Chapter Five: Is It Really All Right to Time-Travel Right After the School Year Begins?

PS: Twelve consecutive draws, twelve consecutive failures. From now on, please address me affectionately as Chief, and by the way, a few recommendation votes would be much appreciated to soothe my wounded soul.

“Since the two special admissions students weren’t here yesterday, let me introduce them again. This is Feng Xue, with a specialization in anime.” Old Wang pointed to Feng Xue, then to the girl who had chosen her cultivation technique alongside him the day before, “And this is Mu Qianrou, also with a specialization in anime. (Originally, Mu Qianrou was set to specialize in martial arts, but due to the Jiangnan incident, I gave up on a few martial arts worlds, so this would-be tomboy transmigrator now specializes in anime instead.)”

“That’s it?” Feng Xue was a bit dumbfounded. Shouldn’t he be invited up to say something like, “I’m not interested in ordinary people…” or something of the sort? If not, apart from Xia Mi and this Mu Qianrou, wouldn’t he know absolutely no one else here?

Yet before Feng Xue could react, Old Wang smacked the lectern and produced a box resembling a raffle drum. “You’re all new students, but you should be familiar with the theoretical knowledge by now. To understand your individual traits, we’ll follow convention and have you undertake a solo semi-plane mission. Though this is technically a welfare training task, it still carries the risk of death. Anyone unwilling to participate may apply to withdraw from the school…”

Most of those present, evidently accustomed to this routine, silently went up to the podium one by one, took a document akin to a life-and-death contract from Old Wang, and signed their names.

Feng Xue glanced at Mu Qianrou with a dark expression. Clearly, she knew about this in advance.

“So I’m the only one who didn’t know? And what exactly is this so-called welfare training task? If it’s a welfare, why is there danger?” Although his mind was racing with questions, Feng Xue quietly walked up to the podium and signed his name.

Who was he kidding? Sooner or later, he’d have to cross over to another world. If he was afraid now, how could he play the game later?

“Very good, you’re all very clever. Now come up and draw your lots. Since these are training missions, the plane’s level doesn’t really matter. All I can say is, the scenarios you’ll be entering are all of the ‘Uncommon’ difficulty tier. Of course, if you wander off, you might accidentally stumble into a ‘Transcendent’ or even ‘Heroic’ level scenario—so be careful.” Wang Dachui produced a box for drawing lots. Though it appeared to be an ordinary cardboard box, Feng Xue could sense a strange energy swirling around it, likely some anti-cheating mechanism.

This only heightened Feng Xue’s unease. What did “Uncommon difficulty scenario” mean? And what did “wandering off” entail? What in the world was a Heroic level?

(For context: In Reality Level, ‘Ordinary’ refers to completely mundane worlds—no supernatural abilities at all, though some special forces soldiers or martial artists may appear. ‘Uncommon’ means very little to a small amount of supernatural power. ‘Transcendent’ includes supernatural power at the tactical level, where numbers still matter and you can’t single-handedly wipe out armies. ‘Fantasy’ is divided by the level of Origin Touch, but for now, just know that a Heroic level individual could take on a modern military unit single-handedly as long as they don’t have weapons of mass destruction.)

But Teacher Wang Dachui gave Feng Xue no time to dwell on it—the box was soon thrust into his hands.

“What the hell!” Feng Xue clutched the slip he’d drawn, nearly grabbing Old Wang by the collar to curse, “What on earth is ‘Shokurin Temple’? You’re telling me that ‘Toriko’ is only Uncommon level? Why not just throw me into ‘Dragon Ball’ to fight the Saiyans?”

“Ahem… I drew ‘Dragon Ball’, though it’s only Master Roshi’s hut…” A boy with a mournful face patted Feng Xue’s shoulder and showed him his own slip.

Feng Xue could only return a sorrowful look. “Count your blessings. At least it’s not the secondary male lead in ‘Tiger of the Sea’…”

The other boy shivered in perfect coordination.

Soon, Feng Xue noticed something odd. Everyone else drew place names like Dojo of the Illusory Sea, Master Roshi’s Hut, Clock Tower, Hogwarts, and so on—mostly academy-type buildings from various worlds. So this was their so-called training task? Even so, ‘Toriko’ is at least an epic-level world; being thrown in there seemed way out of line.

Though Feng Xue continued to grumble, the result was set and couldn’t be changed. Old Wang clapped the lectern to draw everyone’s attention. “Log into the world you’re assigned to using your student ID. The escape mission will be displayed there. Complete it and you’ll receive corresponding rewards, so don’t miss out!”

Old Wang finished and led the twenty students toward the central building of the Uncommon Zone.

As they walked, Feng Xue scanned the QR code on his slip with his student ID. A form popped up on the screen:

Semi-plane Escape Mission: Complete training at Shokurin Temple. Reward: 20 credits.
Note: Perfect completion grants a free Gourmet Cell transplantation.

The credits weren’t generous—just 20 points. Feng Xue knew this was little, as even the cheapest standard transmigrator’s item, the spatial pouch, cost 100 points according to the exchange table.

He didn’t mind, though. If Uncommon level missions allowed you to claim anything you wanted from the exchange list, this school wouldn’t be worthy of its title as the top academy in Huaxia.

