Chapter Ninety-Five: So That's How It Is (Third Update)

Although two disturbances had followed one after another, the people involved were all figures impossible to ignore: Chuzihang, the school’s idol of both sexes, first in the grade, an all-around athlete, cold and aloof as snow; Lutiantian, forever fourth in the grade, once a nobody, but now revealed to possess a strange, oppressive presence.

And the last of them, the first-year transfer student Xami, was a natural beauty, hot-tempered and sharp-tongued. On top of that, her identity as a victim of Lutiantian’s bullying made her no easy target.

So the greatest victim of these two incidents was—Lumingfei.

By now, he had fallen from the very bottom of the class to a complete nonentity. Everyone kept several yards away from him, and from time to time they cast him looks tinged with anger.

There was no other reason for it. He had merely been involved in the affair, yet possessed no visible merit that anyone could appreciate, and so he became the perfect object for displaced resentment.

Faced with this, Lutiantian merely watched coldly, with no intention of helping.

After all, that hunch had not yet been confirmed—and could a person who gave him the same near-odine feeling really be incapable of solving such a trivial problem?

Lutiantian doubted it deeply. Besides, he considered himself a reclusive fellow, clumsy with words and poor at handling petty intrigues and social niceties, so he did not force himself to step forward.

School was over. He wondered if things over there were ready.

The bell rang, and dismissal time came.

Shilan Middle School let out early, and always on time.

After all, once school was dismissed, students who belonged to clubs had places to go for their club activities, those with tutoring classes had to attend them, and those with private tutors were expected to go straight home on schedule. Unless there was some major event, the school never delayed.

Lutiantian stood up and stretched without caring who saw, then invited, “By the way, Lumingfei, do you want to come to my place?”

“Me?” Lumingfei was a little flattered, but then thought of his aunt’s thunderous roar and hurriedly waved the idea away. “I have to go home…”

“Up to you.” Lutiantian did not insist. “My place is Xuanhuang Residence, in Serpent Hill, east of the city. If you come, just tell the guard.”

“Sky Leisure Residence?” The ordinarily delicate-looking Liumiaomiao suddenly stopped as if she had merely been passing by. “That famous super-mansion? Wasn’t it always unsold?”

“Bought it yesterday.” Lutiantian answered carelessly, then turned toward the door. “You there, Xami, what are you doing?”

“Ah!” Xami sprang out from the corner like a rabbit and hurried three steps at a time to stand before him. “Can I go too? Senior Lutiantian?!”

“You can’t.” He refused without the slightest emotional fluctuation, then leaned close to her ear and said softly, “A person of unknown origin, with unknown motives, and absolutely nothing to do with me—I’m not inviting you.”

“My motive is you, Senior Lutiantian!” As if she had not understood his implied meaning at all, Xami thumped her flat chest and declared, “Take me with you, senior. Take along your junior…”

“Mm.” Still with no change in tone, Lutiantian stood up and handed his things to Chuzihang, who was waiting by the door. “Let’s go. Time to head back.”

“Yes.” Chuzihang replied.

...

Three hours later, on the sports field, Chuzihang, dressed in training clothes, was mechanically wielding a demonic blade.

One strike, two strikes, three strikes...

Even without anyone teaching her, each swing was better than the last, faster, sharper, and stronger.

This was not only because of the blood of the heavenly race bestowed by Lutiantian, but also because of Chuzihang’s extraordinary talent in the way of the sword.

At first, Lutiantian had intended to teach her secret martial arts, but the comic book that had just been urgently delivered beside him interrupted his thoughts.

He turned page after page, all the information reflecting in his mind. His powerful brain allowed him, within half an hour, to effortlessly take in the entire plot of Sea Tiger, volumes one through three.

Simulated superpowers. Current push. Magnetic field rotation. Second-son path. First-son path. Dark path. Heaven’s path. White Second Son. Lan Meng. Mingyue Holy King...

Along with the whistle of the blade slicing through the air, a world similar yet different unfolded before Lutiantian’s eyes, and before he knew it, the smile at the corner of his mouth had grown more and more distinct.

“So that’s how it is. So that’s how it is. I never thought it would develop like this in another world,” Lutiantian murmured. He was certain that this story described another world entirely.

After all, having met Heaven’s Path, White Second Son, Mingyue Holy King, and Lan Meng himself, he could tell at a glance that the characters of the same names in the comic were little more than two-dimensional versions of those people. Add to that the second-son path and the striking resemblance in temperament—how could there be such a coincidence in this world?

Had the comic creator given birth to the world?

Had someone modeled a similar world after the comic?

Or had the world’s information, entangled in some way, seeped into the creator’s mind?

Or was it simply that the world was endless, and that even a monkey typing randomly on a typewriter could, after countless ages, produce a Hamlet?

As these possibilities surfaced in his mind, Lutiantian shook his head and cast aside, for now, matters he could not possibly uncover with his present strength.

The greatest benefit the comic Sea Tiger brought him was not that it showed him the possibility of another world, but that it taught him what his next step should be.

Since he had already started from simulated superpowers and stepped into current push, there was no doubt that the next step could only be magnetic field rotation—and the power of magnetic field rotation was indeed enough to satisfy him.

A hexagonal power with no shortcomings except lifespan, and given that the blood of the serpent god could break the limit of life expectancy, it was perfect for him.

No, perhaps even lifespan would not be a shortcoming. After all, by the end of the story, there was not a single true magnetic-field powerhouse who died of old age.

Lutiantian stroked his chin as he made his decision. Though his own path diverged slightly from the one on the page, it was certainly very close, and could naturally serve as a reference.

He did not worry that he would be unable to break through in magnetic field rotation—after all, the derivation of Effort followed his own intentions. As long as the power system was truly viable, then so long as source points were sufficient, he would certainly be able to break through.

And even if the source points were insufficient, with Lutiantian’s effect of never regressing in training, so long as he lived long enough, he could still force his way through by training alone—just like that peerless Oga, who grew stronger simply by secluding himself.

However, there was one thing: the diffusiveness of magnetic field power.

With a keen eye for this point, Lutiantian arrived at the answer to certain strange questions—why that mysterious white light, capable of carrying a person through time, had shown signs of assimilating him, and why the skin of the boss of the Qian family company whom he had killed earlier had become close to cowhide.

So it might have been because of me?

Lutiantian thought to himself. But just how far would that influence extend? I’ll need to gather more data and verify it.