Back in the classroom, the next class was politics.
Politics was even simpler—it relied purely on memory. In his current state, Yang Haoran felt like he had cheats turned on. He paid no attention to the teacher’s lecture and instead flipped through the politics textbook on his own, reading it with keen interest.
That bottle of mysterious potion had not only boosted his neurons to superhuman speeds but also granted him extraordinary eyesight. Together, they let him tear through the history textbook at a blistering pace: eight or nine seconds per page on average.
Not long after politics class ended, Yang Haoran sensed the cool sensation in his mind fading in intensity. His thoughts and vision grew hazy, as if shrouded in a white mist. Everything slowed, like gears grinding to a halt under layers of obstruction, crawling along at a torturous pace.
Having tasted that godlike efficiency, reverting to normal human limits hit him hard. The stark contrast left him reeling, and without thinking, he pulled out the small box.
Yang Haoran stared at the flat, makeup-compact-like box in his palm. He hesitated just as he was about to open it. The effects of this mysterious potion were simply too potent. He had no idea where his mother had gotten it, but it clearly wasn’t something easy to obtain.
After mulling it over for a while, Yang Haoran came to a decision.
No matter how miraculous, potent, or rare the potion was, his mother’s intention in giving it to him was for his studies. And right now was the perfect time to use it.
Yang Haoran downed the second bottle of learning potion. That icy chill flooded his brain once more, bringing back the familiar rush.
Math, history, Chinese, chemistry, physics, politics, geography… No matter whose class it was, he no longer wasted breaks. He studied in silence, plunging into an ocean of knowledge like a parched sponge, greedily absorbing every drop.
The one subject that frustrated Yang Haoran the most was English. You couldn’t learn it just by reading; he could memorize the entire textbook, but without pronunciation practice, it was all for nothing.
Once he realized that, he skipped over English.
This was the most diligent day of studying since Yang Haoran had started school—and the most rewarding.
As time passed, he used up the three bottles of learning potion. Aside from the tough nut that was English, he had mastered the semester’s material for every other subject.
After school that afternoon, Yang Haoran ignored Wei Ming’s invitation to hit the internet cafe for some gaming. He rushed home instead, his mind brimming with questions, confusion, and burning curiosity.
It was all thanks to that woman who seemed like a fairy descended to earth.
Once home, Yang Haoran searched around but didn’t see his mother anywhere.
He pulled out his phone and dialed the contact labeled “Mother.”
After a few rings, the call connected.
“Hello, Mother, where are you? Your child misses you.” Yang Haoran blurted it out before the other side could speak.
Hearing her son’s silly words, Liu Ruoxi fell silent for a moment on the other end. Then she said coolly, “Whatever it is, we can talk when I get home.”
With that, she hung up. From his excited tone, Liu Ruoxi knew exactly why her son was calling: the potions.
She hadn’t figured out how to explain it yet. Telling the truth would reveal the existence of the Fallen Angel Game, and she wasn’t mentally prepared for that.
Seeing that his mother had hung up, Yang Haoran had no choice but to suppress his raging curiosity for now.
The wait was long and agonizing. His little sister Yaoyao came home. His father arrived, briefcase in hand. But the mother who haunted his every thought was nowhere to be seen.
Yang Haoran was so anxious he nearly called again to hurry her.
It wasn’t until the sun dipped below the western horizon, painting the sky in crimson hues, that the familiar click-click of footsteps echoed outside the villa.
Yang Haoran rushed to open the door. There she was—his mother’s exquisite, coldly beautiful face, flawless to perfection. Her long, curled lashes framed a pair of slender, bright phoenix eyes, hooked at the inner corners and upturned at the outer. Willow-leaf brows arched gracefully above luminous, deep, and piercing eyes. A high, refined nose bridge led to bean-paste-colored lips, all set against the creamy expanse of her exposed swan-like neck.
She seemed to walk through a sea of rosy clouds, bathed in the sunset’s glow, with the evening light as her backdrop and the rosy clouds as her halo—like a goddess descending from the heavens.
The sight was so breathtaking that Yang Haoran stood there, entranced, unable to snap out of it for a long moment.
Only when she drew near, the glow fading as her figure eclipsed the sun, did he awaken from his daze.
“Mom, you’re back.”
Yang Haoran grinned widely. “You looked so beautiful walking over just now.”
“Mm.”
Liu Ruoxi gave her son a sidelong glance and responded with a lukewarm hum.
She was used to her son’s flattery and flowery words by now; they barely registered.
Unfazed by her reaction, Yang Haoran pressed on excitedly. “Mom, that stuff you gave me this morning? The effect is insane—like black tech or something.”
Deep down, besides his profound doubts, he couldn’t shake the vague connection to last night’s dream: that talking silver orb calling itself Barbarossa, an intelligent entity bound to the Controller’s Ring, something from beyond the stars. The Illusion Space was just one feature of that Fallen Angel Game.
They seemed unrelated at first glance, but both shared an otherworldly, supernatural aura.
So, a suspicion gnawed at him. If it was a game, there had to be players. Could his mother, the one who’d produced those mysterious potions, be a player in the Fallen Angel Game?
Or had last night’s dream been just a dream, or something real?
Truth be told, he knew little about the game itself. When the silver orb had casually mentioned its origins, it had mostly focused on the Illusion Space’s rules.
After spilling his thoughts, he watched his mother’s face intently.
Liu Ruoxi tensed inwardly. It had come, just as she’d feared. Composing herself, she parted her lips and said calmly, “A friend brought it back from abroad for me. It’s supposed to be a supplement. One bottle while studying perks you up and clears your mind. Looks like it worked well for you?”
Yang Haoran studied her expression and felt a pang of disappointment. The look in her eyes held a hint of curiosity, as if she didn’t fully know the potion’s effects herself.
In reality, Liu Ruoxi had never used a learning potion herself. The System Mall’s brief description had led her to underestimate its power and potency.
When she’d bound Shen Qing as a teammate to complete the system task, her claims about the potions had been little more than empty words.
Had she known their true effects, she might have regretted telling her son last night, “If you want these, earn them with your grades.”
