Author Archives: Thingyan

Ch 152: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

The last time Ren You purchased over a dozen knives capable of harming aberrants from Lu Yao for 30 Ghost Coins each, he distributed a few to the patrolling officers who had come with him and handed out the rest to colleagues at the church upon his return.

The knives proved to be highly effective. During several missions, they encountered attacking aberrants and used the weapons to rescue colleagues caught by these creatures. The casualty rate among church staff dramatically decreased in a short period.

The church staff, initially demoralized due to the disappearance of the Quiet Chamber, found a glimmer of hope and a reason to smile again. It felt as though they finally had something they could rely on for protection.

However, just a few days later, colleagues began reporting that they had accidentally lost their knives.

They were well aware of the Ghost System’s storage function vulnerabilities, which occasionally led to items disappearing. Most people were cautious and avoided putting valuable items in the storage pouch, but some, being careless, would forget and toss their knives into the pouch, only to find them missing when needed.

In the first couple of days, only one colleague lost a knife, and everyone else reminded each other during missions not to store weapons in the pouches. Yet, in the following days, knives continued to disappear under various circumstances, even when the patrol officers refrained from using the storage function.

By the time Ren You and Jiang Lin sought Lu Yao for help, all the weapons issued to the church’s patrol officers had vanished.

The most bizarre case involved Jiang Lin.

That afternoon, while patrolling the northern district with Ren You, they encountered a girl sitting by the roadside who bore a striking resemblance to Cai Yuxing. The girl sat there, eyes vacant and dull, showing signs of early-stage mutation.

Jiang Lin got out of the vehicle to check on her but hadn’t even approached when a sudden tentacle-like appendage snatched the folding knife hanging at his waist.

Ren You and Jiang Lin had originally planned to return to the church through the staff-only passage, but due to this incident, they decided to turn back and ask Lu Yao for assistance.

Cai Yuxing glanced at Jiang Lin and said, “How could I possibly appear in such a place? Besides, I work at the DIY Workshop, which is said to be the safest place on Ghost Street right now. You really don’t need to worry about me.”

The spot where Ren You and Jiang Lin encountered the figure resembling Cai Yuxing was a deserted path just before entering the staff-only passage from the northern district.

Jiang Lin lowered his gaze, still shaken by the earlier incident, and remained silent.

Liu Jing draped an arm over Cai Yuxing’s shoulder, teasingly smirking. “This is what happens when someone cares too much.”

Cai Yuxing stayed serious. “I understand. But sometimes it’s worth thinking more deeply. Thankfully, this time they were only after the knife, not a person.”

The thought that she might have become Jiang Lin’s psychological weak spot, exploited by those creatures, filled Cai Yuxing with dread.

Lu Yao waved dismissively. “The scariest part of this isn’t the missing knives. It’s that they seem smarter and more calculated than before. They even knew Jiang Lin would stop when he saw someone resembling Cai Yuxing. That’s far beyond what ordinary aberrants are capable of.”

Ren You slapped the table in agitation. “Exactly! That’s what Jiang Lin and I are most terrified of. Just thinking that they might disguise themselves as trusted people around us gives me chills.”

Aberrants typically lack normal cognitive abilities, acting purely on instinct. They shouldn’t be capable of such precise actions as seen today.

Pei Qi’s face darkened significantly. “It learns. It grows.”

Lu Yao added, “The All Knowing God?”

Everyone turned to look at Pei Qi at this remark.

Pei Qi subtly nodded, sat tensely for a long while, and slightly opened his mouth but ultimately said nothing.

From the corner of her eye, Lu Yao noticed three official staff members standing silently behind the table like shadows, their arrival unnoticed.

These three were the eyes and ears of him. A thought flashed through Lu Yao’s mind, and she retrieved two Ghost Bracelets from her storage. “Since the knives are gone, let’s turn our attention to the new product about to be launched in the shop. This is the Ghost Bracelet. It features instant communication, storage functions, and a dedicated combat system for its users. It also has a small feature that will perfectly solve your current problem.”

Ren You and Jiang Lin accepted the Ghost Bracelets, their eyes filled with curiosity, as the shopkeeper’s lengthy introduction passed by like background noise.

Suddenly, Cai Yuxing clapped her hands in excitement. “So that’s it. He and his followers cannot use Ghost Bracelets.”

The consciousness detection system built into the bracelet could evaluate the mental state of the wearer, making it impossible for his followers to activate them.

Lu Yao nodded. “This is a very significant discovery. The bracelets have a potential area for improvement.”

Ren You and Jiang Lin looked through the instruction manual and noticed that Liu Jing, Cai Yuxing, and Pei Qi were all wearing identical silver bracelets.

Ren You asked, “How much does this cost?”

Lu Yao replied, “The ones you’re holding are the first edition, currently priced at 200,000 each. If the church decides to make a bulk purchase, there could be discounts.”

Ren You’s eyes widened. “200,000? The knives last time were only 30!”

Lu Yao said calmly, “You can think it over. If this doesn’t suit you, that’s fine. I still have stock of those knives from before—31 pieces to be exact. Oh, and we recently started offering custom storage rings. They’re safe, affordable, and portable, priced at just 880 for custom orders.”

Ren You was tempted by the storage rings. Compared to the 200,000 Ghost bracelets, the 880 Ghost ring seemed much more cost-effective.

He ended up buying 20 ordinary knives for 600 Ghost Coins and placed an order for a storage ring at 880.

Jiang Lin, on the other hand, purchased three knives but neither ordered a storage ring nor bought a Ghost bracelet.

That evening, after the store clerks finished their training and left, Lu Yao closed the shop and returned to Ghost Street with the Ghost bracelets she had reclaimed from her staff.

The first batch of Ghost bracelets consisted of only 20 units. Ji Linkai and Song Wen had not returned theirs, but the remaining 18 were now in Lu Yao’s possession.

She planned to immediately upgrade the bracelets, adding a new consciousness-scanning feature.

Currently, the built-in consciousness scanning system only served the bracelet wearer. The upgrade would allow users to scan the mental states of others nearby.

With this feature, bracelet users could confirm the consciousness states of their colleagues and friends at any time.

He learns and grows.

But then, who doesn’t?

…

Standing on the familiar shopping street, Lu Yao watched the streetlights flicker on. The warm breeze brushed against her face, clearing her thoughts.

At the entrance of the hot spring inn stood Budu, holding a massive block of ice in his arms, gazing at her with a pitiful expression.

Lu Yao had been spending most of her time recently at the pet cafe, researching the Ghost bracelet. Visits to the nail salon and the hot spring inn had become scarce.

The summer heat in Yaoguang City was unbearable, and Budu could hardly step outside.

Fortunately, the Nitean continent had already transitioned into the Twightlight Moon Season, and the weather was cooling down.

On most days, Budu could still take walks around the Thorn Valley, helping Lu Yao maintain the various facilities she had built on the Nitean continent, such as the dandelion cable car and solar thermal panels. Ji Feichen also visited Budu daily.

Crossing the street, Lu Yao walked toward the hot spring inn and led Budu inside. “Haven’t you been eating properly lately? You look thinner.”

Budu clutched the ice block tighter and followed her. “I’m not thinner; I’m melting.”

Lu Yao sighed. “Should we go back to Qianmen Mountain? I can take you there.”

Budu shook his head. “Mother cannot approach Qianmen Mountain. You don’t need to worry about me. It’ll get better by winter.”

Lu Yao sighed again. “Summer isn’t even over yet, and winter is still so far away.”

Budu, unwilling to leave Lu Yao and return to Qianmen Mountain alone, shifted the topic proactively. “Are the Ghost bracelets useful?”

Lu Yao nodded. “Yes, they’re useful, but I’m planning to upgrade them.”

Ji Qingyan brewed a cup of herbal tea using plants from the Nitean continent and casually asked, “Upgrading so soon?”

“Things have changed,” Lu Yao replied, sipping the tea, its fresh, woody aroma calming her. “By the way, I’m planning to hire two new staff members with expertise in computer science. If you know any suitable candidates, feel free to recommend them.”

As she spoke with Ji Qingyan, Lu Yao pulled out her phone and posted the hiring notice in the internal staff group.

Ji Qingyan asked, “Are you looking for someone to manage the main server next door?”

The Ghost bracelet main server was located beside the DIY Workshop on Ghost Street. Following a system prompt, Lu Yao had placed the server on the bustling street where stores overlapped across two dimensions. While the DIY Workshop on Ghost Street couldn’t connect to the internet, the storefronts physically present in the street’s real-world space, including the DIY Workshop and the main server next door, could access the network.

However, network connectivity was limited to areas within the real storefront spaces. Extra-dimensional expansions and the Ghost Street region outside the DIY Workshop were inaccessible to network signals.

In Ghost Street, the communication between bracelets relied on Lu Yao’s ability—wish energy. All Ghost bracelet-related information was funneled through the wish energy network to the DIY Workshop and then transferred to the main server via a network that he could not infiltrate.

He would never cross the stargate, ensuring the server’s security. The trade-off was the need for two additional staff members to manage the server.

Lu Yao originally planned to work overtime at the pet cafe that evening, but seeing Budu’s pitiful expression, she couldn’t bear it. She pulled a chair to the windowsill at the hot spring inn and decided to work there instead.

The little people hadn’t seen Lu Yao in a while. Whenever she visited, it was always in a rush, leaving little time for conversation. Seeing her sit down, the little staff swarmed around her, eagerly sharing the latest gossip from the inn and the Nitean continent.

Heici had grown taller. Using a ruler, Lu Yao measured the little one—he had reached 5 centimeters.

Beef Cube had gained weight, its round body now paired with long limbs. It spun wildly on the table, chasing its tail like a meatball with toothpicks for legs rolling around.

Yuanwei, Zhu Zhou, Jiexiang, and Ziye all came to chat with Lu Yao, excitedly reporting a bountiful harvest of rock potatoes and wild vegetables planted in the valley. Plenty of dried meat had been stored during the Sunshine season, ensuring the Twilight Moon season wouldn’t be as tough this year.

The new divine tree was thriving, even more lush than its predecessor. The Shenmu Tribe’s chief estimated it would bear fruit in just a few years, ensuring the survival of the Nitean little people.

Listening to their chatter, Lu Yao worked on the Ghost bracelet in her hands, busy until late at night. Before turning off the lights, she, Budu, and the overly excited Heici and Beef Cube took a stroll around the Thorn Valley. Under the light of two massive moons, the ground shimmered with a silver frost.

Compared to six months ago, the Thorn Valley now resembled a vast, ancient city. The stars sparkled overhead while ground lights stretched endlessly. Clusters of tiny mushroom-like houses dotted the landscape, wastelands had been reclaimed as orderly fields, insects chirped in unison, and the cool night breeze carried a hint of tranquility.

After the nighttime walk, Heici and Beef Cube bid farewell to Lu Yao and Budu at the inn’s entrance. They looked back repeatedly as they slowly made their way home. Lu Yao and Budu stayed at the door, watching until the two safely reached their home before returning to rest.

…

Midnight. Ghost Street, South District.

Ji Linkai lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Click—click—click.

A faint sound echoed outside his door, barely audible.

Ji Linkai strained his ears, then silently got up. His bare feet touched the floor as he stood, his face shrouded in the darkness, eyes sharp as they locked onto the door ahead.

Given his unique status, his room was in the most concealed location—the basement of the entire building.

It was past midnight. No sane resident of Ghost Street would still be wandering outside, not even within their own homes.

The basement had long hallways and over twenty rooms, but Ji Linkai was the only occupant. At this hour, there shouldn’t be any sounds.

Thump, thump—thump, thump.

After a few seconds of silence, the thumping sound continued.

Ji Linkai’s entire body tensed, and his gaze slowly dropped.

He had been outside for a long time today. He must have found him.

At this hour, everyone else was resting upstairs. No one could save him, and he couldn’t risk involving anyone else.

The Desert Eagle he had crafted earlier in the day was hidden beneath his pillow, loaded with three bullets.

He had made it with leftover materials after returning to his quarters, but the bullets were just ordinary ones.

Minutes passed, and Ji Linkai’s expression grew increasingly grim. He thought he could hear the slick, sticky sound of something slithering across the rough basement floor, like a massive golden octopus struggling to crawl on land, leaving a trail of dampness in its wake.

Then, all the sounds stopped abruptly, as if everything he had just heard was a dream.

But Ji Linkai didn’t dare relax. Sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled down the side of his face, leaving an itch along its path that he had to endure without moving, holding his breath as best as he could.

Thump, thump, thump.

“Ji—Linkai—”

“I—found—you.”

Click.

The door lock yielded under brute force, offering no resistance. In the dense darkness of the night, the door creaked open, and a golden tentacle slid through the gap.

Ji Linkai’s arm trembled involuntarily. In this moment, fear nearly paralyzed him.

The light switch was just beside his bed, but he didn’t have the strength to reach for it.

Creeeak.

The long, grating sound of the door being pushed open made his teeth ache. The noise of wet, slimy skin dragging resumed—it was coming in.

Ji Linkai swiftly reached under his pillow, grabbed the Desert Eagle, and blindly fired two shots forward.

The basement had no windows, and the lights were off, leaving the room in total darkness. However, Ji Linkai had lived here for two years.

Two months ago, when Tienbrain was still operational, he had trained his perception in this very room at night.

Those exercises hadn’t seemed useful during the last mission, but the effort wasn’t wasted. He heard two dull thuds followed by a muffled groan that the creature couldn’t conceal.

He hit it!

A sudden surge of energy coursed through Ji Linkai. Relying on his familiarity with the room’s layout, he found the light switch and turned it on without hesitation.

The brightness banished the darkness. Ji Linkai blinked twice to adjust to the harsh light.

In the next moment, the Desert Eagle slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor beneath the bed with a crisp sound.

A heavy despair clouded Ji Linkai’s eyes.

The two bullets had hit their mark. He could see two holes in one of the massive tentacles waving inside his room. But the damage seemed insignificant—it didn’t even slow the creature down.

Its bloated, glistening body filled the dingy basement. Two vertical slits glimmered in its golden eyes, locking onto Ji Linkai’s pale face. Then it spoke.

“So, your name is Ji Linkai.”

“Did you enjoy the seafood tonight?”

“You ate so much shrimp and grilled eel, mouth dripping with oil. You looked like you were having a great time.”

Ji Linkai’s almost frozen thoughts jolted awake at those words. The aberrant knew he had eaten seafood that evening. And its voice—there was something disturbingly familiar about it.

He must have heard that voice somewhere before, but the memory eluded him for now.

Still, the creature’s words reminded him of something important.

As Ji Linkai’s thoughts shifted, the enormous golden tentacle lashed out toward him. In the blink of an eye, it coiled around his waist and hoisted him high toward the ceiling.

The octopus-like creature sneered, “I’ll crush you until your blood and flesh splatter all over the walls, like a mosquito smashed into dust, leaving nothing but a smear on the floor.”

Ji Linkai’s face turned red as he struggled, his legs flailing wildly, eliciting a hearty laugh from the creature.

Bang!

“Argh!”

A bloody hole pierced through the underside of the tentacle holding Ji Linkai. The searing pain left the creature momentarily paralyzed, its screams echoing through the room.

Ji Linkai dropped to the floor, rolling away to avoid the creature’s thrashing limbs. He gripped the wish-powered revolver tightly in his hand.

Without hesitation, he steadied himself, raised the revolver, and fired two shots at the golden octopus’s head.

“AAARGH!”

The tentacles flailed wildly, slamming into walls and shaking the entire building.

Ji Linkai scrambled to find cover, but the chaos left him battered as he was struck twice by the flailing limbs. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he rolled into a corner, leaned against the wall, and struggled to lift the revolver again. He aimed at the creature’s head and fired once more.

The massive target made it easy to aim. As the bullet streaked through the air, Ji Linkai thought he saw a golden trail behind it. A moment later, the bullet hit its mark.

The golden octopus froze in place, its bloated tentacles suspended mid-air in a grotesque, twisted pose.

Seconds passed, or perhaps it was minutes. Ji Linkai watched as a cluster of rounded, pulsating flesh balls began to form at the edges of the tentacles. The lumps grew larger and more numerous, hanging like tumors on the octopus’s bald head. Then, with a deafening blast, the pale pink orbs exploded like soap bubbles.

The splatter of flesh and viscera covered the walls. Ji Linkai buried his face against his knees but still ended up drenched in the sickening chunks and slime.

It took at least five minutes for the grotesque explosion to subside. When it was finally over, Ji Linkai braced himself against the wall and stood up, limping toward the center of the room. There, he saw someone lying motionless.

When he got close enough to see the person’s face, a bitter, self-deprecating smile crossed his exhausted features.

So, it was him.

…

In the dormitory area on the first floor, the narrow, dimly lit hallway remained eerily silent.

Even though the basement had felt like an earthquake moments ago, not a single person upstairs came out to investigate.

But amidst the oppressive silence, a set of footsteps echoed slowly and unnervingly.

Several minutes later, the figure stopped in front of a door and knocked three times.

There was no response from inside.

Outside the door, Ji Linkai stood, drained and weary. He knocked again, more firmly this time, but still received no answer.

