One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

First is Nie Lingfeng.

Today he was wearing the "standard student outfit" that Xu Si had dragged him to the mall to buy a couple of days ago: a simple plain white cotton crew neck T-shirt, a pair of well-fitting light blue washed jeans, and a pair of white sneakers. Xu Si's exact words at the time were: "College students should look like college students! Clean, sunny, and energetic! Don't carry around a knife like some ancient swordsman all the time, what if you scare your classmates?"

The clothes themselves were indeed ordinary. The problem was that Nie Lingfeng's current physique was the result of ten years of internal and external cultivation of the "Xuanwu True Scripture," supplemented by countless refinements of unique skills such as the "Wind God Leg."

Broad shoulders without appearing bulky, with smooth lines like a cheetah; a slender waist with inner strength, upright like a pine tree; long, straight legs, with well-proportioned muscles containing explosive power. This simplest of clothes, worn by him, somehow managed to exude the quality of a top male model on the runway, clean, crisp, and dashing.

Even more striking was his face. Sword-like eyebrows, bright eyes, a prominent nose, and well-defined features that weren't overly harsh. His long hair, tied in a high ponytail, swayed gently with his steps, a few unruly strands brushing against his brows and eyes in the breeze, adding a touch of untamed youthful charm. But his eyes, having witnessed life-or-death battles (though with fish in a icy pond) and seen the highest realms of martial arts, were calm and profound, occasionally flashing with a sharpness and clarity that transcended that of an ordinary student—a sharpness born of experience and wisdom.

These two contradictory qualities blended wonderfully within him, creating a unique and highly attractive magnetic field.

From the school gate to the nearest teaching building, along the short 300-meter tree-lined path, he received the following "stares":

Two female seniors, arm in arm, stopped in their tracks. One of them gasped, her voice low but filled with barely suppressed excitement: "Holy crap, look! That junior! A new face! That face... that physique... when did our school discover such a gem?!"

A few freshmen girls who had just finished class nearby let out a series of suppressed screams, shoving each other, their faces slightly flushed, their eyes constantly glancing over: "Isn't that the legendary transfer student? Even with the photos on the forum so blurry, he's still incredibly handsome! The real person is a total bombshell! Want to ask for his WeChat? Anyone want to?"

Several boys passing by glanced at Nie Lingfeng with complicated expressions. Some looked at him with pure admiration, while others couldn't hide a hint of jealousy and muttered, "Tch, so what if he's tall and handsome? Pretty boy..." Despite their words, their eyes couldn't help but linger on him for a few more seconds.

Even bolder girls have already quietly raised their phones, pretending to take a selfie, but actually adjusting the angle to include the walking focus in the frame, their fingers rapidly tapping the screen, clearly sharing this "major discovery" with their best friends or dormitory group chat.

Nie Lingfeng: "..."

He outwardly maintained a nonchalant, slightly curious "transfer student" demeanor, while inwardly he was frantically complaining: Did I use some kind of beauty filter on my face when I transmigrated? While I wasn't ugly in my previous life, I certainly wasn't this the kind of person who gets stared at wherever I go! Could it be that the *Xuanwu True Scripture* also has the added benefits of beauty enhancement, body shaping, and improved temperament? Is this... a hidden perk?

He quickened his pace, trying to get out of this "highlighted area" as soon as possible.

Then there's Feng Baobao.

Her "student look" was also Xu Si's creation: a light blue plaid long-sleeved shirt, layered with dark blue denim overalls, and white canvas shoes. Xu Si's intention was to create an image of a "Taiwanese girl with a touch of artistic freshness."

The clothes themselves were fine; in fact, they complemented her fair skin and delicate features. The problem lay in her "hardware" operating mode.

Feng Baobao walks in a perfectly straight line, her eyes never straying, as if every step has been precisely measured. Unlike ordinary girls who would look around curiously as they walk, she is never distracted by the hustle and bustle or interesting things along the way. Her gaze is always fixed straight ahead, with a focused concentration as if on a mission (although at this moment her mission might simply be to find the third canteen).

In addition, her highly distinctive language system:

She stopped a girl who looked friendly and asked in a clear, accented Sichuan dialect, "Excuse me, how do I get to the third cafeteria?"

The girl paused, clearly bewildered by the stark contrast in accent and vocabulary, and hesitantly asked, "Uh... what did you say?"

Feng Baobao tilted her head slightly, seemingly not understanding why the other person hadn't understood her, and repeated, "I asked, how do I get to the third canteen? Can't you understand my Mandarin?"

Girl: "...Listen, I understand. Turn right at the intersection ahead, and walk to the end of the road. That's the red brick building." She answered with some difficulty, her eyes switching back and forth between Feng Baobao's pretty face and her thick Sichuan accent.

"Thank you." Feng Baobao nodded and walked straight ahead. When she passed a cart selling Shandong pancakes, she stopped, pointed, and asked, "Boss, how much is one of these pancakes?"

"Five yuan." The stall owner was a middle-aged man.

"Five yuan? That's expensive." Feng Baobao looked at the pancake seriously. "Would you sell it for three yuan?"

Uncle: "...Miss, our prices are clearly marked, no bargaining."

Feng Baobao stared at the pancake for two seconds, seemingly weighing her options, but finally gave up and continued towards the Third Canteen, leaving the stall owner looking bewildered.

The students who witnessed this scene looked at Feng Baobao with rather complicated expressions: This transfer student girl is really beautiful, like she stepped out of a painting, but her accent... her bargaining style... her confident and aloof way of walking... something feels off. But they couldn't quite put their finger on what was wrong, it was just a strong sense of "out of place".

The two successfully completed the final registration procedures for new students (transfer students) at the Academic Affairs Office, received their textbooks, and then went to their respective colleges to report for duty as arranged.

Carrying a stack of brand-new, brick-like textbooks such as "Data Structures," "Operating System Principles," and "Computer Networks," Nie Lingfeng had just stepped into the somewhat old-fashioned laboratory building of the School of Information Engineering when he heard a deliberately hushed, excited discussion coming from around the corner of the corridor:

"Here he comes! It's him! The new transfer student in Computer Science Class 3!"

"Which one? Let me check the candid photos on the forum... Holy crap! He's even more handsome in person than in the photos!"

"His aura is amazing! He has both a youthful charm and an... indescribable maturity! Does he have a girlfriend? Go find out!"

"What's the rush? I heard we're assigned to Zhang Chulan's dorm. Being close to them is a great advantage!"

Nie Lingfeng paused slightly, then continued upstairs without changing his expression, inwardly sighing: It seems that keeping a completely "low-key" campus life from now on will be a bit difficult. Perhaps... he should consider wearing a mask?

Meanwhile, at the back door of a large classroom in the School of Literature where a class on "History of Ancient Literature" was being held.

Based on the information given by Xu San, Feng Baobao found Zhang Chulan's class. She stood at the back door, tilted her head slightly, and her gaze swept precisely over the dozens of faces in the classroom, finally settling on a seat by the window in the third-to-last row.

Zhang Chulan was looking down, his fingers rapidly swiping across his phone screen, his face bearing a deliberately crafted expression that was slightly lazy and conveyed a sense of "I'm just an ordinary underachiever," as he tried to blend in with his classmates who were either listening attentively, secretly playing on their phones, or daydreaming.

Feng Baobao didn't knock; she simply pushed open the back door.

"Squeak—"

The not-so-loud sound of the door opening still stood out clearly amidst the professor's calm lecturing. Several students near the back door instinctively turned around.

Then, half the classroom noticed the unfamiliar face that had suddenly appeared.