparred with anyone in a while. With Mu Tieren’s physique and ability, he’d be a great partner, even if untrained—especially since he was trained.

Feng Lan waited until the others dispersed slightly before approaching. After a moment’s thought, he asked: “Were you holding back?”

I froze, not immediately understanding why he’d think that. Then I remembered the first day of running laps, when I told him I ran slowly to conserve stamina. It clicked what he meant.

This was tricky to answer. This segment might end up in the manga. If I flipped later, I’d be publicly humiliated. Better stick to the old tactic. I gave a cryptic look: “Guess.”

Soon after, it was Feng Lan’s turn to compete.

As expected, the protagonist group’s matches were scheduled later. The later the match, the more people would bet, since their own matches would be over, and only a few matchups would remain, naturally attracting more bets.

Feng Lan’s opponent was a Class D student. If I remembered correctly, their ability was [Sharp Tongue], which could harden their tongue significantly. It wasn’t very damaging but was quite disgusting.

However, as long as you kept their head at a distance, it was useless—hence their Class D placement.

On the surface, Feng Lan didn’t seem to have much attack power either. His physical condition was decent, but having run with him for so long, I knew he hadn’t systematically trained in combat skills.

Clearly, his family was the typical type that believed abilities trumped everything, dismissing ordinary human techniques. They made him exercise purely to boost mental energy, not to learn mundane self-defense or attack methods.

In this scenario, he and his opponent should be evenly matched.

But I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. If Feng Lan, the Prophet, was only on par with a Class D ability user, what prestige would he have?

So I was very interested in this fight. Just as Feng Lan was curious about my hidden cards, I was curious about his.

I wasn’t the only one intrigued. Not only did the protagonist group show up, but Si Zhaohua and his team did too.

Enemies meeting on a narrow road, both sides glared at each other, neither side treating the other kindly. But they didn’t bicker under the arena, avoiding making a spectacle.

Unexpectedly, Zhao Xiaoyu and Wu Jin were there too. The moment I saw them, I knew I’d guessed right—they had indeed joined Si Zhaohua’s team. They were probably here to check out their team battle teammate’s strength.

The arrival of several Class A students drew a crowd. I quickly logged onto the official site with my phone and placed a bet—every point counted.

Soon, the fight began. The Class D student knew their ability wasn’t very useful, so even against a Class F ability user, they showed no complacency. They cautiously circled Feng Lan, looking for an opening.

But to everyone’s surprise, Feng Lan was the proactive one. He walked straight toward the Class D boy, startling him into retreating repeatedly while shouting warnings: “Don’t come closer! If you do, I’ll attack!”

Unfortunately, his warnings had no effect. Feng Lan continued to approach steadily.

Finally, the boy couldn’t hold back. He lashed out, throwing a punch at Feng Lan’s face. His punch was fast, and at such close range, it had a high chance of landing.

But before the boy could feel smug about his surprise attack, Feng Lan casually tilted his head, dodging the punch. The boy nearly stumbled from the momentum.

If it were me, I’d have kicked back at that moment, maybe not knocking him off the arena but at least disabling him temporarily to secure the win.

But Feng Lan lacked that combat instinct. He just slowly turned, waiting for the boy to regain his footing. The Class D boy, seeing his leisurely movements, felt mocked and flew into a rage.

He clenched his fist again, charging at Feng Lan. This time, as he prepared to punch, he also swung a leg to trip the white-haired boy who’d embarrassed him.

To everyone’s shock, something unexpected happened again. Just as the fist was about to hit his face, Feng Lan lightly tilted his head, simultaneously stepping back, evading both the upper and lower attacks perfectly. The Class D boy, with both attacks dodged, fell flat on the ground.

This time, he finally realized something was wrong. Two failed attacks made him understand the gap between him and this white-haired boy was significant.

After hesitating, he stood up: “You’re too strong. I forfeit. Let’s go down together.”

Feng Lan nodded calmly and walked with him toward the stairs. Just as they reached the staircase, the Class D boy behind him suddenly showed a sinister expression, placing both hands on Feng Lan’s back and pushing hard!

Baozhu, noticing this from below, let out a gasp. But the arena had isolation measures, so those on it couldn’t see or hear the audience, preventing cheating via crowd cues.

Many thought the Class D boy was about to succeed, that Feng Lan would flip, when Feng Lan suddenly sidestepped, clearing the exit.

The Class D boy, unable to react, tumbled awkwardly down the stairs due to his own force.

When Feng Lan descended, the referee arrived to announce: “Feng Lan wins!”