“Song Wen, it’s K. Open the door. I need to talk to you.”

Inside the room, Song Wen crouched in a corner, too afraid to make a sound.

The shaking from earlier had woken even the heaviest sleepers, but now was definitely not the time to open the door—no matter who was outside, even if they claimed to be his grandmother.

Ji Linkai waited for several minutes, but the silence persisted. A complicated expression crossed his face as he stood there, unmoving.

He felt a fleeting sense of relief, but it was tinged with bitterness.

In the dead of night, opening the door was forbidden—it was their last line of defense.

But in the face of true malice, this door was as fragile as paper, offering no real protection.

Ji Linkai stood in the darkness for a few minutes before knocking gently one last time. “I just wanted to tell you, if you’re awake, take out your Ghost bracelet immediately and activate the combat system. He has found me. By dawn, I will leave.”

His footsteps gradually faded into the distance. Inside, Song Wen sat on the bed, running his fingers over the silver bracelet on his arm.

The voice was K’s.

It didn’t sound like a lie.

The tremors from earlier confirmed that those things had come. By morning, they would have to leave as well.

But should he activate the combat system?

Song Wen summoned the system panel and scrolled to the Wish Box section, torn with indecision.

…

Just as Lu Yao’s consciousness began to fade into sleep, she jolted awake.

She sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. The warm yellow light pushed back the darkness, dispelling the sudden, overwhelming fear in her chest.

Someone had activated the combat system.

Twenty minutes later, as she was drifting off again, another disturbance roused her.

Someone had signed a contract in the middle of the night, making a wish to her through the Wish Box.

The Wish Box system was similar to what the goddess Fula once did by expending her divine power. However, Lu Yao merely lent a portion of her wish energy to the defenseless people on Ghost Street, helping them escape danger.

The cost was that every time they clashed with him, she could sense it, as if an unblinking eye was watching from above.

Lately, Lu Yao had started to feel the strain. Just earlier, she had absorbed a surge of fear that didn’t belong to her.

Sighing, she picked up the Regulation Rod and dutifully began crafting a second Wish Box, all the while thinking about how she would complain to the Dream Fulfillment System when it returned.

Everything she was doing was to prepare for its recovery.

…

Morning

Having slept less than two hours, Lu Yao woke and got out of bed, yawning as she headed to the DIY Workshop.

The three volunteer clerks, along with Chen You and Gan Qing, arrived one after another. By breakfast time, Huang Qi was still absent.

Lu Yao asked Gan Qing and Chen You, “Why didn’t Huang Qi come with you?”

Gan Qing shook his head. “No idea.”

Chen You thought for a moment, then replied slowly, “He—went out—last night—to clean. Didn’t—come back.”

Lu Yao frowned. “Clean what?”

Chen You shook his head, feigning ignorance.

Halfway through breakfast, a guest arrived.

Ji Linkai stormed into the DIY Workshop, his imposing demeanor catching the staff mid-meal. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed back his words, distracted by the aroma. “What are you eating for breakfast? Smells amazing.”

Lu Yao hadn’t expected him so early. Remembering the questions she hadn’t had a chance to ask the previous day, she replied casually, “There’s seafood congee. Want some?”

The mention of “seafood” made Ji Linkai flinch. Recalling the reason he had come, he turned and left the shop. Moments later, he returned, dragging a young man with his hands tied—none other than the missing Huang Qi.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ch 151: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

The afternoon session at the DIY Workshop was still focused on the metalworking experience. Pei Qi, Liu Jing, and Cai Yuxing each took charge of guiding one operation classroom.

Ten minutes before the activity began, customers who had registered in the morning started arriving at the shop.

The three instructors checked the registration list, ensuring that the registered customers arrived on time, and then escorted them to their respective classrooms in an orderly fashion.

As the reputation of the DIY Workshop grew, it began attracting a wide variety of customers.

At first, customers were drawn by novelty and purchased large quantities of materials, most of which were used up during the activities.

However, within a few days, Luo Yao noticed a troubling trend—some customers were deliberately stockpiling materials. While “malicious” might not be the most accurate term, certain individuals were clearly hoarding materials from the DIY Workshop without using them during the activities, instead sneaking them out for unknown purposes.

Analyzing the situation and considering Ghost Street’s peculiarities, Luo Yao deduced that some customers were likely trying to use the workshop’s unique materials for external projects.

While she could understand their intentions—admiring their quick thinking, even—it wasn’t beneficial for the development of the DIY Workshop. So, the next day, Luo Yao implemented a new rule: customers could purchase a maximum of three extra sets of materials per session.

Initially, some customers protested, arguing that the shop shouldn’t restrict material purchases and claiming that business shouldn’t be so rigid. If materials were being sold, why should it matter whether they were used in the shop?

Luo Yao didn’t argue with them. Instead, she responded by lowering the limit on additional materials to two sets per session.

This unexpected move backfired on the protesting customers, who had hoped to pressure Luo Yao into relaxing the restrictions. They stopped causing trouble, silently labeling the young shop owner as “difficult to deal with.”

Despite these changes, the DIY Workshop’s business continued to thrive, with a steady flow of customers every day.

The volunteer staff were responsible for guiding customers, while Chen You and Gan Qing prepared materials and cleaned the operation classrooms. Huang Qi managed the front desk and registration.

The three full-time staff members assigned by the Street Committee attended training sessions alongside the volunteer staff every evening, though Luo Yao hadn’t yet allowed them to guide customers.

Based on the noon testing with the Ghost Bracelets, Chen You seemed close to returning to a normal state.

However, Huang Qi, as Luo Yao had initially predicted, had the deepest level of mutation and showed no improvement during his days at the DIY Workshop.

…

The system used in the Ghost Bracelet to test mental states was inspired by Luo Yao’s experience operating the pet cafe in the Eden Sea World. There, she had created the Ghost Phone System, using the power of the Deep Sea Goddess and her divine emissaries, the Waterdrop Seals, to assess the mental state of customers calling to book therapy sessions.

To date, the Ghost Phone System had evaluated over 200,000 mental state profiles, with the data stored in the pet cafe’s fishing room system.

Using the Ghost Phone System as a foundation, Luo Yao developed the consciousness testing system for the Ghost Bracelet, referencing the wealth of data she had accumulated.

The consciousness test used a baseline of 50 as the normal value:

Above 50: Normal state, allowing full use of the Ghost Bracelet.
30–49: Yellow state, indicating partial loss of consciousness.
10–29: Blue state, indicating severe mental deviation.
Below 10: Black state, indicating a complete lack of autonomous consciousness.

The yellow, blue, and black states all indicated an inability to activate or use the Ghost Bracelet.

…

Luo Yao sat by the entrance to the mobile classroom, lost in thought. The doors to the three operation classrooms were closed, sealed with magic soundproofing barriers to keep the noise contained.

The mobile classroom was open but had few customers. Most people struggled to make anything without tutorials and still preferred signing up for the guided experience activities.

Luo Yao wasn’t in a hurry. She knew the mobile classroom would be put to good use eventually. For now, she considered hiring two new staff members.

The new hires would need to come from the commercial street, preferably professionals in the computer field.

Luo Yao instinctively reached for her phone but stopped midway, reminding herself to avoid using electronic devices in the DIY Workshop whenever possible. She made a mental note to post a hiring inquiry in the staff group chat later that evening, hoping for referrals.

She also wanted to conduct more tests on the Ghost Bracelets before officially launching them. Perhaps the church could…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps at the end of the hallway.

Luo Yao looked up to see Huang Qi peeking out from around the corner. Spotting her, he pointed toward the man walking ahead of him with an exasperated expression. “I told him we’re fully booked, but he insists on coming in.”

Luo Yao waved him off, signaling that it wasn’t worth worrying about.

The tall, lanky man wore a slightly worn green work uniform, with a pair of goggles hanging around his neck and a massive black leather case in hand.

Seeing Luo Yao sitting at the door, he quickened his pace and stopped half a meter from her. “I’m K. Are you the shop owner?”

Luo Yao stood up and nodded. “What’s the matter?”

K replied, “I want to purchase one of your shop’s Ghost Bracelets.”

Luo Yao immediately realized, “You’re a friend of Song Wen?”

K nodded. “Yes. I saw the Ghost Bracelet he had and found it very intriguing.”

After a brief consideration, Luo Yao agreed.

“It’s a beta version—200,000 Ghost Coins per unit.”

K lifted the leather case and handed it to her. “200,000. You can count it. I’d like to pick it up now.”

When the case was opened, the sight of glistening gold was almost blinding. It was packed full of golden octopus notes, each with a denomination of 100.

In Ghost Street, 100 Ghost Coins equaled one golden octopus note, and the case contained a total of 200,000.

The golden octopus notes were also valid in the Ghost Bracelet’s exchange system.

As Luo Yao hefted the case, she couldn’t help but think, If only this were real money.

Ghost Street was a virtual game world, and the thought of trading real materials for virtual currency occasionally gave Luo Yao pangs of regret. This practical consideration also justified her firm stance on limiting material purchases.

After counting the money, Luo Yao retrieved a small silver box from her personal warehouse and handed it to K.

K opened it, glanced briefly at the contents, then closed it again. His gaze shifted to the sign on the mobile classroom’s door, which displayed a notice: Mobile Operation Classroom: 20 Ghost Coins per hour.

K took out another golden octopus note.

Luo Yao directed him to the front desk for registration.

After paying at the front desk, K entered the mobile classroom, Ghost Bracelet in hand.

The mobile classroom featured transparent individual workstations and was more spacious than the specialized operation classrooms across the way. Each classroom housed 30 independent stations.

After registering at the front desk, customers received an access card specifying their workstation number. K’s card directed him to Station 6. With only five other customers in the room, the space felt much quieter compared to the bustling classrooms across the hall.

K scanned the room, observing the occupants. Each person quietly worked within their station, surrounded by various materials. Some were sculpting with clay, others carving wood, sewing clothes, or forging metal.

One customer at a forging station caught K’s attention. They were crafting a gemstone tassel necklace—far more intricate than the DIY Workshop’s standard tutorials. That person was likely a professional jeweler in the real world.

Suddenly, K raised an eyebrow slightly in recognition. He had spotted an acquaintance.

The familiar figure was also forging, with two folding spring knives on the workstation. Though the designs were rough, the blades had been polished to an exceptional sharpness and gleam.

K noticed the man intently polishing the blade in his hand and chose not to interrupt. Turning on his heel, he walked toward Station 6.

He placed his access card on the scanner, and the glass door silently slid open.

K stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and quickly realized that not only was each station fully enclosed, but it also featured extremely effective soundproofing.

From the outside or inside, there was no visible sign of the soundproofing system, yet the interior was utterly silent. He couldn’t hear any noise from the other workstations earlier, either.

This place isn’t bad, K thought. Perfect for focused research.

He sat down and took out the Ghost Bracelet and its manual from the box.

After carefully rereading the manual, K picked up the bracelet to examine it closely.

The Ghost Bracelet’s exterior was smooth, with no visible ports or seams. On the inner side, however, there was a slightly crooked black ring entwined with golden lotus branches. Inside the ring was a single character, “Yao.”

K then slammed the bracelet onto the workstation with significant force. The metallic clanging was sharp and clear, but neither the bracelet nor the workstation showed any signs of damage—not even a scratch.

Judging by the exterior alone, it didn’t reveal much.

After a moment’s thought, K put on the bracelet, and a semi-transparent interface immediately appeared before him.

He had already memorized the manual and quickly went through the activation and binding process, exploring the communication, storage, and microtransaction functions.

Compared to the Ghost System, the Ghost Bracelet’s interface and features felt much more like a proper player’s operating system.

K’s attention then shifted to the final section on the panel—Wish Box.

He reached out and tapped to open it. Shocking red warnings immediately filled the screen, cautioning the user about engaging in an extremely dangerous operation.

The design of this system was almost cruel. It offered the user a glimmer of hope while blatantly warning them they might be making a deal with the devil.

The creator of this Ghost Bracelet, K mused, is even more ruthless than the one ruling this street.

She didn’t just demand participation—she demanded conscious, willing submission.

Exhaling slowly, K pressed the “Confirm” option at the bottom-right corner of the red warning screen. A golden contract appeared on the panel.

The contract listed the parties involved: K’s real name, Ji Linkai, and the Ghost Bracelet’s Wish Box provider. The key clauses could be summarized as follows:

The Ghost Bracelet wearer would undergo a one-sided consciousness binding with the Wish Box provider.
After binding, the wearer would gain a combat system tailored to their abilities.
If the wearer chose to sever the binding, all memories related to the Wish Box and the combat system would be permanently erased.
An absolute confidentiality clause prohibited the wearer from disclosing any details about the Wish Box or the combat system. This clause was enforced unconditionally.

Without hesitation, K pressed his fingerprint at the bottom of the contract.

The screen displayed a loading message for the Wish Box, with an estimated wait time of five minutes.

…

Meanwhile, Luo Yao had returned to the break room. Having completed the Ghost Bracelet development earlier that morning, she planned to take a half-day break, confident that the shop was running smoothly. She covered her legs with a blanket, preparing to enjoy a leisurely nap.

Just as she was about to relax, she felt a jolt—someone had just bound the Wish System to their consciousness. Startled, she sat up.

In less than half a day, someone had signed the contract.

The name was Ji Linkai.

Luo Yao quickly deduced that Ji Linkai was K, the man who had purchased the Ghost Bracelet earlier.

Binding to her required using one’s soul as a medium, a technique Luo Yao had learned from the demon god—a crucial skill she had mastered.

Though intrigued by the name, Luo Yao had no time to dwell on it. She had five minutes to prepare the Wish Box.

…

K sat motionless at his workstation, his gaze fixed on the countdown timer on the Ghost Bracelet’s interface.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1—

Suddenly, the previously gray interface turned celebratory, with bright red panels filling the screen. With a booming effect, a black gift box with gold edges appeared, adorned with a ribbon tied into a butterfly bow. A golden lotus branch twined delicately around the ribbon.

“Congratulations, Ghost Bracelet user Ji Linkai, on successfully obtaining your Wish Box!”

“Would you like to open the Wish Box?”

Ji Linkai silently responded, Yes.

The Wish Box opened, and several puzzle-like colored blocks scattered across the screen.

After a few seconds, the pieces began to float in midair, and a mechanical voice devoid of emotion sounded in Ji Linkai’s mind.

“Ji Linkai has activated Wish Box No. YLXT000001!”

“Ji Linkai has acquired the combat system: Firearm Mastery.”

“Ability: Firearm Mastery. Current Level: 1.”

“Ability Description: The ability holder can control all firearms within a three-meter radius centered on themselves. The ability holder can use Wish Points to create special firearms and Wish-powered bullets. Wish-powered bullets can purify aberrants below Level 3 on Ghost Street. The purification index of Wish-powered bullets increases with the level of the special firearms and the ability.”**

Ji Linkai stared at the ability description for a long time without moving.

It might have been five minutes, or perhaps longer, before he raised his hand to gently pinch the bridge of his nose, gradually digesting the information.

The Wish Box hadn’t exaggerated—it had indeed provided him with the most suitable ability for his skills.

Before arriving on Ghost Street, Ji Linkai had been a hardcore weapons enthusiast, particularly fond of collecting model firearms.

His models were high-end replicas; apart from being unable to fire real bullets, every component was faithfully reproduced to scale.

Most of his savings had gone into collecting these models, and he was intimately familiar with the disassembly and assembly of various firearms.

A few months ago, a mysterious voice had suddenly appeared in Ji Linkai’s mind, calling itself Tienbrain. It granted him extensive knowledge about firearms and claimed it needed weapons.

At the time, Tienbrain even supplied materials, allowing them to operate covertly in the Southern District. After two months of preparation, they launched an ambitious god-slaying operation.

The results were catastrophic.

Many people disappeared, and eventually, even Tienbrain’s voice faded from Ji Linkai’s mind.

Before vanishing, Tienbrain seemed to mumble, “I failed. I can’t return. If only… I always felt we could win.” Ji Linkai didn’t catch the name Tienbrain mentioned.

Now, with the Wish Box and his newfound ability from the Ghost Bracelet, Tienbrain resurfaced in Ji Linkai’s thoughts. The similarities were uncanny.

However, Ji Linkai had long suspected that Tienbrain wasn’t a singular entity and likely wasn’t the person occupying his thoughts at the moment.

None of that mattered now. Ji Linkai steeled himself—he had to test this ability immediately.

Unfortunately, the Desert Eagle he had crafted was back at headquarters. Ji Linkai raised his gaze and noticed someone standing outside his workstation—it was Xing Yong, the man who had been polishing blades earlier at Station 5.

Xing Yong and Ji Linkai had known each other in the real world. Both were weapons enthusiasts: Xing Yong loved researching ancient cold weapons and collecting models. They had met several times at flea market stalls and eventually became friends.

To Ji Linkai’s surprise, they had both ended up on Ghost Street not long afterward.

Ji Linkai stood up and opened the door.

Xing Yong stood at the entrance but didn’t step inside. “When I saw you earlier, I thought I’d mistaken you for someone else. But looking closer, it really is you. What are you doing in the Northern District?”

