How did he know the strength of a knight’s shield?
Darell, seeing eyes on him, scratched his hair and coughed. “My brother’s in the Church Knight Corps, under Knight Commander Banyan!”
Others gave him curious looks.
Angela seemed eager to ask about Banyan.
Carol coughed loudly, refocusing them. “Since you understand, can anyone guess why?”
Time track completeness, Siles thought.
They exchanged looks. Mrs. Fuller said, “Because our time track is a shield fragment? A fragment’s power can’t match a full shield’s.”
“Exactly!” Carol praised, genuinely impressed by the group. “That’s today’s topic: time track completeness.”
They listened intently.
“Remember the example from last Monday about Revelators? If you have a murderer’s weapon from three hundred years ago, you can borrow their power.”
Angela said instinctively, “A complete time track yields stronger power?”
“Of course! If you held a real knight’s shield and performed the ritual, you’d gain your power plus the past knight’s, combining for greater impact and protection.
“But for convenience, we carry shield fragments.”
Everyone nodded.
Time track completeness affected ritual power—easy to grasp. They only had fragments, hoping these small metals would work.
“But,” Siles said, “you mentioned Knight Commander Banyan. If we got his shield fragment, the power would be stronger, right?”
Carol replied, “Correct. The time track’s past owner also determines the ritual’s power.”
Eric Kolens sighed, “So many factors.”
Three elements, three dimensions. But practical variables were more. Siles thought similarly.
He recalled asking Glenfiel: didn’t Revelators have tiers? Why were their powers so chaotic?
But Carol’s hints suggested their powers were tied to Antinam.
Antinam appeared only four hundred years ago.
Revelators, a semi-public secret profession for mere centuries, were still being explored and organized.
Siles took a deep breath, convinced by this reasoning.
Carol refocused: “Judging time track completeness relies on experience, historical knowledge, and common sense, not external tools.”
“Common sense?”
“Yes. Your shield fragments—common sense tells you they’re incomplete, right?”
They nodded thoughtfully.
Carol clapped. “You’ll learn to judge completeness through practice, a cumulative process.
“Eventually, with enough familiarity with time’s power, you’ll instantly know if something’s a time track and if it’s complete—through years of study and practice.
“That’s today’s lesson. Practice [Invisible Shield] or [Flowing Wind].”
He pulled out leaves. “I picked these on the way; they’re different from before. Retrain your compatibility.”
He distributed the leaves.
Then, he said, “We’ve covered two dimensions: time track and ritual. You’ll have questions, but we’re nearly done with initiation.
“Wednesday, we’ll discuss potions—a complex topic requiring time.”
Carol glanced at the clock, exclaiming, “I’m late. I have things this afternoon. Practice here, don’t wander. Leave in an hour.”
He grabbed his items, waving. “See you Wednesday.”
“Wednesday,” they echoed.
After Carol left, Angela sighed, “He’s such a good person.”
Others agreed.
They dispersed to practice, no idle chat. Siles did too, observing the blue glow’s flow and mimicking it.
This let him, theoretically—his gauge uncooperative—reach full compatibility.
Siles sighed in relief. He didn’t want to rely on the blue glow forever. What if it vanished?
Always cautious and meticulous.
At four, ritual time ended, they bid farewell, and left the Historical Society.
Siles’s knowledge rose to 48. Revelator basics, ritual compatibility, and time track completeness each added a point. Potion knowledge might increase it further.
He hadn’t needed checks lately.
Lost in thought, Siles lagged, meeting Bruer Darro, who stopped suddenly.
“Damn!”
“What?” Siles asked. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Bruer said, “I’m getting engaged tomorrow and meant to tell them.”
Siles paused, then smiled sincerely. “Congratulations. You can tell them Wednesday.”
Bruer nodded. They parted at the Historical Society’s entrance.
Siles took a public carriage back to Lamifa University, then walked to 6 Hayward Street.
It was late. He planned to drop off his things and eat at the cafeteria. In the first-floor parlor, he met his roommate.
“Siles,” Lorenzo greeted. “By the way, there’s a letter for you on the tea table, slipped under the door. I brought it in.”
“Thanks,” Siles said politely, opening it.
He skimmed it and paused.
Lorenzo, curious, asked, “What’s it say?”
Siles said softly, “My apprentices. The institute arranged a meeting tomorrow at three.”
Lorenzo patted his shoulder, laughing. “Hope they’re obedient students. Some professors get headaches guiding stubborn ones on theses.”
Siles nodded. “I hope so too.”
But for now, the most pressing matter wasn’t apprentices but tomorrow morning’s specialized elective.
Lorenzo and Siles dined together, discussing the first class. Lorenzo said, “Don’t worry, students are curious about you.”
Siles asked, surprised, “Why?”
“New professor. Specialized elective, new and old students will attend, naturally curious,” Lorenzo said. “No need to worry.”
Siles thought, gaining some confidence.
He wasn’t truly stage-frightened or socially anxious, just instinctively resistant. After all, he wasn’t the real, twenty-four-year-old Siles Noel.
That night, he reviewed his teaching plans, rehearsed upcoming lessons, and prepared for tomorrow evening’s public elective.
The specialized elective had two class hours, while the evening public elective had three, each forty-five minutes.
After practicing, Siles set it aside, organizing future tasks.
Novel, thesis. Classes, apprentices. Revelators, heretic.
Speaking of the heretic, he visited the Central Cathedral on Saturday; now it was Monday night. Over two days, no news from the Church of the Past, worrying Siles.
But he didn’t dwell excessively.
