A Guide for Background Characters to Survive in a Manga - Chapter 320 : Chapter 320

Translator: AkazaTL

Proofreader/Editor: JWyck

***

Chapter 320

I strongly agreed with Mu Tieren’s concern. So many kids in one communal bunk—fine for three- or four-year-olds, but the youngest here were five or six, the oldest thirteen or fourteen, ages needing privacy.

With both boys and girls, even family should know boundaries. Kids might not, but adults should. Housing them together without privacy, regardless of gender or age—could they grow up mentally healthy? Reflecting, we exchanged glances. Speaking of which, Li Shu’s psyche was a bit off. If he grew up here, it made sense…

“Let’s check that house,” I said, moving toward it, no longer overthinking.

At the door, we shared a knowing look—unexpected yet logical. The house looked shoddy outside, even worse inside. Barely passable, the space was tiny.

At first glance, it seemed like a registration office—just a small table with paper and pens, cluttered with random items, a seemingly pointless room.

But after seeing so many kids pass through, the setup felt like a cover-up.

Qi Huang scanned the room, raised a palm, and faint air ripples appeared. She whispered: “Go.”

The room’s air twisted, and I felt the temperature rise, not enough to burn.

“What’d you do?” I asked curiously.

Releasing her skill, Qi Huang answered: “Colorless fire. Water isn’t the only thing that can measure dimensions—fire can too.”

True, but we knew probing space with fire was harder than water. She had to control the flames to avoid damaging anything or hurting us, testing her Ability control and temperature precision.

“Impressive,” Mu Tieren gave a thumbs-up, trusting her skill despite the risk. “Awaiting good news.”

Qi Huang didn’t disappoint. Five minutes later, the air cooled, and she withdrew her hand, walking forward: “Found it.”

At the room’s center, she tapped a brick: “The basement entrance is under this. It’s empty—safe to go. But how do we get down?”

Clever design. Most would focus on obstacles like furniture, not expecting the entrance to be openly in the center.

“Time for me to shine,” Mu Tieren wouldn’t let others do all the work. He extended a hand, his arm transforming into a high-tech tool resembling a crowbar in a few breaths.

Not just a crowbar—a futuristic device. Touching the brick’s seam, its tip released tiny water streams, seeping in and corroding a larger gap.

With a gap, the rest was easy. A light lift, and the brick came out intact.

Focused, Mu Tieren looked up, smiling shyly, then, recalling something, tightened his lips and raised his crowbar-hand: “This is the body Dr. modified. It can turn into any recorded tool.”

So that’s the difference from Wei Yuexi’s [Arms Dealer]—distinct focuses. I mentally noted, looking at the slightly anxious Mu Tieren.

I knew his source of unease. A fully mechanized body was far from human. Novels often had traditionalists rejecting such people, and art reflected reality.

Though not his first time using this, past transformations were weapons, resembling Abilities. This crowbar, tech-heavy, felt different.

Before I could speak, Qi Huang mimicked his earlier thumbs-up: “Awesome. This is more practical than an Ability—no license needed.”

Seeing no disgust in her eyes, Mu Tieren relaxed. Then I asked curiously: “Your Ability enhances your body and mechanical parts. How’s that work?”

He rarely showed this in combat—his weapons were already strong, outmatching most Ability users or Nightmare Beasts. Those capable of resisting had special skills, masking the enhancement.

I didn’t mean it, but the question shifted his focus: “I’ve worked out a few things. My mechanical body’s durability is higher—most Abilities can’t damage it. My arms have regeneration and self-repair, no part damage issues. For example, take a rifle: faster firing, longer range, auto-correction. The enhancement’s flexible, based on my needs.”

In his element, he rambled. To me, it was useful but suited only him. For anyone else, this Ability was C-Class at best.

With my curiosity sated, I scanned the basement with Mental Energy, confirmed it was empty, and jumped in.

The basement was a world apart—like a high-end black-market clinic, unlike the cluttered registration above.

It was a clinic, specifically a surgical room. A plush recliner, a bookshelf, and a real registration desk greeted us.