Though they had quickly reunited after arriving on Ghost Street, the two lived in different districts. After Ji Linkai got involved with Tienbrain, his busy schedule kept them from meeting for quite some time.

Following the failure of the god-slaying operation, Tienbrain had protected Ji Linkai from becoming mutated.

Wary of implicating others, Ji Linkai had been lying low in the Southern District, rarely venturing out.

Ji Linkai: “This shop has been quite popular lately; even people in the Southern District are talking about it. I came to check it out.”

Xing Yong: “Not entirely honest. I watched you for a while—you were just fiddling with that bracelet and didn’t make anything.”

Ji Linkai: “The bracelet’s something I bought from the shop owner. I’m studying it. By the way, I want to make some bullets. It’s my first time here, so I’m not familiar with the place.”

Xing Yong glanced curiously at Ji Linkai’s bracelet but didn’t press further. Instead, he enthusiastically began explaining how to use the mobile classroom.

“This place is really something. Come with me. The row of machines near the front door are vending machines with sorted materials: metals, textiles, rubber, food ingredients—pretty much anything you’d need for crafting. The row of cabinets near the back door is for tool rentals. They’ve got everything. Just swipe your access card on the sensor in front of the tool you want, and when you’re done, settle the bill at the front desk. Oh, and if the vending machines don’t have the materials you need, you can register your request at the front desk. They might have it next time you visit—the same goes for tools.”

Ji Linkai was genuinely surprised. The design of this classroom felt excessively sophisticated, even for Ghost Street.

Xing Yong chuckled at Ji Linkai’s reaction. “I believe this is your first time here. I was just like you when I first came—everything felt novel. The classroom has been open for a while, but it’s always quiet here. I even thought about suggesting to the shop owner that they rename it. Something like ‘Room of Requirement’ would fit its purpose better and maybe attract more curious people.”

Ji Linkai didn’t know how to respond.

Xing Yong seemed utterly unburdened by the usual gloom and uncertainty of Ghost Street, openly expressing his admiration for the DIY Workshop.

Ji Linkai rented a few tools and purchased some materials from the vending machines. He discovered that the limited metal materials in the main classroom were available here as well, with a cap of five units. However, the prices were a third higher.

He bought five units of materials, returned to Station 6, and followed the Ghost Bracelet’s instructions to attempt crafting a special firearm and bullets powered by Wish Points.

Due to limited materials and a pressing desire to test his ability quickly, Ji Linkai decided to make a small revolver along with six Wish-powered bullets.

Before starting, Ji Linkai checked his available Wish Points via the bracelet.

The system reported that he could generate 6 Wish Points per hour.

Only 6 points? Ji Linkai felt a bit deflated.

The system explained that crafting one Wish-powered bullet required 6 Wish Points, while making a revolver required 128 Wish Points—this was in addition to the base material costs.

Ji Linkai suddenly felt that the Ghost Bracelet’s baseline Wish Point generation was overly restrictive, significantly limiting its functionality and making it feel somewhat impractical.

Having spent a small fortune on materials but lacking enough Wish Points, Ji Linkai idly browsed the interface until he reached the exchange page.

The exchange rate was 30,000 Ghost Coins for 3 Wish Points, with a maximum exchange frequency of once per week.

Cursing himself for being a sucker, Ji Linkai grudgingly deposited 30,000 Ghost Coins into the Ghost Bracelet’s storage slot, transferred it to his account, and proceeded with the exchange.

“You have successfully exchanged 3 Wish Points!”

Three points weren’t even enough to craft a single bullet. Frustrated, Ji Linkai exited the exchange page and opened the combat system tab instead.

To his surprise, the previously grayed-out and inaccessible crafting station for special items was now highlighted in gold and selectable.

Moreover, the 3 Wish Points he had purchased hadn’t been added to his regular Wish Points balance but appeared in a separate golden section.

A small note clarified:
“System-exchanged Wish Points are 100% pure Wish Energy.”

What was the difference between pure Wish Energy and his own generated Wish Points?

Ji Linkai couldn’t figure it out, but with the presence of those three points of pure Wish Energy, the combat system’s DIY section seemed to be operational.

Setting aside his doubts for the moment, he began sketching designs for the revolver and Wish-powered bullets on the interface.

Two hours later, the blueprints, complete with detailed parts, were finished.

Standing up to stretch his stiff shoulders, Ji Linkai noticed that Xing Yong from the adjacent workstation had left at some point, leaving a note stuck to his door.

Ji Linkai picked it up, glanced through it, and initially intended to tuck it into his pocket. After hesitating, he stored the note in his Ghost Bracelet instead.

After a brief rest, he began crafting the parts with the Ghost Bracelet’s assistance.

The DIY section of the Ghost Bracelet was impressively advanced. Once the blueprints were uploaded, it evaluated the design, matched materials and tools, and used Wish Energy to produce a flawless component in just a few minutes.

The entire process took about two and a half hours. By the end, his three points of pure Wish Energy were completely consumed, leaving Ji Linkai with a table full of neatly crafted components and six Wish-powered bullets.

After spending a few minutes assembling the revolver and loading it with bullets, he realized there was no place to test the gun.

Fiddling with the freshly completed Wish-powered revolver, Ji Linkai was suddenly hit by an overwhelming wave of hunger and fatigue. Checking the time, he realized it was already past 7 PM. No wonder he felt starving.

The classroom was now completely empty, with him as the last occupant.

Quickly tidying up his workstation, returning unused materials, and checking in the rented tools, Ji Linkai dragged his wobbly legs out of the classroom, only to be greeted by an irresistible aroma that made him instinctively swallow.

The break room door was ajar, and the staff inside were having dinner together.

Ji Linkai stood at the doorway for a few seconds, his hunger so intense he felt like drooling.

What are they eating?
The smell was heavenly.

Luo Yao wasn’t in the break room but was sitting in the main hall with Huang Qi, eating boxed meals. After creating a Wish Box that afternoon, which had drained a lot of her energy, she treated herself to grilled seafood for dinner.

Ji Linkai barely managed to suppress the urge to beg for food and staggered out of the classroom, nearly collapsing in the process.

Luo Yao looked over at him and kindly called out, “Do you… want something to eat?”

Leaning against the wall for support, Ji Linkai seemed dazed. “I can eat?”

Luo Yao: “You look overexerted. Eating something will help you recover.”

Ji Linkai’s eyes practically glowed green as he stared at the spread in front of Luo Yao—grilled tiger prawns, glossy, oily grilled eel, and massive mantis shrimp, each larger than a forearm.

Summoning the last shred of his self-control to suppress his overflowing saliva, Ji Linkai maintained a semblance of politeness and sat across from Luo Yao. “How much? I’ll pay.”

Luo Yao: “Just eat first. Do you want seafood?”

Ji Linkai nodded, barely containing his excitement.

…

The meal turned into a whirlwind of eating. By the time Ji Linkai finally set his chopsticks down, reluctant but too full to continue, he couldn’t even sit up straight.

If only golden octopus coins could be turned into grilled seafood this delicious, he thought wistfully.

As the last customer of the day, Ji Linkai left a stack of notes on the table before bolting out of the store without looking back.

Luo Yao had intended to ask him something, but by the time she turned around, he was gone.

Cai Yuxing remarked with amusement, “His ears were bright red when he left.”

Luo Yao, expressionless, replied, “And only after eating?”

Liu Jing chuckled. “He really enjoyed it. Watching him eat made me hungry.”

Luo Yao: “If you’re craving something, let’s order some late-night snacks.”

But the other staff members all shook their heads. They still had lingering apprehensions.

…

Outside the DIY Workshop

A few patrol motorcycles parked by the entrance, and Ren You walked in with Jiang Lin.

Upon seeing Luo Yao, Ren You’s face immediately turned pitiful. “Boss, all the knives were swallowed.”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ch 150: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

Song Wen’s companions waited by the door, watching as he exchanged a few words with the shop owner before following her back into the operation classroom.

One of them asked, “Why is he going back in?”

Another replied, “Maybe the storage bag isn’t finished?”

“Forget it. It’s probably nothing serious. We only managed to grab three sets of materials this morning, used one for practice, and still need to get the rest to K quickly.”

“Too many people are hoarding materials. Since the shop started limiting purchases, it’s getting harder to grab anything, and we can’t risk putting them in the storage bags. If the DIY Workshop’s storage bags worked as seamlessly as the Ghost System, that would be ideal.”

When people first arrived on Ghost Street, they had access to a personal in-game system called the Ghost System. This system included player information, a communication function, and a storage feature.

Initially, newcomers treated Ghost Street like a casual holographic game, using the Ghost System freely. But it wasn’t long before they discovered troubling issues: the system leaked personal information, frequent usage increased the chances of mutation, and items stored within it often vanished without reason. Over time, people abandoned the Ghost System entirely.

“Probably unlikely. The DIY Workshop’s owner might be unusual, but she’s no match for Lord Tienbrain. Even Tienbrain can’t defy him, let alone an ordinary person.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how it goes. Still, the materials from the DIY Workshop are definitely special. K said their properties are better than the specialized materials outside.”

“It’s just data. You can tweak it however you want. Honestly, I’m more curious why he allows her to run this shop on Ghost Street.”

“Who knows.”

“But we might as well take advantage—”

Before they could finish, Song Wen emerged from the hallway, his expression unusually strange.

Companion A asked, “What’s wrong? Didn’t get it?”

Song Wen shook his head, motioning for his companions to follow him to a secluded spot. Once there, he covered his mouth with his hand and whispered, “I got the storage ring.”

Before he could explain further, one companion grabbed his wrist. “What’s this bracelet? Something you made in class?”

On Song Wen’s left wrist was a plain silver bracelet. Its smooth, unadorned surface appeared simple yet inexplicably refined.

The other companion frowned. “There wasn’t a bracelet tutorial.”

“Is this the storage item the shop owner gave you?”

Once they reached the shadowy depths of an empty alleyway, Song Wen clarified, “It’s not a bracelet. The storage item the shop owner gave me is this ring.”

The companions then noticed the silver ring on Song Wen’s left index finger. The ring, similar in color and material to the bracelet, had intricate patterns on its surface, making it look even more exquisite.

Before they could ask further, Song Wen summoned the ring’s storage interface.

A semi-transparent screen appeared, showing only six slots. The bottom-left corners of four slots displayed “030.”

The first slot contained a handbag, and the second slot held a small booklet, both labeled with “130” in the bottom-left corner.

With a thought, Song Wen dismissed the storage interface.

His companions stared, momentarily stunned.

“It actually seems pretty good. Works a lot like the Ghost System’s storage space.”

“And if it’s just the size of a ring, it’s super convenient.”

“Is it safe?” one of them asked.

Song Wen shook his head. “Not sure yet. I’ll test it out for a few days.”

The companion nodded. “If it works well, I’ll order one too in a few days.”

At this point, Song Wen raised his bracelet. “No rush. The shop owner said this bracelet also has storage capabilities. Let me test it for a few days, and if it’s good, you might want to consider buying this instead.”

Finally mentioning the bracelet piqued his companions’ curiosity.

“What does the bracelet do?” one of them asked.

Song Wen’s expression turned mysteriously serious. “This bracelet is powerful. It has communication features, storage functions, and even… a combat system.”

“Isn’t that just like Ghost Street’s built-in Ghost System?”

“No, the Ghost System doesn’t have a combat feature.”

His companion looked skeptical. “Did you test it?”

Song Wen replied, “I only had time to activate the interface and check the system panel. It works like the storage ring—once bound, you can summon it directly.”

“So, the shop owner gave you this as a beta test?” the companion asked.

Song Wen nodded. “The shop owner said the bracelet’s functions overlap with the ring’s, so she offered it to me at a beta version price. Once the bracelet officially launches, I can return to the shop for a free upgrade to the latest version.”

The scent of profiteering was undeniable.

“How much is the beta version?” another companion asked.

“Two hundred thousand Ghost Coins,” Song Wen answered.

“…”

Both companions stepped back, their eyes wide, staring at Song Wen as if he had been scammed.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Song Wen said defensively. “The shop owner assured me that the price will be adjusted upon release, and it won’t be less than two hundred thousand.”

His companions couldn’t listen any longer, convinced that Song Wen had been taken advantage of by the DIY Workshop’s owner.

A storage ring for just over 800 Ghost Coins and a Ghost Bracelet for 200,000? No simple functionality upgrade could justify such a pricing jump.

Song Wen touched the bracelet on his wrist, unbothered by their judgment. “Money’s useless here anyway. I might as well spend it. Consider it paying for novelty. If it turns out great, I’ll let you know.”

With that, Song Wen and his companions exited the alley, flagged down a car, and headed back to the southern district.

…

DIY Workshop, Lunchtime

In the break room, the staff gathered around the dining area to eat their boxed lunches, provided as part of the shop’s employee meals.

Every day at lunch, an unfamiliar middle-aged man would deliver the meals. The staff didn’t know his real name or identity—they only heard the shop owner call him “Xiao Ji.”

Xiao Ji would hand over the meals at the door without stepping inside.

The employee meals had become a unique perk of working at the DIY Workshop and were now a daily highlight for the staff. They all agreed the meals were better than the snacks Luo Yao occasionally provided or anything they made themselves.

However, none of the staff dared to eat seafood. Only Luo Yao would occasionally order seafood rice or stir-fried seafood, leaving the staff both tempted and apprehensive.

After lunch, Luo Yao took out three small silver boxes and handed them to the three volunteer staff members. “These are products the shop will be launching soon. Consider them employee benefits—take them for a trial run and help test for bugs.”

Inside each box was a silver bracelet and a user manual.

The volunteers retrieved the items and read through the manuals, but they were left puzzled—the bracelet’s features seemed beyond their understanding.

The bracelet offered three main features:

Communication: After completing the binding and registration process, Ghost Bracelet owners could communicate with others who owned a Ghost Bracelet. Features included adding friends, chatting, and forming teams. This function resembled standard in-game communication systems. However, the manual included a small note at the end: “All information within this system is secure and cannot be intercepted by HIM or his followers.”
Storage: The storage system included 12 slots, with a maximum capacity of 100 identical items per slot (Compared to Song Wen’s storage ring, the Ghost Bracelet offered significantly more storage space). Additionally, the bracelet’s storage capacity could be upgraded using Wish Points.
Wish Points: Unlike Ghost Coins, Wish Points were a virtual currency unique to the Ghost Bracelet. They could be used to redeem virtual items and upgrade the system. Wish Points were generated passively by the bracelet’s owner, calculated hourly.

While the concept seemed straightforward, the volunteers were astonished by the bracelet’s capabilities. It was clearly no ordinary item.

The fine print in the instructions stated: The amount of Wish Points generated per person within a set time frame depends on individual circumstances, with no specific rules.

Additionally, bracelet users could exchange Ghost Coins for Wish Points directly on the bracelet.

Exchange Rate: 10,000 Ghost Coins = 1 Wish Point
Cycle: Exchanges could only be made once every seven days, with a maximum of 3 Wish Points per cycle.

The volunteer staff reading this note couldn’t help but feel exasperated.

Since Wish Points could already be generated naturally, it seemed absurd that anyone would willingly spend 30,000 Ghost Coins every week to buy just 3 Wish Points.

Luo Yao noticed their expressions but didn’t explain. She had deliberately set strict rules to discourage excessive exchanges. However, those who did attempt the exchange would notice a distinct difference between purchased Wish Points and those generated naturally.

The existence of Wish Points also introduced a payment-like feature to the Ghost Bracelet. In essence, it resembled a pay-to-win system.

Users could load Ghost Coins into the bracelet to exchange for Wish Points or purchase certain virtual services.

As for what virtual services the bracelet offered, the instructions didn’t provide any specific details yet.

The third feature, and the Ghost Bracelet’s core distinction from the Ghost System, was the combat system.

Before accessing the combat system, bracelet owners had to sign an additional contract. Upon signing, they would receive a Wish Box.

Opening the Wish Box granted the user a combat system tailored to their individual abilities.

The manual did not elaborate on the combat system but included a bold, red warning at the end:

“Users who sign the contract will gain access to the combat system and undergo a one-sided consciousness binding with the system provider. Users have one and only one chance to unlink and deactivate the combat system. After deactivation, all memories related to the combat system will be permanently erased. Use binding and unbinding permissions with caution.”

This concluded the Ghost Bracelet’s instruction manual.

Liu Jing read slowly, her unease growing with every red-letter warning. While the bracelet’s features were undeniably appealing, the warnings felt ominously suggestive, making her hesitant to take any further action.

Suddenly, Cai Yuxing let out an exclamation. Liu Jing turned to see that Cai Yuxing had already put on the bracelet and completed activation and binding.

After fiddling with the bracelet for a while, Cai Yuxing looked up at Luo Yao and asked, “Who is the system provider?”

Luo Yao replied, “That’s confidential.”

Pei Qi, glancing between the manual and the bracelet, interjected, “Who else could it be but the shop owner?”

Cai Yuxing naively said, “If it’s the shop owner, I feel safe binding it.”

Luo Yao interrupted firmly, “Think carefully before making any decisions. To put it simply, the agreement signed before using the combat system is similar to the contracts made by followers of him.”

