Thinking of this, he himself didn’t know how he was supposed to go on living. When he first realized he had transmigrated, he still had a trace of anticipation in his heart, but after carefully sorting things out, he found that this world was merely a backward technological civilization.

“Well, whatever, I’ll just take things one step at a time. For now, the priority is to nurse my body back to health.” George Miller lifted his arm, as thin as a bamboo pole, and couldn’t help but give a helpless, bitter smile.

Carrying their schoolbags, the brother and sister walked together to the front door, closed it securely, and George Miller carried the household trash bag in front, heading down the stairs. As he walked, he also observed the other residents and the state of this era.

The stairwell was a bit dim, with only two households on each floor. To the left of each door hung a brass mailbox engraved with the resident’s name. They looked quite old.

Most of the residents coming and going were dressed in proper suits and long dresses, each standing ramrod straight. Although their faces showed signs of fatigue, their steps were still hurried, making the pace of life seem extremely fast. Only a few residents looked to be in poor circumstances, and there were also some small vendors renting rooms.

The siblings didn’t say a word until they exited the stairwell. They threw the trash into the bin. George Miller glanced at his sister standing to his left. Grace Carter was half a head shorter than him, a sister brought by his father from a previous marriage. He, on the other hand, was related by blood to his mother and her late husband. So, although their hair and eye colors were the same, in reality, they were not related by blood. Moreover, their relationship as siblings was just average, only a bit closer than that of friends.

As usual, the two boarded the academy’s shuttle bus. There were already a few scattered students seated inside.

2

George Miller and his sister found seats toward the back and sat down. He glanced at the students in the seats ahead—all were wearing the Saint Oriole Academy uniform. The girls, like his sister, wore white short-sleeved tops, ultra-short skirts, and black tights. The boys all wore fitted, stylish white shirts, black trousers, and leather shoes. They looked neat and uniform.

The students were divided into many small groups, chatting and laughing continuously.

Not long after they got on, the bus stopped again. Two more academy students boarded. The bus stopped several more times like this, and soon, two handsome boys got on, chatting and laughing. One was slender and tall, the other sturdy, each with his own confident aura, immediately drawing the attention—intentional or not—of several girls on the bus.

George Miller sat beside his sister and noticed Grace Carter’s gaze also unconsciously drifted toward the two boys who had just boarded. He compared himself to them, shook his head helplessly, glanced at the two, and then looked away.

Ordinary boys like him, sitting in inconspicuous spots, were all too common on the bus. Compared to those two outstanding boys, he was nothing but a background character.

George Miller turned his face to look at the scenery flashing by outside the window. On both sides of the clean, gray-white street stood rows of black street lamps. Most of the roadside buildings were ordinary white concrete apartment blocks, with the occasional white stone house. The style was somewhat European. From time to time, cars overtook them from the side.

“Mom and Dad asked me to tell you that next week you don’t need to go straight home—you can eat at school. The company has some business, so they’ll be on a trip and might not be back for a week. We’ll have to manage on our own.” His sister suddenly spoke in a low voice.

“Oh, got it.” George Miller nodded, his tone as usual. “By the way, your ranking improved by a few places in the last exam, right? Did Dad buy you a Boonie Bear?”

“So what?” Grace Carter turned her head away, ignoring him. “If your grades improve, Mom will buy you a gift too.”

George Miller smiled and said nothing more. Unintentionally, he suddenly noticed five faint red data points slowly appearing at the bottom of his field of vision. They were four different attributes represented by strange symbols. Oddly enough, he didn’t recognize these symbols, yet he knew exactly what each one meant.

The smile on George Miller’s face instantly faded. His heart jolted, and he quickly glanced around—no one had noticed anything unusual about him. Those who were supposed to be laughing still were, those chatting about school gossip continued as usual. His sister had taken out a history book and was silently memorizing it.

“What’s this? A transmigration bonus?” George Miller had read many novels, all of which mentioned some kind of benefit after transmigrating. He thought he didn’t get one, but unexpectedly, it was only now slowly appearing. He refocused on the five symbols.

He concentrated on the five symbols at the bottom of his vision, his lips moving slightly as he silently recited in his mind: “Strength 0.31, Agility 0.22, Constitution 0.27, Intelligence 0.32. Potential 25%.”

The moment he silently recited the meaning of the five symbols, a brief residual memory instantly flooded into his mind.

George Miller suddenly closed his eyes, sitting motionless in his seat. After a moment, he slowly opened his eyes. “So it’s actually a soul superpower that resulted from electrocution plus transmigration and final mutation?” He clearly recalled the entire process of this ability mutating and finally forming, filled with countless coincidences and countless complex changes that were impossible to see or understand, ultimately resulting in the ability he now possessed.