That night, he pondered his novel’s content and structure. Feeling sleepy, he washed and slept.
On the second day, he woke at seven.
His class, Silent Era Literature and Its Theoretical Evolution—Using Three Famous Silent Era Authors as Examples, began at ten, ending at eleven-thirty. He had ample time.
After washing, he donned the prepared suit. He knew this body was handsome and composed, but in formal attire, Siles Noel truly stood out.
He looked at the black-haired, black-eyed youth in the mirror. White shirt, dark blue vest, and suit jacket. No tie, one shirt button undone to avoid excessive severity.
Even so, his face remained cold and aloof, quite unapproachable.
Siles met his reflection’s gaze briefly.
Then he thought, this will do for students.
Downstairs, he met Lorenzo. Siles nodded casually. “Morning.”
Lorenzo gave him an odd look. “Why so formal?”
“To project professorial authority?” Siles said jokingly. “I’m too young.”
Lorenzo eyed his collar. “Honestly, the university doesn’t ban professor-student romance.”
Siles: “…”
What?
He stared blankly at his roommate.
Lorenzo sighed dramatically. “Professor Noel, do you know how many are curious about your looks, build, background, and academic prowess? How many single women in Lamifa City would marry you?”
Siles shook his head, adjusting his cuffs—not really interested. He had no intention of pursuing romance here.
Seeing this, Lorenzo sighed mournfully. “As your roommate, I sense tough days ahead.”
He seemed to jest.
Siles thought he was overreacting.
Lorenzo muttered, then slung an arm around Siles’s shoulders, laughing. “Come, dear roommate, time for breakfast.”
“No classes this morning?”
“None,” Lorenzo said. “My professor doesn’t need me constantly. I’m fairly free. He’ll notify me if needed.”
Lorenzo muttered, “Maybe.”
They left together.
Siles wasn’t used to formal wear, but his tall, lean, broad-shouldered, slim-waisted frame suited it. August mornings were growing hot; he considered teaching in just a shirt.
If not for the university’s traditional, strict teacher-student atmosphere, he’d wear casual T-shirts like Earth professors.
…Though this world’s fashion wasn’t that relaxed.
Siles sighed regretfully.
At the cafeteria, they drew gazes. Lorenzo, beside Siles, said dramatically, “I feel invisible.”
Siles said softly, “Maybe we can swap.”
“No, no, this suits me,” Lorenzo said. “Thanks, dear roommate. I’m no longer the youngest teacher in the institute.”
Siles: “…”
Was that his roommate’s real aim?
During breakfast, Siles unbuttoned his suit jacket, catching Lorenzo’s odd look again.
Siles paused. “What now?”
Lorenzo hesitated, then said, “Dear roommate, I don’t like men.”
Siles: “…”
He narrowed his eyes, saying coldly, “Neither do I.”
“Oh! You like women,” Lorenzo said regretfully.
Siles, exasperated by Lorenzo’s odd attitude, said, “I don’t like women either. Listen, maybe you can help—tell anyone hoping for intimacy with me that I’m focused on academics, not romance.”
Seeing Siles’s seriousness, Lorenzo nodded earnestly. Then, curiously, “But why? You’re young; surely you’ve been smitten, man or woman?”
Siles shook his head.
Neither he nor the original body’s memories held anyone who stirred his heart. He could—appreciate, perhaps—pure, beautiful love.
But for himself, he never imagined such romance.
He wasn’t adept at it. Reserved, taciturn. On Earth, he’d built a comfortable lifestyle, unable to imagine how a new person would disrupt it.
Sometimes, routine bred inertia.
Siles—or He Jiayin—lived over thirty years on Earth, content without a lifelong partner.
In Feishier, he had no time for such thoughts. His life was filled with exploring this world and playing Siles Noel.
He wanted to return to Earth—full of fried chicken, cola, hot pot, milk tea, and the dreamy internet.
Lorenzo’s words stirred complex emotions in Siles’s dark eyes.
Lorenzo didn’t notice Siles’s expression—always so calm, almost expressionless. He said, “Indeed, academics suit you better. You’re young.”
Siles felt Lorenzo misunderstood.
But after thinking, he decided no explanation was needed, letting Lorenzo’s assumption stand.
After breakfast, Lorenzo yawned, bidding farewell to nap, while Siles, with his materials, went to his fourth-floor office, awaiting class.
That afternoon, his apprentices would visit.
Siles belatedly eyed the two-person sofa and desk chair, deeming them sufficient for him and his two apprentices, easing his concern.
The office, no longer chaotic, bore Siles’s mark. But Kabel’s materials still unsettled him.
He didn’t plan to examine the low cabinet’s papers now, instead approaching the bookshelf to check the books.
He’d glanced at them before, knowing they were academic works. He wondered if any related to his thesis topic.
Standing before the bookshelf, he suddenly heard the long-silent die in his mind stir, triggering a check.
【You need to perform a knowledge check.】
【Knowledge: 48/48, Success.】
【You realize there are clues on this bookshelf you previously overlooked. Perhaps recent knowledge gains allowed you to notice the anomaly.】
Listening to the die’s description, Siles narrowed his eyes instinctively. Then, he wondered if he was squinting too much lately.
…Was he nearsighted?
Siles drifted in that direction, then refocused, looking at the bookshelf.
New knowledge revealed an anomaly?
He’d been here Sunday while moving, with no check triggered, so… was it yesterday’s Historical Society visit? Learning about time track completeness?
Time track completeness…
Completeness could be judged through experience, common sense, and historical knowledge.
…Meaning, on this bookshelf, there was an incomplete time track he hadn’t noticed or understood before?