Cai Yuxing’s lighthearted expression instantly disappeared. The weight of the comparison sobered her, and her brows furrowed deeply.

Liu Jing was so startled she dropped the bracelet, her face turning pale.

Luo Yao added, “You have three days to decide whether to activate and bind the bracelet. If you choose not to use it, just return it to me.”

Cai Yuxing, somewhat deflated, held up her bracelet and said, “I already activated it.”

Luo Yao smiled reassuringly. “That’s fine. As long as you don’t use the combat system, it’s no different from having an advanced smartphone.”

Cai Yuxing hesitated before asking, “Boss, did you give a bracelet to a customer this morning?”

Luo Yao replied, “Not quite. The customer was interested in the bracelet, so I sold them one at the beta version price.”

“How much?” Cai Yuxing asked.

“Fairly cheap—200,000 Ghost Coins,” Luo Yao answered calmly.

Cai Yuxing: “…”

Liu Jing: “…”

The two suddenly felt that the silver bracelets in their hands seemed far more valuable than before.

200,000 Ghost Coins was no small amount.

Pei Qi didn’t say anything further, instead continuing to study the bracelet and instruction manual.

Luo Yao didn’t mention giving bracelets to the other three staff members. Chen You and Gan Qing remained as silent and indifferent as ever, showing no apparent interest.

Only Huang Qi stopped Luo Yao, asking, “Boss, what about us? Don’t we get one?”

Without a word, Luo Yao handed Huang Qi a similar small silver box.

Huang Qi took it, quickly scanned the manual, and put on the bracelet immediately.

A semi-transparent screen appeared before his eyes, and Huang Qi raised an eyebrow as he pressed his fingerprint onto the screen.

Suddenly, the transparent screen turned red, and a voice prompt sounded:

“Your mental state has been detected as black, deviating from normal levels. Activation of the bracelet is temporarily unavailable.”

Everyone in the break room heard the prompt, their expressions shifting in various ways.

Huang Qi looked completely bewildered, even a little wronged.

Luo Yao said calmly, “It’s not that I don’t want to give you the bracelet—it’s just that the three of you aren’t currently able to use it.”

Gan Qing’s pitch-black eyes turned slowly as he extended his hand toward Luo Yao, speaking sluggishly, “I want one too.”

Luo Yao handed him a bracelet and, noticing Chen You’s expectant gaze, gave her one as well.

Gan Qing put on the bracelet.

“Your mental state has been detected as blue, deviating from normal levels. Activation of the bracelet is temporarily unavailable.”

Chen You pressed her lips together, visibly excited as she donned her bracelet.

“Your mental state has been detected as yellow, deviating from normal levels. Activation of the bracelet is temporarily unavailable.”

Luo Yao promptly retrieved all three bracelets. “When you’re able to activate them normally, you can have them back.”

This left not only Huang Qi but also Gan Qing and Chen You feeling a subtle sense of being unfairly treated, a mix of grievance and frustration.

Meanwhile, the three volunteer staff members looked at their own bracelets, deep in thought.

Luo Yao had spent a significant amount of time and energy designing and creating the Ghost Bracelets and wasn’t in a rush to push the staff into using them.

Although the devices were called “Ghost Bracelets,” they were, in truth, part of a larger Wish Power System.

The concepts of Wish Points and the Wish Box were inspired by Luo Yao’s experiences over the past year. She used technology and abilities far beyond the dimensions of this world to create the Ghost Bracelet.

The volunteer staff might still be hesitating, but in reality, they had no other choice. The Ghost Bracelet was destined to become popular on Ghost Street.

…

Southern District Street

Song Wen and his companions got out of the car and navigated through a series of twists and turns along the desolate streets, eventually entering an abandoned building.

As they climbed the stairs, they ran into some acquaintances coming out of the materials room.

These acquaintances informed Song Wen’s group of exciting news—K had successfully crafted a Desert Eagle using materials scavenged from the DIY Workshop.

However, there weren’t enough materials left to produce ammunition. That afternoon, they planned to return to the DIY Workshop to try and gather more supplies.

Song Wen and his companions were thrilled.

They had finally taken another step forward.

The Southern District had been devastated by divine punishment following a massive riot several months ago, leaving many residents missing. Compared to the Northern District, it now resembled a ghost town.

Despite this, the survivors hadn’t given up on finding ways to save themselves.

Their first encounter with the DIY Workshop came during that dawn-illuminating fireworks display, when someone received a jellyfish-shaped flyer.

Initially, Song Wen and his grandmother had been drawn to the flyer’s promotion of the DIY food activity. However, during their first visit, they sensed the workshop’s unfathomable depth.

Gradually, they began organizing trips to the DIY Workshop, joining the activities while secretly collecting materials to bring back to the Southern District for their technicians to experiment with crafting weapons.

In just a few short days, their technician, K, had crafted a Desert Eagle using the special metals provided by the DIY Workshop.

How could this not excite them?

When Song Wen and his companions arrived at the materials room, they happened to find K there as well.

K, a man in his thirties, wore green camouflage work clothes, goggles, and gloves. His unshaven face and sluggish demeanor gave the impression of someone perpetually exhausted.

Song Wen’s group handed over their materials and struck up a conversation with K, asking about the progress on the Desert Eagle.

K responded with calm detachment, his voice low and subdued, offering only a few brief answers.

Suddenly, K raised a hand, removed his goggles, and grabbed Song Wen’s wrist. “What is this?”

Before Song Wen could explain, his two companions eagerly jumped in, complaining about how Song Wen had been overcharged by the DIY Workshop’s owner.

K attempted to remove the bracelet from Song Wen’s wrist but found it couldn’t be taken off.

Song Wen explained, “The bracelet is already activated and bound to my identity. It can’t be removed.”

K held Song Wen’s hand, examining the bracelet closely. His previously lethargic demeanor vanished, replaced by a sharp intensity that startled everyone. “I want to see the manual.”

Song Wen, still unfamiliar with the Ghost Bracelet’s full capabilities, had stored the manual in his storage ring.

When K saw Song Wen summon a completely unfamiliar interface, his eyes widened even further. “What’s that?”

Song Wen replied honestly, “It’s a storage ring, independent of the Ghost System, used to store items.”

K asked, “That’s also from the same shop?”

Song Wen nodded.

K skimmed the Ghost Bracelet’s manual at lightning speed, absorbing its contents in moments. Without another word, he pushed Song Wen aside and strode toward the door.

The materials room administrator called after him, “You forgot your materials!”

Without turning back, K replied, “Leave them for now. I’m heading out.”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ch 149: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

Liu Jing still couldn’t quite grasp Luo Yao’s explanation and voiced her doubts. “The staff on Ghost Street are all followers of him. They’ve forsaken themselves, offering everything to him, willingly becoming its apostles in the human world. And now, after just two days working in the DIY Workshop, they suddenly want to be human again?”

Cai Yuxing found it hard to accept. “Fully transformed divine apostles—can they really turn back into humans?”

Figures like Gan Qing, Chen You, and Huang Qi, who retained partial consciousness, were selected from ordinary transformed individuals for their mental resilience. They served as his right-hand operatives, secretly controlling shops on Ghost Street and manipulating both the shop owners and customers.

Luo Yao couldn’t help but think of the residents of Dreamland, who could freely transform into terrifying creatures in the paradise, only to revert to their original forms when leaving the special space.

But in Dreamland, only the soul existed as a true entity. Dead souls altering their appearances was merely a change in their soul’s projection, without affecting their essence. Of course, the forms they assumed often reflected their own will—after all, as beings who had shed all illusions of the living world, they had no reason to lie to themselves.

Ghost Street differed from Dreamland in that it was still part of the living world. Everything unusual occurring on this street could be explored using the logic and reasoning of the living.

Ghost Street also wasn’t like Tales of The Six Realms, a game Luo Yao had launched on the Floating Continent. In that game, the “Heavenly Ladder” and its final update, the “True Ladder,” were grounded in the real illusions of the fourth and fifth floors of the internet café. In contrast, Ghost Street seemed to be a completely digital, code-generated fantasy street.

The residents of Ghost Street weren’t their real selves either, but merely projections of human consciousness. The characters that appeared on the street initially resembled the players’ real-life appearances, but the mechanics seemed to dictate that lost individuals would lose their sense of humanity, their mental state gradually deteriorating until they transformed into monsters and defected to the boss faction.

However, if their consciousness was stimulated again by external factors, their human cognition could reawaken.

Piecing together Gan Qing and Chen You’s situation, Luo Yao confidently told Liu Jing and Xiao Cai, “It’s likely possible to restore a mutated individual’s humanity by repeatedly stimulating their consciousness.”

Liu Jing and Xiao Cai exchanged glances, still not fully understanding.

Pei Qi, who had entered unnoticed, stood silently at the side. Suddenly, he spoke to Liu Jing and Xiao Cai. “The boss’s explanation makes sense.”

Not knowing Pei Qi well, Liu Jing and Xiao Cai were skeptical.

Pei Qi continued, “Have you forgotten why this street is called ‘Ghost Street’?”

Liu Jing and Xiao Cai’s faces paled slightly.

Ghosts—souls without bodies, wandering remnants.

The inhabitants of Ghost Street weren’t even complete souls, merely fragments of consciousness.

Suddenly, many things clicked for Liu Jing and Xiao Cai. A chill ran down their spines, and their scalps prickled. The terrifying symptoms of transformation and loss weren’t physical changes but signs of a person’s last bastion of mental strength being completely overrun—kneeling in submission before him.

Once he devoured them, nothing of that person would remain.

Seeing the two staff members pale and clearly frightened, Luo Yao clapped her hands gently, snapping them out of their thoughts. She spoke softly, “There’s no need to worry too much. As long as one keeps moving forward, consciousness doesn’t fall so easily. Even he cannot completely overthrow and control an individual’s will.”

If Luo Yao’s guess was correct, simply helping transformed individuals regain their consciousness wasn’t the key to clearing the game.

The true solution might lie in separating the players’ consciousness from the game and awakening them in the real world.

The Dream Fulfillment System likely existed outside the game in the real world.

For now, Luo Yao didn’t have enough information to make further assumptions, but she decided to test this direction.

While earlier she had been fretting over how to manage the three full-time staff, Luo Yao now had some ideas.

As the evening cleanup wrapped up, Luo Yao led the six staff members into a Mustard Seed training session.

With the food-themed activity concluded, the DIY Workshop would soon launch a new event.

Since none of the staff were professionals in the craft industry, they needed to undergo training before the event began.

The system reminded Luo Yao not to let anyone see her abilities. She had privately considered this before but concluded it was unavoidable.

Without the Dream Fulfillment System nearby, Luo Yao had to personally handle everything in the shop, making it inevitable for her to use her abilities.

Still, she had the staff re-sign confidentiality agreements—partly to mitigate risks, partly as a test. Luo Yao wanted to understand the priority between their contracts with him and the confidentiality agreements.

By the time they entered the Mustard Seed space, Gan Qing and Chen You had regained their composure, appearing back to their roles as staff. Huang Qi, on the other hand, was as carefree as ever, showing no visible changes compared to the other two.

For the next experience activity, Luo Yao had two plans: miniature woodworking toys and a simplified metalworking experience. Since both activities needed to happen eventually, she decided to combine their training, letting the staff choose based on their interests.

Both woodworking and metalworking traditionally have a high entry threshold. DIY activities, however, focused on the experience itself, similar to vocational experience venues in the real world that allow participants to explore professions they don’t normally encounter.

Drawing from her own expertise, Luo Yao had pre-recorded two 90-minute tutorial videos. Some tools and raw materials were sourced from the Alexander Continent and the Floating Continent.

These tools and materials, imbued with fantasy elements, significantly lowered the difficulty of entry while adding an extra layer of enjoyment to the activities.

The six staff members were awestruck upon entering the Mustard Seed space. They spent considerable time just exploring the tools and materials. Encountering the unusual properties and functions of some materials for the first time, they finally felt a sense of being inside a game.

After familiarizing themselves with the tools and materials and watching the tutorial videos, the staff formally began their training.

The three volunteer staff all chose the metalworking group, while the “Cthulhu” staff picked up knives and began carving wood.

Thanks to the Mustard Seed’s ability to manipulate time, the staff completed a full day of training, but only a few minutes had passed in the real world. When they clocked out, it was still before 9 PM.

As Luo Yao closed the shop, she spotted the bartender from the Abyss Bar again.

As usual, he had a golden octopus perched on his head, his expression blank. He hadn’t further transformed, but neither had he shown signs of recovery.

Just as before, Luo Yao gave him a slight nod in greeting and closed the door.

Returning to the operation classroom area, Luo Yao used her abilities to set up and upgrade two mobile operation classrooms, a process that would take 24 hours to complete.

She then gathered a stack of design blueprints and returned to the shopping street. Her priority was to complete the special system and the equipment to host it, tailored to meet the needs of Ghost Street customers.

For programming, she needed to hold a meeting with Ji Qingyan and Cheng Ye, possibly involving 1041 and his team as well.

As for the equipment to host the system, Luo Yao planned to build it herself. She had decided not to use magic or spells in its creation.

The hot spring inn had Ji Qingyan scheduled for night shifts that week, while at the internet café, Cheng Ye had swapped shifts with Xiao Zhong and started night duty at the beginning of the month.

Luo Yao messaged them both and headed straight to the pet cafe.

Half an hour later, Ji Qingyan, Cheng Ye, and 1041 and his team convened at the pet cafe to begin their late-night meeting.

Luo Yao held the chubby Leilei close, burying her face in its thick, plush fur and taking a deep breath.

Indeed, the fluff was incredibly soothing.

Recharged, she lifted her head and began explaining the purpose of the late-night meeting to her staff and collaborators.

For Ji Qingyan and Cheng Ye, this was their first time learning about the new shop’s peculiar situation. The same went for 1041 and his team, who found the idea of such a bizarre world hard to grasp.

“Are you sure this is within a holographic game?” someone from 1041 and his team asked.

Luo Yao replied, “Ninety-five percent sure. The remaining five percent will be confirmed once we finish building the equipment.”

1041 and his team still found it unbelievable. “If that world is truly inside a game, how can both your shop and you, as a real entity, navigate it so seamlessly?”

Luo Yao had some ideas but chose not to elaborate—they involved explaining the existence of the Dream Fulfillment System.

The group’s initial surprise quickly gave way to enthusiasm for tackling such a novel and challenging task. They immersed themselves in discussions about turning the shop owner’s concept into reality.

As the system had indicated, Luo Yao had access to resources and technologies from multiple worlds, coupled with substantial R&D experience and the Mustard Seed space, which significantly shortened development time in the real world.

Three days later, Luo Yao and the team completed the product for the new DIY Workshop—a Ghost Bracelet.

…

Returning to the DIY Workshop from the pet cafe with the newly created Ghost Bracelet, Luo Yao entered to find the lobby as lively as ever. Over ten customers were seated, waiting.

Following the conclusion of the food-themed DIY activity, the shop had launched its metalworking experience.

Metalworking, broadly speaking, refers to processing and manufacturing activities involving metallic materials. It ranges from jewelry crafting to the production of large machine parts for automobiles and ships, down to minute components like watch mechanisms.

The DIY Workshop’s focus was on jewelry-making, offering three tutorial options for customers: a beginner’s smooth-surface ring, gem-adorned earrings with mold assistance, and an advanced metal necklace.

The activity was a hit among customers.

All three operation classrooms were fully booked morning and afternoon. Even customers who hadn’t registered were reluctant to leave, opting to sit and wait in the lobby instead.

Luo Yao arrived just as the morning session ended. Customers trickled out of the operation classrooms, holding paper bags stamped with the DIY Workshop’s logo, containing their morning creations.

Spotting Luo Yao, Song Wen squeezed through the crowd with difficulty to reach her. “Boss, why weren’t you here this morning?”

During the food-themed sessions, Song Wen had come to the shop daily with his grandmother. After the switch to the metalworking activity, his grandmother stopped coming, but Song Wen and a group of young people continued their visits.

Three days ago, he had commissioned a storage bag from Luo Yao.

Luo Yao retrieved a small silver box from her personal warehouse and handed it to him. “The storage bag has been designed as a ring. Take a look. If you don’t like it, we can modify it.”

Song Wen opened the box to find a simple silver ring resting on dark gray velvet. Barely five millimeters wide, the ring featured delicate, indiscernible patterns etched onto its surface using an unknown technique. On the inside was an extremely small “Yao” character. The craftsmanship was far superior to the ring he had just made himself during class.

He slipped the ring onto the index finger of his left hand—it fit perfectly.

Inside the box was also a sheet of paper: the instruction manual.

After reading through the instructions, Song Wen glanced at Luo Yao and gently pressed his thumb against the surface of the ring. A sharp, tingling pain shot through his finger, numbing his knuckle momentarily before fading away. The ring itself showed no visible change.

Following the manual’s instructions, Song Wen silently thought, Storage Ring. A semi-transparent screen appeared before his eyes.

Seeing the customer freeze, Luo Yao leaned closer and whispered, “Try putting the paper bag into it.”

Song Wen extended his hand, concentrating slightly. The paper bag in his palm vanished, now appearing in the first slot on the screen, marked with a small “1” in the bottom-left corner of the grid.

