Chapter 3: A Changing World, Like the Entrance to a Cosplay Expo

Ye Xuan didn’t have such thoughts; rather, having gained power made him more acutely aware of the value of knowledge.

For now, it’s fine—he obtained the Wang Quan Baye template, so he doesn’t need to worry much about these things—but for those who gained abilities based on imaginative concepts, without outstanding knowledge, it’s hard to fully unleash their power.

But this was just his own opinion; everyone’s thoughts differed, and so did their choices.

Although it seemed odd to still attend school and take the college entrance exam after gaining power, at least so far, no one had heard of any student who, after gaining power, abandoned studying or refused to take the college entrance exam.

As for Ye Xuan, after obtaining the system and fusing the Wang Quan Baye template, he no longer felt urgent pressure to achieve high grades, so attending school was more interesting than staying home alone.

After standing up, Ye Xuan stretched, then went to wash up and sleep.

It wasn’t early anymore; after finishing homework, it was already ten, and now it was nearly twelve—he’d have to wake up early tomorrow.

His home was close to the school, and due to his special circumstances, he was registered as a day student; normally he should have boarded, but that would mean waking at six and starting morning reading at six-thirty; day students could arrive before seven.

The next day.

When Ye Xuan opened his eyes, morning light streamed through the curtain gaps, and the power flowing within him left him momentarily dazed.

“So it wasn’t a dream.”

The overwhelming sense of power brought back the memory of last night’s fishing and fusing the youthful Wang Quan Baye template—his internal sword qi surged like a river.

He rose and walked to the bathroom; after washing up, he instinctively reached for his school uniform—but his gaze landed on the blue-and-white long robe gifted by the system.

Times had changed; since someone successfully awakened by cosplaying an anime character, more and more young people began wearing costumes from anime and films as everyday attire. Schools still maintained uniform policies, but turned a blind eye.

There was no helping it—fantasy items invading reality had no nationality, but the people who obtained them did.

The characters born from human imagination possessed such immense power; some could easily destroy cities or nations. What if a hostile nation awakened a powerful character template? Wouldn’t that be catastrophic?

So every country hoped to have more awakened strong individuals, and naturally, restrictions in these areas had become much looser.

Ye Xuan hadn’t done this before—first, he didn’t think his luck could be that good; second, he thought it was childish. After all, he was a transmigrator—he’d long passed that age.

At most, he’d try it privately; he’d never wear it directly into school.

But now it was different: wearing it before obtaining a template was childish; after obtaining a template, was it still childish?

That was the true descent of Wang Quan Baye into reality.

He put on the blue-and-white robe, fastened the belt, and strapped the Wang Quan Sword to his side. In the mirror, the boy had clear features; the blue fabric shimmered with faint golden patterns, the ancient, dignified longsword at his waist bore the faint glow of the characters “Wang Quan” on its hilt.

But what drew the most attention was his aura—a confident, composed demeanor of a young swordsman, as if all things under heaven could be cut with a single blade; a strand of hair before his forehead stirred without wind, the spirit in his eyes sharpened his entire silhouette.

At this moment, Ye Xuan looked like a swordsman stepping out of an ink painting, every gesture carrying an indescribable grace.

He smiled at the mirror, and the young swordsman in the mirror smiled back.

Good feeling.

Ye Xuan checked the time and stepped out the door.

At the entrance of Wutong Alley, steamy mist carried the rich aroma of buns into his nose; Ye Xuan stood before the breakfast stall and confidently ordered:

“Uncle Zhang, twelve meat buns, six vegetable buns, and three cups of soy milk.”

“Pack them in three bags.”

His gaze fell on Uncle Zhang’s peculiar attire: a red scarf hung around his neck like a Young Pioneer neckerchief, gray temples peeked from beneath a tai chi headband, and in his hand was a rolling pin—its size normal, but the tip crudely painted with red lacquer in the shape of a green dragon pattern.

“Got it!”

Uncle Zhang automatically replied, packed the items, looked up to greet him—and froze. His right hand halted midair; after a long pause, he finally handed the packed buns to Ye Xuan.

“Xiao Xuan, today’s outfit—”

Then, as if remembering something, he suddenly understood:

“Oh, you’re trying to awaken an anime character too? Let me tell you, this is harder than winning the lottery!”

Ye Xuan took the packed buns; Uncle Zhang kept rambling:

“Look at what I’m wearing—it’s called ‘Master Gangtian’s Full Cosplay Set.’ My daughter grabbed it on 20% off.”

“It came with a two-meter-long prop rod—not heavy, but absurdly long. Can you use that to roll dough? So I cut off both ends and turned it into a rolling pin.”

“Painting that dragon pattern cost me fifty yuan!”

“You know the Ba Long Pattern, right? The Ba Long Pattern is—”

“Only legendary kitchenware carries the Ba Long Pattern and Rui Feng Pattern. Master Gangtian’s steel rod doesn’t have it.”

Ye Xuan kindly reminded him as he paid.

“What’s that?”

“Then what did I pay fifty yuan for?”

Uncle Zhang widened his eyes.

“You’re an idiot.”

The woman selling pancakes shouted mockingly.

“You say Xiao Xuan wants to awaken an anime character? I think it’s you who wants to!”

“You haven’t even watched ‘Little Chef’—and you think you can awaken Master Gangtian’s legacy? Look at yourself—can you even lift that steel rod?”

“Hahahaha!”

“Go to hell—I haven’t watched it either!”

Uncle Zhang grumbled, slammed his rolling pin hard on the counter—but as he watched Ye Xuan’s retreating back, that indescribable aura of the young swordsman made him mutter quietly:

“Come to think of it, Xiao Xuan’s outfit actually looks pretty convincing.”

Meanwhile, Ye Xuan carried his breakfast to the school gate, scanning the bustling crowd dressed in wildly varied outfits—his lips twitched slightly.

Although he’d seen this many times, every time he saw it, he still found the scene unbelievable.

Those who knew knew this was a school; those who didn’t thought it was the entrance to a cosplay expo.

There were students wearing the Akatsuki’s black robes with red clouds from Naruto, the Shinigami robes from Bleach, Sailor Moon’s sailor uniforms holding glowing “Moon Prism” props, and many others dressed as different versions of Sun Wukong, carrying staffs.

Any anime character you could imagine seemed to be here—even beyond anime.

Those in proper school uniforms had become a minority—no, to be precise, almost no one wore them except for a tiny few obsessed with studying.

Even the most rigid former headmaster today wore a Five Eyes Mask from Jujutsu Kaisen, though it looked more like it was meant to hide dark circles.

Five Eyes could see through his blindfold—could you see through yours?

(End of Chapter)