Further in, a sealed surgical room with a glass window revealed a legit setup—complete with an operating table, spotlight, and various instruments.

“They came for… check-ups?” Qi Huang asked hesitantly, puzzled. Why a hidden basement for check-ups? A medical room should be above ground.

Mu Tieren tried the surgical room’s door—locked. I stepped up, using the pin from my brooch to fiddle with it.

Click!

The door opened.

“Where’d you learn that?” Qi Huang eyed me suspiciously as we entered.

Before I could answer, noises came from outside—someone was coming down. Startled, I quickly pulled Mu Tieren in, shut and locked the door, and used an Invisibility Charm.

Seeing my move, the others remembered their charms, going invisible just before the newcomers appeared.

A pink-haired man and woman in white coats—likely clinic doctors—entered. The woman held a medical chart, shaking her head: “Last batch of kids was average. Hope this one’s better.”

“Don’t worry. If this batch isn’t good, there’s the next, or the one after. With so many, some will be quality,” the man said dismissively, pulling keys to unlock the surgical room.

The woman scoffed, glaring: “Easy for you to say—just a quick effort for you. Even if it’s easier for us women, childbirth still takes a toll, okay?”

“Alright, my bad,” the man raised his hands in surrender. “You get the data; I’ll check the equipment.”

As old partners, the woman went to a computer desk, entered a password, and extracted data to print.

The man checked the operating table and instruments—surgery was precise; faulty tools could be deadly.

Watching them and recalling their words, I pondered. Their talk suggested the Li family treated kids as expendable resources, and, as the data showed, both men and women were prolific breeders.

Li women likely birthed easier than normal. To do so under such conditions—was it a physique or Ability? I messaged the group:

[EastSouthWest: Anyone know the Li family head’s Ability?]

No reply, no rush. I pocketed my phone, crept to the woman’s side, and checked her screen. It detailed fifty-four kids’ health stats—likely the group we saw—covering height, weight, and organ conditions, looking legit.

“Data’s decent. A few are pretty healthy,” the woman said, marking top ones in red and printing. “Give this to the family head—he’ll be pleased.”

The man patted the machines, satisfied: “Equipment’s fine. Once the data’s printed, we can lock up.”

He left the surgical room, sitting on the recliner facing it: “Great view here. No wonder they love sitting here.”

“They’re perverts, and so are you?” the woman snapped, carrying the printed data to him.

The man disagreed: “Not perverted. It’s their stuff—they should check to avoid quality issues.”

Differing views, no need to argue. She rolled her eyes, slapped the data into his hands: “Let’s go. Time to clock out.”

Once they left, Qi Huang dropped invisibility, guessing uncertainly: “Their last line—someone watches the kids during check-ups or surgery? Parents?”

In context, parents made sense. With so many kids, calling them “their stuff” was plausible, and regular health checks were fine.

But Qi Huang sensed something off. The woman, a Li family supporter, called it perverted. Parents watching check-ups wasn’t warm, but not perverse either.

Of course it wasn’t normal—it was a manga plot. Reasoning backward, I spotted a flaw: “If parents were watching, wouldn’t the data go to them? They only mentioned giving it to the family head, not the parents.”

Speaking of the head, I asked: “Do you know the Li family head’s Ability?”

I checked my phone—only Jiang Tianming replied, “Didn’t find out,” with no other messages. They were likely in trouble. I wondered if they’d found Li Shu.

Qi Huang, the likeliest to know, shook her head, then, to save face, explained: “It’s not that I didn’t try. The current head never attended an Ability Academy, getting a license directly from the Ability Government. I know he has an Ability, but not what it is.”

To get a license without attending school had a few paths.

First, discovering an Ability as an adult, past school age. You’d take a year-long Ability Government training, a grueling, exam-heavy course teaching Ability world basics, skill mastery, and ethics. Fail the exam, retake it—fail again, repeat the year.

This training offered little networking—attendees were mostly ordinary folk, blank slates in the Ability world, too busy to socialize.

That’s why I chose three years at the Academy over post-graduation training.