He stared in stunned silence for a moment before looking back at Luo Yao.

When he had ordered a storage bag from the DIY Workshop, it had been on a whim, not expecting much. Yet this ring’s functionality and user experience were almost indistinguishable from the Ghost Street system’s own storage feature.

Who was this shop owner?

Luo Yao patiently waited for him to finish testing the product, then casually shook her wrist, revealing a silver bracelet. “This storage ring was designed before the Ghost Bracelet. Its storage function overlaps a bit with the bracelet’s, so I added a unique feature to the ring to make it more practical for you.”

Song Wen glanced at the silver bracelet on Luo Yao’s wrist, unsure what she meant.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ch 148: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

Fang Cong was usually more reserved and rarely showed such outward emotions.

Chen Huisheng was a little surprised and answered honestly, “At the intersection over there, a grandma and her grandson were selling a few snacks in small quantities. By the time I bought some, they were packing up. Do you think there’s something wrong with the food?”

Fang Cong devoured the steamed bun in a few bites and picked up a meat-filled pastry, taking a bite while shaking his head repeatedly. “You bought it without tasting it first?”

Chen Huisheng shook his head. “They all taste more or less the same. What difference does it make?”

Caught off guard, Fang Cong was astonished by the near-perfect taste and texture of the food, so close to real ingredients. His mind blanked for a moment before he composed himself and gestured with his chin. “Try it yourself.”

Chen Huisheng picked up a steamed bun and took a bite. The soft dough and juicy filling burst with flavor, far surpassing the street snacks sold in the northern district.

His eyes widened, and he slightly tilted his chin toward Fang Cong, finishing the meat bun in two big bites. Regretfully, he said, “If I’d known, I would’ve bought more. This is hardly enough.”

Fang Cong nibbled on the sweet potato pastry in his hands, the mild sweetness spreading across his tongue, soothing his inexplicably unsettled mood. His gaze drifted toward the empty street. “What do you think?”

Chen Huisheng opened a container, scooping up a wonton with a small spoon. The translucent wrapper encased a tender pink filling, accented by flecks of green scallion. He took a bite; the texture was soft yet slightly chewy.

The seasoning was mild, but the soup had a hint of pepper that made him sweat after just a few bites.

Wiping the sweat off his nose, Chen Huisheng finally spoke. “This kind of food definitely isn’t something a shop in the southern district could pull off. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s tied to one place.”

Fang Cong frowned slightly. “You mean that new shop on our street?”

Chen Huisheng nodded. “Shop 13 on the northern street. We’re free today. Want to check it out?”

Shop 13 on Northern Street, Luo Yao’s Creative DIY Workshop.

It was a shop that looked unremarkable at first glance but had recently become a hot topic among locals.

It started with an unexpected fireworks display early one morning, heard across every corner of Ghost Street. That morning, a giant sperm whale “biting” into a colossal giant squid left an unforgettable impression on the residents.

After the fireworks festival, the cleverly designed jellyfish parachute ads caught everyone’s attention.

Drawn by the advertisements, many customers visited the DIY Workshop to see what the fuss was about.

The steamed bun Chen Huisheng just ate immediately reminded him of the snacks he had tasted at the DIY Workshop—equally authentic and delicious.

Fang Cong finished the sweet potato pastry and picked up the small wonton container from the ground. He opened the lid and ate silently.

The small bowl held twelve wontons, and Fang Cong felt like he finished them in just a few bites.

He raised the bowl, drank the remaining soup, wiped his mouth, and stood up. “Let’s go. We’ll check out that shop.”

…

The shop was even busier in the afternoon than it had been in the morning. Customers registered, collected their numbers, and sat in the lobby, unwilling to leave.

After discussing with three volunteers, Luo Yao decided to open Classroom 3 for operations.

The registration desk was handed over to Huang Qi, while Pei Qi assisted Liu Jing and Xiao Cai in supervising two classrooms. Luo Yao continued leading Gan Qing and Chen You in guiding customers in Classroom 1.

With all three classrooms running simultaneously, they barely managed to accommodate all the customers.

Inside the classrooms, customers followed video tutorials to prepare their food, with the clatter of pots and pans filling the air.

Standing at the demonstration station, Luo Yao observed the busy customers, occasionally glancing at Gan Qing and Chen You, who stood in opposite corners of the classroom.

The three staff members assigned from the committee building were becoming increasingly redundant thanks to the capable volunteers. However, due to their hidden dangers, they occasionally distracted Luo Yao, adding to her workload.

Gan Qing and Chen You were competent enough, but keeping them around as bodyguards felt like a waste of their abilities.

Luo Yao considered the arrangement for Chen You and Gan Qing, mulling over the idea of adding two more operation classrooms across the hallway.

After observing for two days, she noted that most of the customers were adults, with the youngest being around fifteen. Their ability to self-manage meant constant supervision wasn’t necessary.

Most customers used the smart displays at the workstations to follow tutorials, fully immersing themselves in the DIY experience.

Luo Yao envisioned creating two additional flexible classrooms with uniform workstations, where customers with different interests could freely DIY. Fees would be based on material consumption and time spent.

Ideas flowed through her mind as she grabbed a pen and notebook, sketching out blueprints for the new classrooms.

In the current operation classroom, steamed buns were in the steamer, meat pies sizzled on the griddle, and wontons boiled in rolling water, filling the air with a medley of appetizing aromas.

From her corner, Chen You suddenly turned her head, eyes fixed on a workstation in the first row where a customer was making buns. Her fingers twitched slightly, curling unconsciously.

Luo Yao glanced up and noticed Chen You’s unusual expression. She got up and walked over, patting her on the shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Chen You snapped out of her daze, looking blankly at Luo Yao before shaking her head nervously. “Nothing.”

Luo Yao studied her for a moment and, seeing no signs of anything serious, concluded she had just been distracted.

Meanwhile, Gan Qing stood near the rear door of the classroom, his gaze steady yet occasionally lost in thought as he stared into space.

After observing him briefly, Luo Yao returned to her drawings.

At 5:30 PM, the bell signaling the end of the activity rang.

In Classroom 1, two customers were still making buns. Some customers had left earlier after completing their projects, while others stayed behind, either eager to try everything and attempting multiple tutorials, or piling on materials for a single snack, cooking large quantities to take home.

Luo Yao waited until the last two customers packed up their takeout boxes and left before standing up. She left the cleaning to Gan Qing and Chen You.

According to the schedule, there was still an evening activity at 6:30 PM, running until 10:30 PM.

The workshop operated three activity sessions per day: 7:30 AM to 11:30 AM, 1:30 PM to 5:30 PM, and 6:30 PM to 10:30 PM. This perfectly aligned with Ghost Street’s business hours.

However, Luo Yao calculated that the shop was open from 7:00 AM to 10:30 PM—a grueling 15.5-hour workday. Such a long operating schedule required reorganizing staff shifts into at least two rotations.

She also planned to upgrade the two new classrooms and considered canceling the evening activity for the time being.

As customers left, the staff stayed behind to clean up and prepare materials for the next day’s activities.

Usually, staff meals were eaten in the shop, but since the day’s activities were food-related, most of the instructors had snacked throughout the sessions and weren’t hungry by dinner time. Only Huang Qi, seated at the front desk, was enthusiastically devouring a staff meal.

With the large morning crowd, staff and volunteers barely had time to interact before diving into their tasks. Aside from Huang Qi and Pei Qi working together for a few hours in the morning, Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing kept their distance from the full-time staff.

While Gan Qing and Chen You cleaned the operation classrooms, Liu Jing and Xiao Cai moved materials from the storage room to the lobby. They sat around a round table, repackaging the supplies.

Luo Yao sat at another table with pen and paper, deliberating over the custom storage bag program requested by a customer.

Since receiving a notification from the Dream Fulfillment System the previous day, Luo Yao had stored all networked electronics like her phone and tablet in her personal warehouse. She rarely used them in the DIY Workshop.

The smart displays in the operation classrooms weren’t connected to the street’s network either. Instead, video tutorials were preloaded via data cards.

To implement a control system on Ghost Street customers independent of the street’s network, an entirely separate system was necessary.

Luo Yao was brainstorming a device to host the new system she envisioned. Starting with the functions of the storage bags, the device would ideally cover all basic needs for activities on Ghost Street.

Meanwhile, Fang Cong and Chen Huisheng got off a vehicle at the northern district intersection. After navigating through the dense crowd for twenty minutes, they finally reached the entrance of the DIY Workshop, only to find a sign reading “Closed.”

Chen Huisheng sighed in disappointment, his face falling. “Why are they closed so early?”

Fang Cong peeked inside and, mildly surprised, stepped through the door.

Inside, most people were either resting or busy with tasks, except for Pei Qi, who seemed idle. Noticing them, Pei Qi immediately said, “Sorry, we’re closed for the day.”

Fang Cong nodded slightly and pointed toward Liu Jing. “We’re acquaintances.”

Chen Huisheng followed behind, surprised to see Liu Jing as well. “What are you doing here?”

Hearing the familiar voice, Liu Jing looked up at her two former colleagues and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. “I’m volunteering here.”

“Volunteering?” Chen Huisheng didn’t understand.

Liu Jing briefly explained the concept of “volunteering.”

Chen Huisheng’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”

Liu Jing calmly nodded. “Why are you here today?”

As he processed the news, Chen Huisheng replied slowly, “Nothing major. Fang Cong and I came across some street snacks in the southern district that tasted just like the ones from this workshop. We were passing by and thought we’d check it out.”

Luo Yao looked up. “What were they selling?”

“Steamed buns, meat pies, and wontons,” Chen Huisheng answered.

“That’s probably one of our customers,” Luo Yao said. “They likely made too much during an activity and couldn’t finish it, so they sold the extras.”

Remembering the flavors from lunch, Chen Huisheng felt his mouth water again. “Do you have any left for tonight?”

Luo Yao shook her head. “Some customers took a lot to go in the afternoon. Maybe someone’s selling them on the street.”

Fang Cong, having said only one sentence upon entering, had been quietly observing the shop’s layout. Losing interest, he seemed ready to head back to the street management office.

Noticing this, Chen Huisheng leaned in close to Luo Yao and whispered, “I heard the food here can prevent mutation. Is that true?”

Luo Yao looked up in surprise. “Who told you that?”

“Isn’t it true?” Chen Huisheng pressed.

Luo Yao shook her head firmly. “How could food prevent mutation? Did someone fool you?”

Reluctantly, Chen Huisheng scratched his head and recounted what he had seen in the southern district. Luo Yao was speechless.

The people on this street were quick thinkers—already spreading false advertising.

Food from the DIY Workshop tasted better than what was sold elsewhere simply because it was made with real, tangible ingredients.

However, Ghost Street was different from an ordinary snack street. Real food in this world only provided an authentic culinary experience, with no additional effects, let alone the ability to prevent one from getting lost.

Chen Huisheng wasn’t convinced. He recalled the brief moment of clarity and energy he felt after eating the steamed bun earlier that day, despite being utterly exhausted before.

“It’s just the food replenishing your energy and restoring your mental state,” Luo Yao explained.

Chen Huisheng seemed unwilling to accept this.

Only now did Fang Cong learn about the lunch-related claims. His expression turned slightly cold. These people were still so naïve, always clinging to the hope that there was a way to escape “him” or leave Ghost Street.

Liu Jing, reflecting on past events in the shop, raised a question. “If the food doesn’t prevent mutation, then how do you explain what happened to Jiang Lin, Du Xiao, and me?”

Startled, Chen Huisheng turned to Liu Jing. “Du Xiao came to the shop too?”

“She was brought here by people from the church yesterday,” Liu Jing confirmed.

“How’s she doing now?” Chen Huisheng asked.

“She regained consciousness this afternoon and returned to the church,” Liu Jing said with a nod.

Chen Huisheng turned his sharp gaze toward Luo Yao. Even Fang Cong, usually calm, seemed surprised, glancing sideways at Luo Yao.

At that moment, a familiar engine roared in the distance, growing louder as it approached before suddenly cutting off right outside the door.

A short while later, Ren You, dressed in a security officer’s uniform, entered with two unfamiliar young security guards in tow. Without acknowledging anyone else, Ren You headed straight toward Luo Yao.

Luo Yao asked, “Brother Xu isn’t with you today?”

Ren You’s face was grim. “Brother Xu hasn’t woken up yet—he’s still in the medical room.”

Yesterday, Xu Zhengrong had been dragged into the Quiet Chamber. Although he wasn’t used as a vessel for divine descent, his mind seemed to have suffered severe trauma. He had remained unconscious in the medical room for over a day and a night.

With a sigh, Ren You, visibly weary, said, “Brother Xu might have to step down. From now on, I’ll be in charge of the northern district patrols. I’d like to order a few knives like the one Brother Xu used yesterday.”

“Knives?” Luo Yao asked.

Ren You pulled a small silver knife from his storage bag, its blade half-corroded and covered in mottled rust. “I didn’t see it myself, but the senior security staff said Brother Xu used this knife yesterday to sever a mutated entity’s limb, buying us a few seconds. Even though it became like this after just one use, it’s still better than being unarmed and helpless.”

The knife’s handle bore a circular engraving, with the character “Yao” etched inside it.

This knife was one of Luo Yao’s earlier practice creations, crafted from leftover materials from the Alexander Continent. It had no special properties and was something she made casually and left at the front desk.

When Xu Zhengrong saw it, he was enamored, and Luo Yao had given it to him as a gift.

Taking the damaged knife from Ren You, Luo Yao poured out a dozen of her old practice weapons from her personal warehouse. “These are all things I made for practice. If you don’t mind their quality, pick a few to take with you.”

Ren You, surprised at the ease of this transaction, didn’t bother picking. He grabbed the entire batch and began loading them into his storage bag. “I’ll take all of them. How much?”

Luo Yao shook her head. “Forget it.”

These were crude practice pieces with no significant design or strength. Luo Yao didn’t feel right charging for them.

One of the young security guards behind Ren You couldn’t help but ask, “Brother Ren, are these knives even usable?”

Tools like kitchen knives, chainsaws, and electric drills sold at Ghost Street’s hardware stores were ineffective against “him” and his followers.

Ren You couldn’t be certain. Shop 13 in the northern district was a mystery in itself. However, with the Quiet Chamber destroyed, the church in disarray, and the security forces stretched thin, they had to find ways to protect themselves.

Luo Yao seemed to ponder this and pulled a card from her pocket, handing it to Ren You. It was a flyer introducing the shop’s hidden customization services. “Take this batch back and use them for now. If you need more next time, they’ll have to be custom-made—and won’t be free.”

Reluctant to take them for free, Ren You insisted on paying 30 ghost coins per knife and left with the lot.

No sooner had Ren You’s group exited than Chen Huisheng sidled up to Luo Yao. “Boss, do you have more knives? I want to buy one too.”

Even Fang Cong quietly approached and said in a cold tone, “I’ll take one as well.”

Chen Huisheng and Fang Cong each purchased a knife, and the three volunteers couldn’t resist following suit, each buying one for themselves.

After getting their knives, Chen Huisheng and Fang Cong left without addressing the reason they came in the first place.

Meanwhile, the materials moved to the lobby were sorted, portioned, and sent to the operation classrooms, ready for use the next day.

Earlier in the day, Liu Jing and Xiao Cai had avoided even making eye contact with Gan Qing and Chen You.

Now, armed with weapons, they seemed to have gained a sudden surge of confidence, pushing their cart of materials down the hallway without even asking the shop owner for help.

A minute later, Liu Jing and Xiao Cai came running back, their expressions strange.

Luo Yao asked, “What’s wrong?”

Xiao Cai pointed toward the hallway. “They’ve gone completely wild in there.”

Liu Jing nodded with a look of exasperation. “Absolutely crazy.”

Putting down her pen, Luo Yao stood up and headed toward the operation classroom.

Laughter echoed from Classroom 1, accompanied by the unpleasant smell of something burnt wafting down the hallway.

Luo Yao pushed open the door.

There stood Chen You at a workstation near the door, wielding a rolling pin as she pounded dough on the counter. Her face and hair were dusted white with flour, yet she laughed wildly, completely unrestrained.

Across from her, Gan Qing sat guarding a steamer that was charred black, holding a partially burnt bun in his hand, struggling to take a bite.

Luo Yao turned off the electricity in Classroom 1 before stepping in to stop Gan Qing and Chen You.

Meanwhile, Liu Jing and Xiao Cai peered through the doorway, too scared to go inside.

Leading the pair out of the classroom, Luo Yao sighed and explained, “They seem to have developed a sense of autonomy, likely influenced by the customers.”

Liu Jing and Xiao Cai blinked, clearly not understanding.

Luo Yao continued, “You’ve always thought it was the food here that helped restore lost customers’ consciousness, but that’s just the surface. The DIY activities are, in essence, an extremely subtle imitation of human behavior. By engaging in these small acts of creation, people can experience a sense of accomplishment, which in turn stimulates their consciousness, allowing them to perceive their surroundings with fresh perspectives and ideas.”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ch 147: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

The first time Lu Yao ate the candy given to her by Cai Yuxing, she became suspicious.

