“Jewelry?” Florence Reed frowned slightly.

Franklin Reed, standing to the side, came over and explained with a wry smile, “George Miller loves admiring ancient jewelry the most. He actually didn’t want to come this time—if I hadn’t told him he could take a look at my family’s heirloom jewelry, there’s no way I could have dragged him here!”

“You want to be a jewelry appraiser?” Florence Reed asked, thought for a moment, then reached behind her neck with both hands and unclasped the black leather cord she wore.

Only then did everyone see what was hanging from the cord—a rhombus-shaped pale blue crystal, about the size of a fingernail, with a tiny silver ring encased inside.

“This is an old piece of jewelry I picked up a while back. Is this what you’re interested in?” Florence Reed handed the crystal to George Miller.

George Miller took the crystal and glanced at it. The crystal wasn’t particularly valuable, but it did look very old. “It’s beautiful…” As soon as he held it, he suddenly felt a surge of scorching energy rush out from the crystal and into his fingers.

The potential bar at the bottom of his vision shot up like a rocket.

92%... 98%... 103%... 132%... 177%... 181%!

The potential percentage finally slowed and stopped at 181%.

George Miller looked at the crystal in his hand, feeling as if something inside it was slowly fading away, though its appearance and everything else remained unchanged. Suppressing his excitement, he carefully handed the crystal back. “It’s a very nice crystal. If possible, could I hear the story behind it?”

Florence Reed took it back, pausing in surprise at his words. “You know about it?”

“Know about what? Is there some story to this thing?” The others, who had finally finished tending to their wounds, breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing the two of them talking off to the side, the red-haired girl who’d been bitten by the snake became interested and came over to ask.

“A little.” Florence Reed nodded. “It’s called the Ring of Misfortune. They say every owner who wears it suffers all kinds of bad luck and eventually dies an unnatural death. But I don’t really believe it can actually kill someone. I’m especially interested in things like this, so I spent money to get it and wore it myself. But there are so many fakes of the Ring of Misfortune in the world, so who knows if mine is real.”

George Miller nodded. There really was a widely known story behind this crystal, and the two pieces of jewelry from which he’d previously absorbed potential also had their own legends, good or bad. This made him even more certain of his theory.

Only jewelry with a backstory can be used to absorb potential.

“You’re way too bold—what if it’s real?” “All the previous owners died unnaturally, is that true?” The two girls, having recovered, now crowded around Florence Reed to ask about the crystal’s story.

George Miller, having absorbed the potential, walked alone to the lakeside, pretending to wash his hands and face.

“I already tested my strength last time, and it really changed a lot. So what attribute should I add to this time?”

His gaze drifted over the four attributes again.

“Constitution is my weak point, but constitution, strength, and agility can all be improved with training. Intelligence, though, I’m not sure what it affects.”

He fell silent for a moment, then focused his attention on strength, intelligence, and constitution.

“Generally, if you spread your points too evenly, you won’t achieve much. Only by specializing can you maximize your advantage. Since I already added to strength once, adding again is one way to go. But… if only I could split the points…” The thought suddenly occurred to him.

Suddenly, the energy swirling in his mind split into three streams, each flowing into strength, constitution, and intelligence.

George Miller felt his whole body jolt, a strange tingling sensation spreading wildly from his head downward.

In just a few seconds, his body returned to normal.

He felt as if he was stronger, more solid, and his mind had become clearer. Some things he hadn’t understood in his studies suddenly came to him, and he naturally figured out part of them.

After adjusting a bit, George Miller looked again at the attributes at the bottom of his vision.

Strength 0.44, Agility 0.23, Constitution 0.31, Intelligence 0.36. Potential 81%.

Strength increased by 0.03, constitution by 0.03, intelligence by 0.04.

“So it’s almost an even distribution!” George Miller was a little surprised. “But what does intelligence do?” He began to carefully check his physical condition.

St. Oriole Academy was a standard aristocratic school, focused on nurturing specialized talents. As long as you excelled in one subject, it didn’t matter if the others were weak—you could go straight to the university run by St. Oriole itself. But George Miller didn’t plan to go to St. Oriole University; that path was for the truly privileged. Most students aimed to improve their overall grades and get into a real top university.

And for that, you needed to be good in all subjects.

※ ※ ※ ※

Nighttime.

In a high-rise apartment with a red roof in a working-class neighborhood in the south of Huai City.

The purple-haired, red-eyed George Miller was sitting at his desk, reading a book by the soft yellow light of his desk lamp.