What caught his eye was the Gourmet Cell transplantation—an item worth 5,000 credits on the exchange list. But could someone please explain what “perfect completion” actually meant?

Lost in thought, Feng Xue followed the group into the central hall, where an ornate door suddenly appeared before the students.

The door was a hundred meters tall, carved with countless characters from myriad worlds—angels, demons, ancient dragons, elves, even divine-class Pokémon and ultimate-form Digimon. But none of this truly mattered. In reality, no matter how magnificent the carvings, all eyes were drawn to the swirling blue vortex at the center of the door, which seemed to exert a pull on the very soul.

“This is the legendary treasure of the Great Transmigration Era—the Portal Between Worlds!” Old Wang patted the massive doorframe, looking especially comical beneath its grandeur. “Make sure your student IDs are secure, then proceed one by one. The portal will send you to the world matching your assignment, based on your student ID.”

At this, the students split into distinct groups. Some strode into the portal without a second thought—clearly, this wasn’t their first time. Others were brimming with excitement, their eyes shining with anticipation—true otaku who had been waiting for this moment for who knows how long. The rest hung back, nervous and uncertain, anxiety plain on their faces.

Feng Xue, naturally, belonged to the excited camp. Without hesitation, he plunged into the blue vortex. After a wave of dizziness—as though he’d been flushed down a toilet—he suddenly found himself sitting on the ground, that reassuring feeling of solidity beneath him. After a moment, he finally had time to take in his surroundings…

He was at the grand gate of a magnificent wooden temple, though the primitive meat-shaped decorations flanking the signboard were rather peculiar.

Yes, this was Shokurin Temple. In the original work, this was where the protagonist learned Shoku, the “Food Honor” akin to the Mind of Tranquil Waters, laying the foundation for future adventures in the Gourmet World.

But that was a long way off. For now, Feng Xue was encased in a spherical barrier, with everything outside frozen in place.

“So it’s like the Lord God’s system.” Feng Xue instinctively raised his left hand. Sure enough, a mechanical watch appeared—it was his student ID in portable form. With a brief gaze, information streamed into his mind—

“Training period: one year.”

“What the hell does that mean (╯‵皿′)╯︵┻━┻!” Feng Xue was at his wit’s end, jumping and searching everywhere, pressing every button on the watch, only to confirm that this was the only information provided. He felt as though a herd of alpacas was stampeding through his mind.

“No mission details, no assigned identity—just a time limit? What kind of joke is this?” Feng Xue scratched his head so hard he almost made himself bald. But before long, he stopped—the barrier had vanished.

More absurdly, with the barrier’s disappearance, so too did the temple and the ground beneath his feet…

“How am I supposed to make the temple appear?!” Feng Xue stood on the vast, empty ground, veins bulging on his forehead as he stared at the countless Shokurin Temple members floating in midair.

This was clearly the main gate of Shokurin Temple. According to the original story, the temple is constructed from a timid yet irritable material, refusing to reveal itself to the disrespectful, but attacking intruders inside. Only those cultivating “Food Honor” with a heart full of gratitude can live here peacefully.

“A heart full of gratitude…” Feng Xue pressed his palms together and focused his mind.

In an instant, the immense wooden temple complex appeared before him.

“Amazing…!” But the moment Feng Xue’s attention wavered, the temple vanished again.

“Gratitude, gratitude!” Feng Xue forced himself to focus, moving slowly as if self-hypnotized.

At last, he stepped through the main gate. But from this point onward, he realized he would be facing the temple’s attacks.

To be safe, Feng Xue immediately activated his concept.

His concept was “Imaginary Numbers”—the ability to give form to the formless. In simple terms, he could manipulate all intangible things: shadows, lines of sight, even words. If he fully unleashed his power, he could perceive electromagnetic fields, gravity, and even the most elusive sense of danger.

As Feng Xue circulated his Body Refinement Technique, his physique began to change. As previously mentioned, this technique allows one’s concept to merge with their body. However, Feng Xue’s Imaginary Number concept straddled the line between elemental and abstract—it neither enhanced his control over imaginary numbers nor transformed him into an element. Instead, it allowed his body to shift between tangible and intangible states (somewhat akin to the spiritualization of a Heroic Spirit: immune to all physical attacks, but unable to launch or defend against any physical attack, nor eat or touch anything, though those with special perception could still see him; in this state, he was vulnerable to energy and soul attacks), while greatly enhancing his perception of the intangible.

“Danger!” In his imaginary number state, Feng Xue’s sixth sense was preternaturally sharp. Like a cicada sensing the autumn wind, his body reacted without conscious thought—and the next moment, a barrage of wooden spikes shot up from where he’d just stood.

Feng Xue halted at once, focusing on gratitude.

Honestly, he could have simply activated his AT Field to nullify such an attack. But this was his first lesson at the Transmigrator Academy, and he suspected it was also his first entry test. Who knew what would happen if he failed? Besides, as a new student, the academy would probably be assessing things like learning ability, adaptability, and relationships, not pure combat strength. If so, brute force alone wouldn’t work!

“Gratitude, thanks to all things, thanks to life—never let it go for a moment…” Feng Xue murmured in self-hypnosis, making his way deeper into the temple…