She had previously worked with 1041 of Nightlight City and Harold to redevelop Z-series technology, later known as holographic technology. She was very familiar with projection defects caused by data loss due to inaccurate sampling.

Most of the snack shops on Ghost Street looked delicious, and their enticing aroma could be smelled from far away, but the food itself tasted bland and flavorless.

Visuals are the most direct way to transmit information to the brain, and smells are relatively easy to capture as molecules. Combining visuals with aromas to create the illusion of a perfect sensory experience isn’t difficult.

However, replicating food’s taste and authentic texture with holographic technology is significantly more challenging.

The initial version of the holographic screening room at the Interdimensional Cinema had to rely on special props to enhance the experience, including tools to reinforce the perception of food’s flavor, texture, and temperature changes.

The poor-tasting food on Ghost Street immediately struck Lu Yao as a projection defect caused by insufficient data collection.

Later, a customer mentioned data, further deepening Lu Yao’s suspicions.

The special space left behind by the Dream Fulfillment System resembled fragmented data materializing into reality, which gradually confirmed Lu Yao’s hypothesis.

After all, she had recently launched the first holographic cultivation-themed online game on the Interdimensional Internet Café platform. She was no stranger to holographic technology’s ability to present game scenes and experiences.

If the guests on Ghost Street were viewed as players, and the shops and shopkeepers were NPCs providing survival tools, the entire situation became much easier to understand.

However, there was another peculiar presence on this street: a being claiming to be a god, delighting in guiding human minds into spiritual degradation.

The true rule of Ghost Street was simple: both guests and shopkeepers were merely its toys.

According to Lu Yao’s understanding, this being was undoubtedly the game’s final boss.

If Ghost Street were indeed a holographic game, its greatest flaw as a game was the imbalance of power. Players had no mechanisms or weapons to counter the final boss.

Yet, since there were no restrictions on gameplay mechanics on this street, the path forward became clear.

She needed to find a way to rebuild the game’s mechanics, explore new playability, and provide casual players with powerful counterattack tools.

For now, Lu Yao wasn’t concerned about why Ghost Street existed or whether there were larger forces at play behind it.

According to the information left by the Dream Fulfillment System, it likely was no longer present on Ghost Street.

It warned Lu Yao not to use phones or the internet in the game, implying that this being could access information through communicators and networks. The internet was likely its channel for monitoring and spying on human actions.

The system also mentioned an exit. Perhaps only by finding this exit could one reach its true location.

Clearing the game might lead to the legendary exit. Even without a clear path to victory, continuing to develop her shop remained an essential means of gathering intelligence.

Pei Qi’s arrival in Lu Yao’s plans was unexpected. He seemed to know a bit of insider information, but his current favorability wasn’t high enough to make him divulge any secrets.

Earlier, during training, Lu Yao had deliberately observed the three volunteers. Pei Qi’s hands-on and social skills were somewhat lacking, but he had some utility, so she decided to keep him close and increase his favorability.

On her way back from the church, Lu Yao began organizing her thoughts. When she returned to the shop, she met Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing, successfully recruiting them. The operational strategy for the DIY workshop behind the shop would also require minor adjustments.

However, all of this had to be done step by step without rushing.

…

Pei Qi was at a loss for words.

He had been observing the young shopkeeper along the way, thinking it wouldn’t be difficult to take control of the conversation. Yet, not only had she already guessed the truth about Ghost Street, but she also didn’t seem the least bit shocked.

For a moment, he was at a loss, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

Lu Yao waited for a while, noticed that Pei Qi didn’t want to say anything more, and directly said, “If there’s nothing else, let’s leave it here for today.”

She was preoccupied with revising the shop’s business strategy and had little patience for playing guessing games with the new employee.

Pei Qi felt an inexplicable sense of defeat.

He had clearly thrown out the bait, yet she showed no curiosity at all.

Lu Yao had no intention of letting Pei Qi stay overnight at the shop. Before Ghost Street’s closing time, she sent him on his way.

There were inns on the street, so Pei Qi wouldn’t have to sleep outdoors.

Treating him no differently from others, Lu Yao gave him a Regulation Rod pendant.

Inspired by the semi-credential bestowed on her by the so-called god, Lu Yao had previously tried giving a fragment of the Regulation Rod to Ji Zhixin during the last battle against the evil god to act on her behalf. She could now use this skill with ease.

However, the Regulation Rod she gave to the new employee only functioned as a protective charm. In this ambiguous world that blurred the lines between reality and virtuality, it served as a real anchor—like a lighthouse—guiding them so they wouldn’t lose their way.

Pei Qi left in a daze.

…

Lu Yao closed the shop door, returned to the Mustard Seed Realm, and focused on revising the shop’s upcoming activity plans.

After finalizing the new strategy, she emerged from the realm, upgraded the equipment in the operations classroom, and only returned to the hot spring inn late at night to rest.

The next day at 7 a.m., Lu Yao arrived punctually at the DIY workshop, opened the shop door, and prepared for business.

To her surprise, a crowd of people was already gathered outside, startling her.

Mornings on Ghost Street were usually quiet. Even in the northern district, it was rare to see such a crowd so early.

As soon as the people at the door saw the DIY workshop finally open, they exclaimed excitedly.

“It’s open! This is the place!”

“Finally! I left home at six and waited for an hour.”

“Sign me up, boss! I want to register!”

Lu Yao was confused. The customers had come much earlier than expected, but she still stepped aside to let them in.

Outside the crowd, three shop employees and volunteers had also arrived and followed the customers inside.

Seeing Lu Yao looking a bit out of the loop, Liu Jing pulled her aside. “Yesterday, someone was selling desserts made here at the DIY workshop around the street. Cream cupcakes, Swiss rolls, fondant cakes, strawberry boxes… Those desserts tasted amazing and caught the attention of people in various districts. These customers were attracted by the desserts they bought.”

Lu Yao’s eyes widened slightly as she slowly processed Liu Jing’s words.

The DIY workshop had unexpectedly become a middleman. This was a development she had never anticipated.

Last night, Lu Yao had been contemplating ways to improve Ghost Street’s “game environment” without deviating from the shop’s business direction. This situation presented her with a brand-new idea.

…

After the shop officially opened, two more waves of customers arrived. Among them, she noticed Grandma Xu and Song Wen, who had made cupcakes the day before, the young man who decorated Swiss rolls with buttercream art, and the older man who specialized in fondant cakes.

These people greeted Lu Yao with cheerful smiles, rolling up their sleeves, seemingly more interested in stocking up than in crafting baked goods.

Lu Yao found it amusing and had Huang Qi and Pei Qi arrange for customer registrations. With the new employees, they could open two classrooms simultaneously and accommodate more customers.

For their first day on the job, Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing worked together, while Lu Yao had Gan Qing and Chen You stay by her side.

To prevent sudden incidents like the one from the previous day, Lu Yao released two shadow butterflies—one to monitor the front desk and Huang Qi, and another to patrol the hallway.

She also set up the flying live-streaming devices she had used during her snack shop days, placing them at the operation classrooms and restroom entrances, ensuring she could maintain full oversight of the shop’s activities.

The second day’s DIY activity also revolved around food, with the theme being Chinese breakfast.

Food had always been a timelessly popular topic in Lu Yao’s shopping street.

With so many food enthusiasts among both customers and staff, the head chefs had no choice but to rack their brains to innovate dishes and improve flavors.

When deciding on “Chinese breakfast” as the theme, Lu Yao consulted with the chefs of the snack shop, the pet cafe, and the hot spring inn. They finally selected steamed buns, stuffed pancakes, and small wontons as the examples for the Chinese breakfast DIY experience.

Soft, warm steamed buns, fragrant, golden-brown stuffed pancakes, and a bowl of light, flavorful small wontons—just imagining it was enough to make one drool.

Last night, Lu Yao worked overtime to install smart display screens at the customers’ workstations. These screens weren’t connected to the internet but contained preloaded instructional videos on data cards.

The DIY workshop’s instructional videos were produced by the shopping street staff. For food-related videos, the head chefs appeared on screen, while technical DIY activities in the future would feature non-human staff and Lu Yao herself. But that was a matter for another time.

Today’s activity was the most straightforward food-making experience. Customers watched the instructional videos, selected the dish they were interested in, registered with the instructor, and collected their ingredients.

Compared to the first day, the workload for the instructors decreased, while the customers enjoyed greater flexibility. The operations classroom was bustling with activity.

In less than an hour, the enticing aroma of freshly made food began to fill the room.

Steamed buns puffed up in bamboo steamers, releasing an alluring fragrance. Beef-filled pancakes, leek and egg pancakes, and purple sweet potato pancakes sizzled to a golden brown on both sides and were neatly placed on racks above frying pans to drain excess oil. In boiling water, small wontons, resembling goldfish with tails, swirled about, their edges gradually turning translucent. The distinctive aroma of freshly made noodles wafted through the air.

The lively chatter and excitement in the classroom transformed into a warm, smoky atmosphere, the scent curling out through the windows.

Even Gan Qing and Chen You, stationed at opposite ends of the classroom, were drawn in by the smells and couldn’t help swallowing hungrily.

Among the customers were some returning ones. One, after successfully making steamed buns for the first time, shared their creation with a neighboring customer, receiving unanimous praise. Excited by the response, they immediately approached Lu Yao to buy more ingredients, seemingly planning to start a steamed bun business.

Lu Yao pretended not to notice their hidden intentions and sold them the materials as usual.

The amount of ingredients was fixed, and there was a time limit for the experience. Even if customers wanted to stock up, a single session only allowed for a maximum use of five portions.

Song Wen approached Lu Yao again, asking to buy packaging boxes. “Boss, I need thirty boxes for small wontons, please.”

A first-time customer nearby, puzzled, asked, “You’re packing wontons to take away? Won’t they just turn into mush?”

Song Wen shook his head. “The boxes from the DIY workshop are a bit like storage bags. They can keep the food warm and fresh, so they won’t turn mushy.”

The customer was surprised. “Then why not just use a storage bag?”

“They don’t hold much,” Song Wen said with a wink. “Besides, it feels safer to carry DIY workshop items in hand.”

Storage bags were similar to inventory slots in typical online games.

Everyone on Ghost Street had their own storage bag, but their capacity was limited, and they couldn’t hold too many items.

Additionally, items stored in the Ghost Street-issued bags occasionally went missing. Experienced customers preferred to keep important belongings close rather than relying on the storage bags.

Lu Yao also had a personal storage bag that could only be opened on Ghost Street. However, since she had her own portable warehouse and Qiankun Bag, she had never used the Ghost Street-issued one.

Because everyone had a storage bag, when Liu Jing and the others first saw Lu Yao seemingly summon items out of thin air, they weren’t particularly surprised.

Hearing the conversation, Lu Yao handed thirty packaging boxes to Song Wen, recorded the transaction in her notebook, and casually handed him a card introducing hidden services. “If you’re interested, my shop can customize large-capacity storage bags.”

Song Wen glanced at the card, a glint flashing in his eyes. He then looked steadily at Lu Yao for a moment before silently taking the boxes and returning to his workstation.

After packing thirty boxes of wontons, Song Wen approached Lu Yao again and quietly asked, “Are the shop’s large-capacity storage bags confirmed to work on Ghost Street?”

Recalling the setup procedures for the inventory slots in the internet café’s holographic games, Lu Yao nodded. “Not difficult.”

Song Wen asked, “What’s the price? And when can I get one?”

Lu Yao said, “A six-slot storage bag. Each slot can hold up to 30 identical items. Customization fee: 880 Ghost Coins. Delivery in three days.”

Song Wen’s eyes lit up but quickly suppressed his excitement. “I’ll order one for now.”

During the DIY workshop’s trial period, Song Wen and his grandmother had visited the shop to try making fireworks. Now, with the shop officially open for two days, they had visited both days in a row, making them among the first to notice the shop’s unique qualities.

However, the idea of a storage bag independent of Ghost Street’s system still seemed unbelievable to Song Wen. For now, he placed the order with a mindset of giving it a try.

After placing the hidden-service order, he kept quiet, returned to the workstation, and grabbed a few bowls of wontons to exchange with nearby customers for buns and stuffed pancakes.

The customers gathered around the table, eating the breakfasts they had made with their own hands, chatting occasionally. The cozy classroom buzzed with more life than the street outside.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the session. Satisfied with their meals, the customers got up, carrying stacks of food boxes as they left the classroom.

The DIY workshop prioritized the experience itself, so Lu Yao didn’t schedule the sessions too tightly. There was one class each in the morning, afternoon, and evening, which felt just right.

The afternoon session began at 1:30 p.m. Customers registered at the front desk but were free to roam until the class began, avoiding the frustration of waiting around too long.

Lu Yao had Gan Qing and Chen You clean the classroom while she took Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing to the storeroom to prepare materials for the next session.

The consumption of materials was slightly higher than Lu Yao had expected. However, with the shop newly opened, having business was a good sign. The storeroom still had plenty of stock, so there was no immediate need to worry.

…

Ghost Street, South District.

Song Wen and his grandmother, carrying two stacks of wontons, buns, and stuffed pancakes, got off a cart. The wontons were made by his grandmother, while the buns and pancakes had been exchanged in the classroom.

One bowl of wontons could be traded for three buns or three pancakes.

Song Wen had traded for 18 buns and 18 pancakes. After keeping enough for himself and his grandmother, he planned to sell the rest.

The two walked to the corner where cupcakes had been sold the day before. Setting up their goods, they began to shout:

“Freshly steamed fluffy meat buns, sweet red bean buns, crispy, generously filled pancakes, piping hot fresh meat wontons, and special anti-mutation food! Just 99 Ghost Coins each! Limited quantity—once sold out, we’re gone!”

Anti-mutation?

What kind of absurd joke was this?

Passersby only felt that the atmosphere on this street was becoming increasingly sinister. Scammers were even coming up with tricks like this.

Song Wen paid no mind to the onlookers’ skepticism. He broke a red bean bun in half, handed one piece to his grandmother, and the two sat on the roadside, nibbling on their buns and chatting casually.

In reality, they had already eaten their fill at the DIY workshop. This was merely a strategy to attract buyers.

The food from the DIY workshop didn’t have the exaggerated, overpowering aromas of Ghost Street’s snacks, nor did it boast any magical allure. It looked ordinary at best. Yet, before Song Wen and his grandmother had been sitting for long, everything they’d brought to sell was gone.

Just as they were packing up, Fang Cong came out of the South District Management Office building. Noticing Chen Huisheng holding two bags, he frowned slightly and asked, “What’s this?”

Chen Huisheng chuckled awkwardly. “I just saw this grandmother and grandson duo selling wontons, buns, and pancakes by the roadside. They smelled great, so I bought two portions.”

He didn’t dare mention the “anti-mutation” slogan from their advertising.

After Liu Jing left the North District Management Office, Chen Huisheng began partnering with Fang Cong for fieldwork.

Earlier, while waiting by the roadside for Fang Cong to come down, he had been feeling a bit dazed. Hearing the loud calls from the street corner suddenly jolted him awake.

Startled and uneasy, when he heard the words “anti-mutation,” he immediately went over and bought two portions.

He didn’t really believe the food could prevent mutation, but since it was mealtime, he figured he might as well get something to eat.

Fang Cong seemed in a bad mood and didn’t say much. Taking the paper bag, he found a shady spot to sit down. “Let’s eat before heading back.”

Chen Huisheng sat down as well and casually asked, “Did the discussion not go well?”

“Yeah…” Fang Cong, finding the wontons too hot to handle, placed them by his feet and picked up a bun. He took a bite, his tone suddenly stretching as his gaze fixed on one spot, his eyes barely moving.

Chen Huisheng turned his head to look, startled. “Fang Cong?”

Fang Cong bit into the bun fiercely, then grabbed a pancake and stuffed it into his mouth. After a few chews, he turned abruptly, grabbed Chen Huisheng by the arm, and demanded, “Where did you say you bought this food?”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ch 146: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

The mutated entity was swiftly dealt with by the Dream Fulfilling System, which vanished immediately after.

After months of absence, the once-cowardly system seemed to have developed a sharper mind and more decisive methods.

For the first time, it dawned on Lu Yao that the system could grow.

The door to the “Quiet Room” was destroyed, and the strange noises inside had ceased. A few minutes later, security personnel tentatively approached the entrance.

Lu Yao stepped out and informed Qin Qiuming, “This room is no longer useful.”

Qin Qiuming’s shoulders slumped in visible disappointment.

After years of despair, the faint hope they’d clung to had ultimately been shattered.

Lu Yao’s mind was in turmoil. With her business concluded, the question of whether Jiang Lin would agree to work at the DIY shop no longer seemed urgent. She nodded briefly to Qin Qiuming. “I’ll head back for now.”

The security guards, now aware that the divine manifestation had ended, hurried into the room to rescue the trapped individuals.

Xu Zhengrong, Ren You, and Du Xiao were sprawled on the floor, coughing and retching after their near-asphyxiation in the creature’s grasp.

Amid the chaos, a tall, lanky man scrambled to his feet and urgently made his way toward the door. Catching sight of Lu Yao in the hallway, he called out, “Are you Lu Yao?”

Lu Yao turned to face him. The man’s white coat was soaked in slime, and the shirt and trousers beneath were similarly filthy. Though disheveled, he exuded an undeniable poise.

