Time slipped quietly by amid the mundane rhythm of campus life.

No more incidents like “mathematical duels” occurred that day, allowing Jie Ming to devote most of his energy to absorbing classroom knowledge and the snail-paced circulation of spiritual power within his body.

When he unlocked the front door, he was greeted by silence.

No shoes belonging to his parents at the entryway. The living room was empty.

According to the schedule they had casually mentioned that morning, they were out doing the weekly grocery run at the big supermarket.

Staring at the overly pristine, empty house, a thought rose in Jie Ming’s mind.

An opportunity.

Instead of heading straight to his bedroom as usual, he stopped. His gaze sharpened as it swept across this space that was both “familiar” and utterly foreign.

He took a deep breath and began a systematic search of the entire apartment.

His first target: the master bedroom, the room of his “parents.”

Pushing open the door, the interior was so minimalist it resembled a show home. The bed was perfectly made, not a single crease; clothes in the wardrobe hung in meticulous color and season order; the dresser held only the most basic skincare products. No personal photos, no scattered keepsakes, not even a speck of dust.

This kind of cleanliness lacked the lived-in warmth and accumulated traces of real life; it felt freshly staged rather than long inhabited.

He carefully opened “Father’s” desk drawers and “Mother’s” nightstand. Aside from a few current popular magazines from this world and unopened stationery, they were completely empty.

No old letters, no diaries, no sentimental trinkets, no random odds and ends.

Next, he activated the holographic computer in their room.

A quick scan of browsing history and data logs: blank. Spotless, like a brand-new device.

They clearly hadn’t used the equipment for any personal activity in recent memory.

Finally, his gaze landed on the several family portraits hanging on the living-room wall.

In the photos, “parents” and child all beamed with radiant happiness.

Yet Jie Ming immediately noticed the high degree of repetition in backgrounds, clothing, and even the trio’s poses.

They looked less like real memories and more like mass-produced images from a handful of templates.

Moreover, upon closer inspection, the curvature of “parents’” smiles and the “pride” in their eyes were nearly identical across every photo, lacking the subtle, unique variations real emotion would produce.

“Too clean… suspiciously clean.” Jie Ming’s brows knitted tighter; the clouds of doubt in his heart grew heavier.

Just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock and his parents’ laughter came from outside.

Alarm flashed through him. He instantly schooled his expression, moved lightly and swiftly to the other side of the living room, and pretended to be emerging from the bathroom, wearing a natural look of mild fatigue.

“Dad, Mom, you’re back.”

“Mm, baby’s home from school? Perfect timing; we bought fresh ingredients at the supermarket. We’ll make your favorite tonight.” Mother smiled gently, carrying shopping bags toward the kitchen with fluid, natural movements.

Father nodded with a smile and set another bag on the table.

Dinner appeared warm and harmonious.

His parents inquired solicitously about his studies and once again expressed immense pride and delight that he had “successfully defended the honor of first place and earned the title of school bully.”

Their words and actions were the flawless embodiment of a middle-class couple who doted on and took pride in their child.

While eating, Jie Ming casually brought up a topic as if it had just occurred to him: “Oh, right, Dad; I suddenly remembered that astronaut model you gave me for my seventh birthday; the one I accidentally broke later. Where did it end up? I don’t think I’ve seen it again.”

“Father” didn’t hesitate for even a fraction of a second. A nostalgic smile immediately appeared as he answered, “That one? I carefully repaired it later with special glue; there’s still a little mark. Worried you’d break it again, I put it away for you. It’s in the third storage compartment at the bottom of your bedroom closet, tucked in the back.”

Jie Ming nodded thoughtfully. “Oh, okay. Thanks, Dad.”

At that moment, he “accidentally” knocked over his water glass. Clear liquid instantly spilled across the table.

“Whoops!”

Mother’s reaction was shockingly fast; she was already standing the instant the water spread.

There wasn’t the slightest trace of reproach or panic on her face; only that same gentle smile. She fetched a cloth and wiped everything up with practiced ease while softly saying, “It’s fine, sweetheart. You didn’t burn yourself, did you? Just be a little more careful next time.”

Her movements were smooth, her tone indulgent; perfect, without a single flaw.

After dinner, Jie Ming returned to his room and closed the door behind him.

He walked straight to the wardrobe, crouched, pulled open the third storage compartment at the bottom, and reached toward the back.

His fingertips soon brushed against something hard.

He pulled it out: the slightly worn astronaut model from his memories.

There was a clear repair mark on the arm where special glue had meticulously reattached it.

Jie Ming stared at the mended seam, fingers tracing the cool plastic surface. A complicated emotion suddenly welled up, and he let out a quiet sigh.

“So… it really is fake.”

The daytime search had already filled him with suspicion: the recycled photo templates, the parents’ bedroom stripped of all personal traces, the blank computer history.

The dinner-table test had only deepened those doubts.

He clearly remembered that his real father from his previous life had been a careless man who would never remember exactly where he’d stashed a broken toy years ago.

And his real mother, though she loved him, would never react to a spilled glass with such flawless, unconditional gentleness; her first response would have been scolding or an instinctive yelp.

Truth be told, these flaws were almost comically amateurish.

But that was precisely the problem.

Would a false world capable of imprisoning nearly two million wizards really commit such elementary mistakes?

Or rather: for an enemy of this caliber to leave such obvious cracks was, in itself, deeply bizarre.

Earlier, based on various clues, Jie Ming had thought he’d grasped the pattern and could roughly judge the nature of this plane.

Yet now he had fallen into even deeper confusion.

If an entity of this level truly wanted to construct a perfect cage, how could it leave such glaring imperfections?

Or… were these “flaws” deliberately shown to him?

To what end?

If the mastermind behind the scenes had already discovered his abnormality, they could simply erase him outright.

After all, Jie Ming remembered clearly: although casualties were rare in this plane, three unlucky wizards had still lost their lives.

Since three had already been killed, adding one more certainly wouldn’t matter to them.

If that wasn’t the reason, then what was really going on?

Was there something else hidden in this world that he still didn’t know?

“The day after tomorrow… when we go shopping, I’ll carefully examine the surroundings again.” Jie Ming returned the astronaut model to its place and began planning silently.

The information he currently possessed was contradictory and chaotic. The home investigation had reached a dead end. Perhaps turning his attention to the wider outside world would yield a new breakthrough.

He lay down on the bed, closed his eyes, set aside those headache-inducing contradictions, and once again sank his full consciousness into his dantian.