Second, donating heavily to the Ability Government or making significant contributions. Such people could get licenses as Ability users.

Likely, the Li family used the latter. Only the Ability Government had their Ability data, and they couldn’t leak it without losing credibility—which explained Qi Huang’s failure.

Clearly, the head’s Ability was fishy. I’d suspected their prolific breeding was Ability or physique-based—now, likely Ability.

Gotta say, an Ability boosting childbirth was wild. In ancient times, it’d make you an emperor’s honored guest. In modern times… supplying kids to rich, child-averse folks?

Too few clues to figure out. Good thing I didn’t care much about the truth. “Let’s go. No idea how Jiang Tianming’s group’s doing…”

Before I finished, noise erupted outside. Even in the basement, we heard fighting and shouts. Mu Tieren grew anxious: “Tianming’s been spotted! We need to go—”

“Go do what?” I said lazily. “Draw fire for them?”

Mu Tieren paused, then seriously considered my suggestion: “Not a bad idea.”

Now I was speechless.

Seeing Qi Huang eager to leave this just-checked safe spot for the surface, I respected their fate: “Go ahead. I’ll hold the fort. If anything happens, I’ll report it to the teacher.”

“Don’t dress up slacking as noble, you punk!” Qi Huang snapped.

But my point held—they needed someone for this. They didn’t force me, though they warned: “Stay here. You’d better be here when we finish, not vanished.”

I looked innocent.

Once they left, I got active. Since I came for this side plot, missing a spotlight moment was a loss. I couldn’t just slack—I had to do something.

My [Destiny Gear] hadn’t been upgraded via the forum in ages. Past events were main-plot-heavy, too taxing for Ability upgrades.

But this side mission was less risky, with no main-plot brain strain—a perfect stage. I could boost my Ability.

Decision made, two issues remained.

First, what to enhance.

I’d thought this through—I wasn’t unprepared. [Destiny Gear] had the same weaknesses: defense and Gear attack power.

I’d enhanced attack power several times—Destiny Gear was one result. Further focus might bore readers.

More importantly, the author seemed to suppress this aspect. Multiple upgrades hadn’t boosted the attack much. Understandable—I was already overpowered elsewhere; top-tier attack would sideline other characters.

So, defense it was. To be all-rounded, boosting Ability defense was key. I had an idea. Sitting on the recliner, I tapped the armrest: “Causality defense—fate says I won’t get hurt. Reasonable, right?”

Great idea, but tough to execute. I could’ve used my Prophet account to stir the forum, staging a post to cement reader belief in my Ability.

But I wouldn’t expose Prophet before the finale, so it couldn’t mention me. This meant I had to fully showcase my new Ability, ideally admitting it aloud, for readers to accept it fastest.

What to do to achieve this? Finding Li Shu, unraveling the Li family’s secret, confronting the head—protagonist group tasks. Since they were doing it, I wouldn’t steal their spotlight.

If it wasn’t relevant to the plot, the author might not give me a chance to show or state my new Ability. Already disliking me, they’d minimize my appearances.

But if I caused a big event, forcing the author to include me, it’d be different. For quality, they wouldn’t skimp on my plot, making it likelier to showcase my Ability.

I closed my eyes, thinking hard.

Suddenly, my purple eyes snapped open, gleaming. What would the protagonist group overlook? Something the Ability Government or Endless Ability Academy would handle later.

One constant on that list: punishing criminals.

The protagonist group might defeat the head, leaving others to the Ability Government. With the Li family’s wealth, like the Vixi Holy Land case, only the mastermind might face justice, others would be let off lightly due to “law not punishing the masses.”

I didn’t know if this would happen, but I could prepare. For criminals the government might spare, I’d gather enough evidence to force fair punishment.

This seemed slightly out-of-character, but I had a reason. Chased for no reason, a little revenge was reasonable, right? Knowing manga readers, they wouldn’t overthink it.

Even if I misjudged and the government had a solid plan, no harm done. I wasn’t desperate to upgrade my Ability—this was just a good chance.

With my plan set, I touched my Gear brooch and got moving.