Is this old geezer really about to kick the bucket? Still, I had zero desire to stay in this dump mastering magic. Even if I became some all-powerful Archmage, what then? I sure as hell didn’t want to fight Demonkin to the death. Nothing beat the peaceful days back home.

The cellar had a ready-made alchemy station. Bottles of magical reagents were neatly labeled, and with accompanying diagrams, I got the hang of it quickly. After over an hour’s work, I’d repaired the broken wilderness portal array. Placing magic crystals at each corner, the runes glowed with a soft, steady light.

But I didn’t activate it yet. One problem remained: this face. My features had changed too drastically. My parents probably wouldn’t recognize me. They might kick me out when they got home. School would be impossible. Total mess.

After hours scouring the bookshelves, I found a solution: Skin Mask Alchemy. Here, all tech and machinery fell under "alchemy," often fused with magic to create bizarre hybrids. This technique used magical ingredients to craft human skin for disguises. According to the text, high-quality alchemical skins were favorites among assassins and spies.

Crafting a full skin was too much hassle. A mask would suffice. After repeated attempts following the manual, I finally produced a face that resembled my old one—about eighty percent accurate.

With homesickness gnawing at me, I stepped through the portal back to Earth. At home, I donned the mask and checked the mirror. The face wasn’t quite right, but the bigger issue was my eyes.

I’d never paid much attention to them before—just average, ordinary double-lidded eyes. But after the magical baptism, they’d grown larger, brighter, like pools of starlight. Staring too long made even *me* dizzy. I was certain that even with a mask on, these eyes alone would get me mistaken for a girl. Plus, the alchemical skin didn’t seal cleanly around the sockets. A careful observer would spot the flaw.

*Sunglasses for school?* Way too flashy. A guy in shades in class? Teachers would flip. School rules probably forbade it anyway.

Thankfully, the internet delivered: one-way lens glasses. The lenses let me see out clearly, but from outside, they looked like opaque, foggy mirrors.

*Black tech saves the day.* I ordered a pair immediately. Then, slipping on regular sunglasses, I headed to the hospital for a full checkup.

The same doctor stared at my fresh test results, jaw slack. "A miracle! An absolute miracle! Your terminal illness is self-healing—odds are one in ten thousand! Hey, do you play the lottery? Give me your numbers—"

"No. Any other issues with my body?" That’s what mattered.

He scanned the reports again, shaking his head. "Perfectly normal. Your condition was always centered in the brain anyway. Kid, you’re blessed. Surviving something this rare? Thank God for this second chance. Cherish it."

*Is this a doctor or some street preacher?* Anyway, aside from the new face, my body hadn’t changed much—just slightly smaller frame and fairer skin. Did magic elements favor pretty faces too?

Back home, I tried meditating. The old man hadn’t lied. Ambient magic here was thin and chaotic, nearly impossible to absorb. A Mage’s path required condensing elements into stable Elemental Matrices, then embedding them into arcane runes for true transformation. Even a "once-in-a-century prodigy" like me stood no chance here.

*Whatever. Can’t level up? Fine.* I’d just drill those apprentice-tier spells. Better not get bullied later.

---

Early next morning, I carefully applied the alchemical Skin Mask, slipped on the newly arrived one-way glasses, and returned to school, heart pounding.

Oddly, after days away, no one seemed to notice my return. Only Hippo, my buddy from the back row, called out: "Yo, Wu Tong! Heard you had pneumonia. You good?"

"Few days in the hospital. All better now." I kept my tone casual.

"Glad to hear it. Would’ve been sad if you croaked early—" He squinted. "Wait. Glasses? Since when?"

"Reading too much lately. Got my eyes checked." I waved it off.

"Huh. I’ve been blurry on the board too. Should get mine checked…" He leaned closer. "But your lenses look all foggy. Dirty?"

He reached to grab my glasses. I slapped his hand away. "Expensive frames. Don’t touch."

"Jeez, stingy…" Hippo muttered, then froze. His eyes narrowed, scanning my face. I shifted nervously. "What? Got something on my face?"

"Wu Tong… you didn’t just get glasses. Did you get plastic surgery? Your face feels… off."

"Huh? You’re seeing things."

Guilty, I spun toward my textbook. But Hippo snatched my wrist, examining my hand on his desk. "Whoa. Since when’s your skin this smooth? And your hands—soft as a girl’s!"

Our baggy school uniforms covered most skin, but hands stayed exposed. Flustered, I yanked my hand back. "You ever even held a girl’s hand, you damn fatty?"

"I have a middle-school cousin! Held hers while shopping during New Year’s. But hers wasn’t this soft…"

"Ew! You creepy cousin-lover! Back off!"

The homeroom teacher walked in. Morning study began. I pretended to read, heart racing. This alchemical mask was rushed—bound to look fake.

Turns out I worried for nothing. All day, only Hippo seemed suspicious. Guess my old self was too forgettable to notice.

*Being ordinary has its perks.*

Though… class beauty Xu Wanyou did steal a few glances my way. Probably just curiosity. Nothing more.