It seemed he had also been in the Quiet Room, yet he didn’t wear the security uniform nor did he appear to be a mutated entity.

The tall man approached. “My name is Pei Qi, the gatekeeper of the Quiet Room. Now that the room is gone, I want to leave with you.”

So this was the gatekeeper.

Pei Qi’s demeanor was so mild-mannered that Lu Yao initially mistook him for a researcher. Still, his request was peculiar—asking to join her out of the blue and somehow already knowing her name.

Lu Yao gave Pei Qi a once-over. “Reason?”

Pei Qi adjusted his glasses, his eyes glinting with restrained determination. “I was here to oversee the Quiet Room, but now that it’s gone, I no longer have an obligation to remain. If you’re in need of someone, I’d like to go with you.”

Qin Qiuming looked utterly astonished.

Lu Yao scrutinized Pei Qi for a moment. “Fine, let’s go.”

This guy wasn’t saying everything. He was dangling bait, waiting for her to bite.

Lu Yao didn’t care to overthink it. She’d bring him to the DIY shop and deal with whatever came next.

Pei Qi hadn’t expected her to agree so readily. Stunned for a second, he quickly followed after her.

Qin Qiuming snapped out of his shock and hurried to catch up, intending to stop them. But before he could, Jiang Lin returned with the patrol squad.

Lu Yao called out to Jiang Lin, “You’re staying in the security office. What about Cai Yuxing?”

Jiang Lin, drenched in sweat from patrol, was surprised to see Lu Yao there. After a pause, he replied, “She’s gone back to the North District.”

The security office rarely retained female employees. Without showing signs of mutation, Cai Yuxing was deemed unsuitable to stay at the church.

Lu Yao nodded. “Give me her address. I’ll check on her when I have time.”

Jiang Lin, with blurred memories of his mutation phase, instinctively touched the beaded bracelet on his wrist when he saw Lu Yao. He felt no apprehension toward her and obediently provided Cai Yuxing’s address in the North District.

Memorizing the location, Lu Yao left with Pei Qi.

Qin Qiuming finally caught up but didn’t address Lu Yao. Instead, he spoke to Pei Qi. “Are you really leaving?”

Pei Qi turned back to look at him. “The Quiet Room is no longer functional. There’s no point in my staying.”

Qin Qiuming had no words.

Pei Qi had appeared the same day as the Quiet Room. Translated on hololonovels. He knew more about the Ghost Street than any of the church’s staff. It was he who had first proposed sending mutated individuals to the room for observation.

The higher-ups at the church had been placing increasing importance on Pei Qi’s opinions regarding the treatment of mutated individuals, yet he abruptly announced his departure.

Additionally, the disappearance of the Quiet Room was a significant loss.

Pei Qi ignored Qin Qiuming, turning to catch up with Lu Yao. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed the young woman beside him. Her gaze was calm, her emotions steady, and she showed no inclination to start a conversation.

As they passed through the long central hall and exited through the grand front doors of the church, Pei Qi took the initiative to speak. “This way. It’s getting late. I’ll drive you back.”

Lu Yao didn’t refuse.

The patrol squad’s vehicles were rugged off-road motorcycles, but Pei Qi’s sleek silver-gray sedan was tucked away in a corner, easy to miss if one wasn’t paying attention.

Lu Yao climbed into the passenger seat. “Your car is different from theirs.”

Pei Qi replied simply, “I’m not a security guard.”

Starting the car, Pei Qi drove onto the road but sped off in the opposite direction from the one Lu Yao had taken earlier.

“…Are you going the wrong way?” Lu Yao asked, raising an eyebrow.

Pei Qi kept one hand on the wheel, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “You have a good sense of direction.”

Lu Yao didn’t respond.

“This route avoids the purification ray zone. It’s slower but safer,” Pei Qi explained.

“Isn’t the purification ray supposed to reduce the chances of losing oneself?” Lu Yao asked, the name suggesting some sort of cleansing effect.

Pei Qi pulled a half-empty pack of cigarettes from his damp pocket, opened it, and held one between his lips. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Yes, I mind. Wait until we’re outside,” Lu Yao replied flatly.

Pei Qi fell silent and put the cigarette pack away.

By 9:30 p.m., Lu Yao had returned to the bustling streets of the North District.

The streets were crowded, making it difficult for the car to navigate. Lu Yao got out at an intersection.

Pei Qi, seemingly well-acquainted with Ghost Street, told her not to worry about him and said he would find her after parking the car.

The DIY shop’s signboard continued to flash even when the shop was empty, as though it had seamlessly blended into the eerie yet lively atmosphere of the street.

On the steps outside the shop sat two familiar figures. Seeing them, Lu Yao quickened her pace.

At the entrance, Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing stood up, noticing her approach.

“Why are you here at this hour?” Lu Yao asked.

Liu Jing looked at her. “Nothing unusual happened at the shop today, right?”

Lu Yao replied calmly, “What are you referring to?”

Liu Jing glanced around, then nudged Lu Yao toward the shop. “Let’s talk inside.”

Lu Yao unlocked the door and let them in.

The shop was empty, which seemed to ease Liu Jing’s mind. She patted her chest in relief. “Where are the shop assistants?”

“They’re off work,” Lu Yao answered as she poured them each a glass of water.

Liu Jing couldn’t hide her surprise. “Nothing happened at the shop?”

“There was a minor incident at noon, but it’s already been handled,” Lu Yao said matter-of-factly.

Liu Jing paused, then gradually relaxed. “Nothing you say surprises me anymore.”

Lu Yao’s gaze shifted between the two. “How did you end up together?”

Cai Yuxing explained, “Sister Jing lives just one building away from me. We ran into each other downstairs this afternoon and decided to go out for a stroll. Jing Jie wanted to stop by the DIY shop, and we noticed the recruitment notice posted at your door.”

Lu Yao nodded in acknowledgment. Before leaving earlier, she had indeed put up a new recruitment poster outside. However, it wasn’t for shop assistants but rather for volunteers.

This was a solution she’d come up with—recruiting volunteers as a way to find suitable staff without needing to go through the Street Committee’s central office while also addressing the shop’s staffing shortage.

“So that’s it. Were you thinking of giving it a try?” Lu Yao asked.

Liu Jing immediately asked, “Can we?”

Cai Yuxing also looked at Lu Yao, her expression uncertain.

“Technically speaking, volunteers and official staff aren’t quite the same,” Lu Yao explained. “However, if you’re willing to help out at the shop, the compensation and benefits won’t differ much from those of regular employees.”

Volunteers don’t receive a salary, only stipends for expenses.

Typically, this amount is minimal.

Lu Yao’s intent was still to recruit regular employees, but she used the guise of “volunteers” to circumvent the rules of Ghost Street. In reality, the benefits and compensation offered to the volunteers would match those of formal employees.

Liu Jing was tempted. Since leaving the Street Management Office, she had no new work assignments. She felt uneasy, fearing that aimlessly wandering this strange street would lead her to lose herself again.

Cai Yuxing spoke up first. “I’d like to join. But I’ve never worked before.”

Lu Yao responded, “That’s not a problem. There will be training before you start.”

Liu Jing, snapping out of her thoughts, heard Cai Yuxing already agreeing and couldn’t hold back. “I want to join too.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” a voice called out from the doorway.

The three women turned to see who had spoken.

Pei Qi entered, glanced at Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing, then fixed his gaze on Lu Yao. “The rule on this street is that ordinary people cannot become employees. If this is broken, He will be angered.”

Lu Yao spread her hands. “They aren’t employees—they’re volunteers.”

Pei Qi pressed on. “I heard you already applied for staff through the Street Committee. Mixing ordinary people with formal employees is even less acceptable.”

Lu Yao stared at Pei Qi for a moment. “Have you considered the possibility that this is my shop?”

Pei Qi calmly shut the door and didn’t seem offended. “I’m not meddling. I genuinely know this street better than you or these ordinary people. He is still immature now. You might think you’re exploiting loopholes in the rules, but no one can bear the consequences of angering Him.”

Lu Yao gave Pei Qi a long, searching look before turning to Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing. “What do you two think?”

Cai Yuxing stepped forward and grabbed Lu Yao’s hand. “I want to work. No matter what happens, I won’t regret it.”

After a moment of silence, Liu Jing raised her hand. “I want to work too.”

Lu Yao turned back to Pei Qi. “And you?”

Pei Qi hesitated. “…I’ll work too.”

Lu Yao walked toward the adjacent operations classroom. “Time is tight. Tonight, we’ll conduct training so you can officially start tomorrow.”

In the first operations classroom, Lu Yao retrieved a Qiankun Bag from her portable storage, then pulled out a Mustard Seed from the bag. “Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures.”

Pei Qi, Liu Jing, and Cai Yuxing couldn’t comprehend what the shop owner was doing. They didn’t find it particularly strange when Lu Yao produced the Qiankun Bag out of thin air. However, when they followed her into the space within the Mustard Seed, their expressions began to change.

“This isn’t the classroom from earlier,” Cai Yuxing murmured.

Liu Jing reached out to touch one of the cubicles leftover from the game development team’s overtime work. Her eyes reddened. “These are real tables and chairs.”

Pei Qi, observing the peculiar space, blinked rapidly before grabbing Lu Yao’s arm. “Are we inside the seed you took out earlier? Who exactly are you?”

Lu Yao shook her head and didn’t answer. She walked over to a modified fridge, took out a few bottles of water, along with some fruit and cake, and then sat on the sofa in the lounge area. She beckoned to them. “This space is absolutely safe and private. Rest for a bit, and then we’ll start the training.”

Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing, having experienced events in the shop before, trusted Lu Yao implicitly and didn’t react as strongly as Pei Qi.

Pei Qi stood stiffly on the sidelines, remaining silent until the group had eaten and rested enough to begin training.

The training focused on tasks related to the next day’s activities. Lu Yao had a preliminary understanding of the two new female volunteers and trusted them more than the three official employees.

Through tonight’s training, Lu Yao hoped they could quickly adapt to guiding customers, maximizing the shop’s resources to attract as many patrons as possible.

Liu Jing had been working diligently, demonstrating slightly stronger capabilities than Cai Yuxing.

However, after repeated practice, both of them managed to familiarize themselves with the basic workflows of the DIY workshop within the expected timeframe.

In contrast, Pei Qi’s practical skills were utterly disastrous. To be precise, he was a terrifying menace in the kitchen.

Lu Yao quickly removed him from the list of instructors for the next day and reassigned him to work alongside Huang Qi at the front desk.

After concluding the training, Lu Yao led the three volunteer trainees out of the Mustard Space. Ghost Street had not yet reached its closing hours.

Liu Jing glanced at the watch on her wrist and remarked incredulously, “How is it still not even ten o’clock?”

Cai Yuxing leaned in, equally stunned. “That’s impossible. Is your watch broken?”

Liu Jing frowned. “It shouldn’t be; the hands are moving normally.”

Lu Yao casually tossed the seed in her palm and explained, “You’ve heard of the church’s Quiet Room, right? I have a similar kind of special space. The difference is that its abilities are not the same as the Quiet Room’s. What you’ve just seen is it.”

Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing stared wide-eyed, struggling to process the shop owner’s revelation.

Lu Yao didn’t elaborate further and instead asked about another pressing matter: “At this hour, can you both still get home safely?”

Liu Jing snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh, right. We should head back.”

As the two women were about to leave, Lu Yao called them back and handed each of them a pendant. “If walking at night makes you uneasy, just hold onto this.”

Cai Yuxing examined the pendant curiously. “Isn’t this a miniature version of your weapon?”

Lu Yao replied, “Technically, it’s part of the Regulation Rod. It’s not particularly useful—just treat it as a protective charm.”

Having seen the power of the Regulation Rod in Lu Yao’s hands, Liu Jing and Cai Yuxing clutched the miniaturized version tightly. Smiling obsequiously, they bade farewell to Lu Yao and left together.

Once only the two of them were left in the shop, Lu Yao glanced at Pei Qi. “Where are you staying tonight?”

Pei Qi gestured toward the seed in her hand. “Let’s talk in that space.”

Lu Yao, already aware that he had something to say, locked the shop door again. She led Pei Qi back to the operations classroom and entered the Mustard Space once more.

Compared to his initial entry, Pei Qi seemed much more at ease this time, wandering around the compact space and inspecting it. “This space is definitely beyond the technology of this era, yet the items inside seem quite old.”

Lu Yao remained silent.

After examining every detail to his satisfaction, Pei Qi finally sat down beside her. “You’re not from this world.”

Lu Yao lowered her eyes, neither confirming nor denying his statement.

Pei Qi suppressed the turmoil in his heart and spoke cautiously. “You probably don’t know the true nature of this street.”

Lu Yao raised her head, picked up the glass of water on the table, and gently swirled it. “You’re not very good at interacting with people, are you?”

Pei Qi blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

Lu Yao replied, “That kind of probing statement is awfully cliché.”

Pei Qi was at a loss for words.

Lu Yao set the glass down and leaned back against the sofa. “Isn’t the nature of Ghost Street just a defective holographic game community developed with flawed technology?”

…

Thingyan: Ahhhhh so it’s not real? Like it’s not a real world like other continents?

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ch 145: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

Xu Zhengrong and Ren You rode patrol motorcycles to the North District DIY Studio in the morning, each with a back seat for passengers.

On the way back, Xu Zhengrong carried the now-conscious Du Xiao, while Lu Yao rode on Ren You’s motorcycle.

The patrol motorcycles departed the DIY Studio, traveling along the street.

As evening approached, the streets grew livelier. Neon signs along both sides of the road flickered to life, their high-saturation, glaring beams blending with the golden hues of sunset, making the streets noisy and oppressive.

The North District was riddled with narrow alleys shared by pedestrians and vehicles. The patrol motorcycles weaved their way carefully, stopping frequently to avoid pedestrians, taking a long time to exit the crowded streets and enter the quiet, deserted circular path.

Ren You wiped sweat from his forehead with one hand and let out a long sigh of relief. “Only the North District is still this bustling.”

The section of the road they were on was flanked by red barricades. Apart from them, there were no other vehicles or pedestrians in sight.

With her keen hearing, Lu Yao caught Ren You’s remark through the engine’s roar and asked, “I’ve been to the East District once. It was desolate at night. Is the West District the same?”

Ren You’s back stiffened for a moment before quickly relaxing. He tilted his head slightly and replied, “Because of the committee building and the church, the East and West Districts haven’t been lively for a long time.”

To the visitors of Ghost Street, both the Street Committee and the church were seen as extensions of Him. People instinctively stayed away.

All living beings have an innate drive to seek benefit and avoid harm. Lu Yao had speculated that the East District’s desolation was linked to the Street Committee, and now it seemed confirmed.

Lu Yao continued, “Is the South District the same as the East and West?”

Ren You fell silent for a moment. After about ten seconds, he turned his head slightly and lowered his voice. “The South District used to be somewhat lively. About a month ago, something happened there that angered Him, leading to divine punishment. Many people died, and now it’s practically a ghost town.”

Lu Yao wanted to probe further, but Ren You shook his head. “Everyone involved in that incident is gone. No one knows the specifics. It’s best not to ask.”

Lu Yao lowered her gaze and chose not to press further.

The patrol motorcycles soon reached a slightly broader road. Red beams of light rippled like waves from above, sweeping over them repeatedly.

The light caused no pain, but Lu Yao felt an unsettling sensation, as though being watched.

Seeming to anticipate her curiosity, Ren You explained preemptively, “This road is a dedicated passage for Ghost Street staff, connecting the four districts and ensuring swift movement. See those bridges? That’s the Center City. The red purification beams emanate from there, covering this entire area. Daily exposure to these beams significantly reduces the risk of losing oneself.”

At regular intervals, the dedicated passage branched into narrow red bridges that twisted and turned toward what Ren You called the Center City.

Center City radiated a dazzling golden light, almost too blinding to look at.

Lu Yao squinted, trying to make out its details, but the brightness forced her to close her eyes. “Have you ever been to Center City?”

Ren You gave a wry smile and shook his head. “Center City is a restricted zone. You see all those entrances and bridges? No one has ever crossed them.”

An inaccessible restricted zone—it felt like a treasure chest hiding a monumental secret.

Lu Yao mentally marked Center City as a priority target.

As they exited the Center City’s perimeter, the motorcycles returned to the deserted circular path and reached the West District church in under a minute.

Lu Yao dismounted and looked up at the opulent church, its grandeur almost overwhelming.

The towering four-story structure, designed in a Western classical style, had soft ivory walls and a Capri blue dome with pointed spires. Translated on hololonovels. A massive, grotesque statue stood at the main entrance, flanked by two decorative hot springs. The sheer scale and luxury surpassed even the Eastern District’s committee building.

Xu Zhengrong led Lu Yao up the marble steps into the grand hall, through the long, quiet atrium, and up one floor before stopping at the Director’s office.

The office door was open. Qin Qiuming looked up, saw Xu Zhengrong and Lu Yao, and rose to greet them.

Lu Yao didn’t see Jiang Lin. After exchanging a few polite words with Qin Qiuming, she got straight to the point: “Where’s Jiang Lin?”