I watched Feng Lan thoughtfully as he approached. Now I knew what he relied on.

I hadn’t expected [Prophecy] to have such a function, predicting events a few seconds ahead. Otherwise, how could an untrained Feng Lan dodge every attack like he had foresight?

And judging by his unfazed expression after the match, this ability’s mental energy consumption was definitely low.

An extremely powerful close-combat ability—kind of a waste. I concluded, glancing at Si Zhaohua and his group crowding around Feng Lan. After a moment’s thought, I sent him a message.

[EastSouthWest: I think you should systematically train in close-combat skills.]

After sending it, I turned to Jiang Tianming: “Who’s next? The Class Monitor?”

Mu Tieren said: “I’m in the twentieth round. It’s coming up.”

Sure enough, it was him next. Compared to the others’ fights, Mu Tieren’s was exceptionally quick. His opponent was a Class F student. He walked over, picked them up, and carried them off the arena, wasting no time.

“Is this absolute strength?” Lan Subing muttered, glancing at her own arm. I had a feeling her next line would be, “Should I train too?”

This startled Jiang Tianming and Wu Mingbai, who each grabbed one of her arms. Jiang Tianming earnestly advised: “You’re a mage, specializing in magical attacks. Don’t try to be a warrior like the Class Monitor.”

Wu Mingbai nodded vigorously: “Tianming’s right. We support you training, but becoming like the Class Monitor is unnecessary.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mu Tieren laughed, half-scolding: “I think I heard some discriminatory remarks.”

At that moment, I noticed Wu Jin taking the stage. His opponent was a Class C student, looking confident of victory.

I raised an eyebrow, an idea forming. I walked over slowly, deliberately making my footsteps audible, not hiding my presence.

Jiang Tianming and the others instinctively followed. When we reached Wu Jin’s arena, Wu Mingbai asked, puzzled: “Why are we here? Do you know someone up there?”

“That guy’s probably on Feng Lan’s team,” I said, pointing at Wu Jin, then adopting a spectating stance. “He’s also part of the team you guys don’t get along with.”

Jiang Tianming glanced at Wu Jin, who had medium-length purple hair and thick glasses. Despite his distinctive style, he was oddly unnoticeable.

Recalling he was from Class F, Jiang Tianming was surprised: “He’s in our class, right? I think his name’s Wu Jin. I haven’t spoken to him since the term started.”

“Neither have I,” Mo Xiaotian raised his hand, looking a bit dejected.

If even he hadn’t managed to talk to Wu Jin, that was some serious aloofness. Lan Subing nodded sagely, whispering: “Feels even quieter than me.”

While they talked, Wu Mingbai closely observed the match. Wu Jin kept muttering something, running around the arena, getting thoroughly beaten. Soon, his face was bruised.

Even he couldn’t help but wonder: “What’s worth watching here? That Wu Jin guy’s guaranteed to lose, right?”

Jiang Tianming and the others nodded, seeing no other outcome. Having seen the intel, they knew both sides’ abilities: Wu Jin’s [Silence Is Silence] versus [Double Enhancement], which doubled physical stats. It was obvious who’d win.

Seeing their reactions, I laughed, snapping my fingers: “Since you all think the other guy will win, wouldn’t it be more interesting if Wu Jin won?”

Everyone exchanged confused looks, not understanding me, but they saw me unhesitatingly bet all my points on Wu Jin.

“You’re crazy!” Mu Tieren’s eyes widened. “That’s 400 points!”

Suddenly, he seemed to realize something: “Wait, where’d you get that many points?”

From the murderer-hunting arc, we each got 100 points. With three weeks of class points, that’d be about 115 total. He knew I’d sold ability intel, as he was one of the buyers, but he also knew it was cheap, and I hadn’t sold many copies.

In that case, 200-300 points was the max I could have. Where’d 400 come from?

The others were equally shocked. The sharpest, Jiang Tianming, quickly pieced it together: “You earned it from betting?”

I just smiled, saying nothing.

The others trusted Jiang Tianming’s judgment, surprised I’d made so much from betting in just one day.

Only Mu Tieren still frowned, worried: “I don’t know how you judged correctly before, but Wu Jin has almost no chance of winning this match. Aren’t you afraid of losing 400 points?”

Indeed, everyone thought I was a bit impulsive. This wasn’t spectating—it was making myself the spectacle.

Seeing their concerned looks, I smiled. Their attention was drawn to my hand, where a strangely patterned gear had appeared at some point.

I lowered my eyes, casually spinning the gear, my tone relaxed but my words domineering: “Since I’ve bet, he has to win, whether he wants to or not.”