Qin Qiuming paused, leaning back into his chair. “Jiang Lin went on patrol with the team this afternoon. He hasn’t returned yet.”

Lu Yao tilted her head and glanced at Xu Zhengrong.

Xu Zhengrong lowered his gaze, avoiding Lu Yao’s eyes.

The church had finally encountered someone like Jiang Lin and was unwilling to let him go. However, they also didn’t want to offend the shopkeeper. After coordinating with Director Qin, Xu Zhengrong and Qin Qiuming had devised a delaying tactic: invite the shopkeeper to the church and have Director Qin convince her to give up on Jiang Lin.

Lu Yao had encountered far too many people in her time. With just a glance at their demeanor, she understood their intentions. She stood up and said, “If you never intended to let Jiang Lin go, you could’ve just told me directly. There was no need to waste my time.”

Qin Qiuming, caught off guard by her directness, awkwardly stood up. “It’s a misunderstanding, really. Let’s wait for Jiang Lin to return…”

Before Lu Yao could interrupt, a security officer appeared at the doorway, gasping for breath and looking distressed. “Director, something’s happened in the quiet room!”

Qin Qiuming’s expression darkened. He glanced at Lu Yao and Xu Zhengrong, then tried to steady himself. “What’s the situation?”

The security officer reported, “When Ren You came back earlier and said Du Xiao had regained consciousness, we prepared to take her to the quiet room for one more day of observation. But as soon as we opened the door, several tentacles reached out. Ren You, Du Xiao, and the guard on duty were all pulled inside!”

Qin Qiuming’s face turned ashen, and he nearly collapsed into his chair.

The quiet room had appeared unexpectedly in the church’s first-floor corridor two to three months ago, possessing a unique ability to either suppress or accelerate the progression of someone’s transformation.

They had hoped to use the room for their advantage, but now it seemed like it might have been a trap laid by Him all along.

Hearing that Ren You was involved, Xu Zhengrong’s face turned pale. Without waiting for orders, he rushed out.

As one of the longest-surviving members of the church’s staff, Xu Zhengrong had witnessed countless colleagues crumble into madness, optimistic coworkers succumb to transformation, and ordinary people swallowed whole by mutants in an instant. He had himself narrowly escaped death on multiple occasions.

From the first day he met Ren You, Xu Zhengrong had a nagging feeling: This guy won’t survive long.

Unlike ordinary people, security officers frequently interacted with mutants, increasing their risk of transformation. Ren You, however, had shown up on his first day of work brimming with enthusiasm, like a school kid looking forward to a field trip, completely unaware of the dangers of his job.

The saying goes, It’s often the skilled swimmers who drown. Similarly, on Ghost Street, it’s those unafraid of death who are the likeliest to die.

In his heart, Xu Zhengrong quietly made a decision: Let this be the time.

This time, I’ll be the sacrifice.

By the time Lu Yao followed Qin Qiuming to the end of the first-floor corridor, a dozen security officers had formed two defensive lines, raising their shields to fend off the massive tentacles occasionally lashing out from the quiet room.

The officers at the front line informed Qin Qiuming that Xu Zhengrong had been pulled into the room.

One of the tentacles had originally grabbed a young security officer in the front row. The rookie had been so terrified that he started crying.

Xu Zhengrong had rushed over, hacking off the tentacle with a fruit knife to rescue the rookie, only to be seized by two tentacles himself and dragged inside.

Qin Qiuming frowned, his face shifting through a range of emotions before he finally steadied himself and asked in a low voice, “A fruit knife can sever His hand?”

The reporting security officer was equally puzzled. “I don’t understand either.”

A security officer in the back row added, “That knife was unusually bright, definitely not something from Ghost Street.”

The reporting officer racked his brain to recall the details. “Right, the knife handle had a silver circular mark, and there seemed to be a word in the center.”

The officer in the back followed up, “It looked like the word ‘Yao.'”

As soon as he finished speaking, a deafening crash resounded.

The door of the quiet room shattered, and dozens of tentacles, each lined with golden vertical pupils, extended simultaneously from the room. A creaking sound followed, as if the wall between the corridor and the quiet room was about to collapse at any moment.

The security officers in the hallway were paralyzed with fear. Their legs wobbled, their grips on their shields faltered, and terror swept over them more violently than their instinctive urge to flee.

An awakened vessel—they stood no chance of resisting.

But the anticipated ferocious attack didn’t come. Instead, a golden barrier covered with strange symbols materialized in front of them. The thick tentacles slammed heavily against the barrier, producing dull thuds, but failed to penetrate the fragile-looking glasslike shield.

Qin Qiuming and the security officers held their breath, their faces a mixture of shock and confusion.

Lu Yao stood with her left arm covered in faint golden totems, her right hand gripping the Regulation Rod. She pressed against the protective barrier, step by step pushing the monster’s tentacles back into the quiet room.

“Lu Yao?” A familiar voice, tinged with strangeness, suddenly spoke.

Lu Yao turned around. The security officers stared at her in a daze, their eyes fixed, clearly unaware of the voice she had just heard.

The voice came again, this time filled with incredulity and joy. “You really came to save me!”

The voice was in her head!

The Dream Fulfillment System had been gone so long that Lu Yao had nearly forgotten what it felt like to have a little entity babbling and fretting in her mind. But this voice was different—there was a sobbing undertone, a far cry from its former snarky and arrogant tone. For a moment, she barely recognized it.

Lu Yao turned away, bowing her head to hide her expression, and spoke calmly to the system. “Where are you?”

Suddenly, a massive tentacle shot out from the quiet room, coiling around Lu Yao’s waist and yanking her inside with lightning speed.

At the same time, the system’s voice echoed urgently in her mind:

[I was tricked! I tried to come back to you, but I failed. He is about to notice me. Don’t say anything, just listen to me. He claims to be omniscient and omnipotent, but the knowledge and experience He has gained are far less than yours. After all, you’ve traversed so many worlds. You might be the only one in this world capable of defeating Him. But He has complete control of this world. If He discovers how unique you are, He will do whatever it takes to possess you. You would become His perfect vessel. You must stay hidden and avoid drawing attention. Don’t use phones or the internet in this world; He will detect you. This room is about to disappear. Ghost Street is just… Don’t go near the… ray zone… The true exit is at… I’m waiting for you…]

Lu Yao: “…”

The first time Lu Yao heard that the quiet room had appeared two or three months ago as a “special space,” she had secretly speculated that the timing was suspiciously convenient, coinciding precisely with the disappearance of the Dream Fulfillment System.

Her decision to visit the church was, first, to discuss Jiang Lin, and second, to take the opportunity to inspect the quiet room.

When the security officer reported that the quiet room was in trouble, she had followed without hesitation.

Her intuition had proven correct—the System had indeed left clues.

Unfortunately, the final few words had been cut off, leaving her without the critical information she needed most at this stage.

Inside the quiet room, rows of cylindrical transparent pods lined the walls, each containing slumbering, semi-transformed individuals.

Only the pod in the far corner was broken. The nearly fully-mutated golden octopus shrank back into the corner, looking like a boneless heap of rotting flesh. Its large, drooping head and gleaming golden eyes were fixed firmly on Lu Yao. Its tentacles wrapped around several people—Ren You, Du Xiao, Xu Zhengrong, and the gatekeeper.

Lu Yao took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She raised the Regulation Rod, ready to deal with the crisis at hand before analyzing the System’s cryptic message.

A few seconds passed, and her expression froze. She slowly lowered her weapon.

For reasons unknown, the golden octopus’s tentacle edges began to froth with a fleshy pink foam that rapidly expanded. In less than half a minute, the grotesque creature swelled like a balloon and then, with a loud “pop,” exploded into fragments.

A system screen abruptly appeared in front of Lu Yao, displaying a single, soundless line:

[Leave no one who has witnessed your abilities.]

The System’s sudden reappearance and disappearance was immediately followed by a startling transformation. The walls of the quiet room began to peel, shedding tiny, fingernail-sized blue diamond-shaped patterns that seemed like physicalized data fragments. Bit by bit, these fragments flaked away to reveal wallpaper adorned with pale gold designs beneath.

To Lu Yao’s eyes, this was a clear sign: the Dream Fulfillment System’s special subspace was being dismantled, and the room was reverting to its original state.

Along with this shift, the quiet room’s functionality ceased to exist entirely.

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Ch 144: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

The hallway was half an inch deep in water. As she stepped forward, water seeped out of her shoes with each step. Frowning, Lu Yao noted to herself that the training for the new employees had clearly been insufficient—they couldn’t even last a full day without incident.

Xu Zhengrong and Ren You were unconscious at the entrance to the operating classroom, and the sound of singing and running water came from the restroom across the hall.

Lu Yao checked the two men’s breathing—thankfully, they were only passed out.

Uncertain about the situation in the lobby, she guessed the other guests had likely succumbed like Xu and Ren. With no time to attend to them, she stood and walked toward the restroom to turn off the faucet at the entrance sink.

The sound of running water ceased, but the singing, interspersed with sobbing, continued from the women’s restroom.

Holding the Regulation Rod in her hand, Lu Yao pushed open the restroom door. A heavy stench of saltwater greeted her, overwhelming and sharp, mixed with the metallic tang of iron. Though accustomed to the distinct scent of seawater from her time managing an underwater store, this was far more intense, tinged with a nauseating edge.

The restroom was dim and damp. The artificial windows Lu Yao had personally installed to provide light were now inexplicably blocked, leaving the room cloaked in an unsettling darkness. The electrical lights seemed to have failed as well.

Standing at the doorway, Lu Yao used the Regulation Rod as a wand, sketching a formation in the air. The irregular script connected into a magical array, gradually expanding outward and illuminating the room inch by inch.

Scattered on the wet floor were a few pieces of black clothing. Lu Yao recognized them as the same black suit set Chen You had worn earlier. However, there was no sign of Chen You herself—only her discarded clothes.

The sobbing and singing emanated from the furthest stall, near the wall. Lu Yao twirled the Regulation Rod, prompting the deity carving on the rod’s hilt to gape open with a rasping laugh.

Two shadow butterflies emerged from the carving’s mouth. One hovered silently by Lu Yao’s side, while the other flitted noiselessly into the stall above.

The shadow butterflies, imbued with divine power, could share both their perspective and collected information. Lu Yao had enhanced them with wish energy, enabling them to project holographic visuals.

On a small, glowing blue projection no larger than a palm, the situation inside the stall became clear: the now fully transformed ghostly figure of Chen You was entwined with the terrified Du Xiao, a recently identified ghostly entity herself.

The amorphous white figure of Chen You wrapped around Du Xiao like a cloud, her head resting on Du Xiao’s shoulder, singing softly and eerily. Du Xiao, seated on the toilet, was trembling and tearful, her face slack with shock and eyes filled with trembling despair.

Lu Yao gestured for the butterfly to withdraw, then stepped forward. She rapped on the stall door three times, her tone calm and measured. “Chen You, release the guest. If there’s something you need, we can discuss it outside.”

The ghostly Chen You lifted her head, her hollow black eyes staring at the door for a moment before she slowly unraveled herself from Du Xiao. Her gaping, dark eyes twisted into a malevolent grin.

Using her tail tip, which floated eerily in the air, Chen You opened the stall door and slithered out. Seeing Lu Yao standing there, she grinned even wider and surged forward, her tail curling toward Lu Yao’s legs. “Boss, I’ve been waiting for you. Aren’t you tired of this exhausting existence? Haven’t you long grown weary of it all?”

Lu Yao tilted her head slightly. “What makes you say that?”

Now fully in her ghostly form, Chen You had no feet. Using the tip of her tail, she delicately coiled it around Lu Yao’s leg and slowly worked her way up. “I know it, you see. You’ve walked a long, long road alone. With no clear direction ahead, you’re weary and lost, burdened beyond your limits. What harm is there in stopping for a few days’ rest? The great one holds you in high regard. That deity is omniscient and omnipotent, unmatched in wisdom. If you agree to serve, the great one will guide you onto a path that is both right and easy.”

Lu Yao finally understood the little ghost’s tactics—it was no wonder she could be considered on par with the Golden Octopus.

In Ghost Street, human transformation seemed to split into two categories: the aggressive octopus-like forms and the seemingly harmless ghostly forms.

Those who mutated into octopus creatures tended to be outwardly aggressive, while those who became ghost-like specialized in psychological manipulation.

The little ghost appeared innocuous but was highly skilled in brainwashing. In some ways, this made her more dangerous than the octopus mutants. Her singing, with its hypnotic qualities, was reminiscent of the mythical sirens.

Unfortunately for the little ghost, her attempts at brainwashing were too elementary for someone like Lu Yao; they didn’t even scratch the surface of her emotions.

Lu Yao raised her Regulation Rod and lightly tapped Chen You’s dark, hollow face with the blade. “Chen You, I’m not tired. Although I didn’t initially choose this path willingly, and it’s been fraught with troubles, confusion, and helplessness, the balance between what I’ve lost and what I’ve gained still holds. It hasn’t reached the point of regret. But you—giving up yourself so easily to become like this, serving that one indefinitely for free—are you truly content?”

Warm golden light poured from the blade, like gentle spring rain, falling in fine threads over Chen You’s form.

The little ghost recoiled violently as if burned, retreating in disbelief. Large patches of her ghostly exterior cracked like peeling paint, falling away to reveal her original form underneath.

Chen You glared at Lu Yao with near malice, shrieking, “You could just stop thinking about everything, follow me, and make it all easier. Why do you resist?”

Lu Yao raised the Regulation Rod, the tip aimed directly at Chen You’s hollow eyes. “If I must answer, it’s because the ‘great one’ you serve doesn’t seem all that powerful to me. I think I can resist at least a couple more times.”

In the next instant, the blade, cloaked in warm golden light, pierced straight into Chen You’s eye.

Chen You clutched her face and collapsed, screaming. Thick golden ichor oozed from her eyes.

Lu Yao calmly traced a light magic formation with her hand. The healing light enveloped Chen You, soothing the pain and gradually restoring her sanity.

The oppressive dampness of the restroom began to dissipate. The artificial windows, previously obscured by seaweed, cleared and allowed light to illuminate the room once again.

Lu Yao bent down to pick up the clothes on the floor and tossed them to the dazed Chen You, who sat slumped on the ground. “Put your clothes on before you come out.”

Chen You caught the clothes. When she opened her eyes again, the golden ichor had drained away, leaving her pupils back to normal black. There was no pain and no blindness.

Turning her head, she stared at Lu Yao with a mix of awe and confusion. The shopkeeper, who appeared frail, had proven overwhelmingly strong.

This operation had been one of Chen You’s rare opportunities to take the lead. She had been confident her singing would easily breach the shopkeeper’s mental defenses, yet she had been utterly defeated in an instant.

What was that strange weapon in the shopkeeper’s hand? What was her true ability? Why had someone like her appeared in Ghost Street?

Chen You’s mind, still sluggish, struggled to piece everything together. Then a chilling thought struck her, sending shivers down her spine.

“Does the ‘great one’ also not know where the shopkeeper comes from? Could it be that even HE cannot fully comprehend her abilities or what she relies on?”

At some point, the water that had pooled in the hallway had receded. Xu Zhengrong and Ren You were still lying on the ground.

Lu Yao nudged the two with her foot to wake them, then gently set Du Xiao down as well.

Xu Zhengrong sat up in shock. The moment he saw Lu Yao, he opened his mouth to speak, but something heavy leaned on his shoulder, distracting him. Instinctively, he raised his hand to steady Du Xiao, who was leaning against him.

Lu Yao placed her down and walked away without looking back. “Don’t move. Wait here until I get back.”

Ren You, rubbing his eyes, slowly sat up. “Xu Ge, what happened to us?”

At that moment, Chen You emerged from the restroom, now dressed. The sight startled Ren You so much he nearly jumped up but ended up collapsing back to the floor in a clumsy mess due to his weakness.

Chen You didn’t spare the three of them a single glance. She turned sharply and walked quickly to the warehouse door. Her face turned pale again when she saw Gan Qing slumped in the chair, unable to get up.

In the DIY small shop’s main hall, Huang Qi noticed Lu Yao coming out from the hallway. Eager to please, he jogged over to greet her. “Boss, done with the warehouse?”

Lu Yao scanned the hall. Over a dozen guests were sprawled neatly across the tables as if they were merely napping.

She walked over to check their pulses one by one. Confirming they were only asleep, she turned to address Huang Qi. “You have nothing to say?”

Huang Qi shook his head like a rattle drum. “Nothing at all! From now on, you’re my one and only boss!”

Lu Yao raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised to encounter a staff member who could read the situation so well.

But such a sharp-witted employee could also be a double-edged sword. With brains and adaptability, who knew when he might stab you in the back?

The cards were on the table now. Moving forward, it would either end in an open confrontation or devolve into a psychological battle.

Lu Yao’s personality leaned toward the former—direct and decisive. But experience had taught her that the latter approach often yielded better results.

Even if she sent these three back to the committee, they’d just be replaced by another trio of turncoats. It was better to stick with these three, who were at least halfway trained and reasonably competent.

She patted Huang Qi on the shoulder, accepting his pledge of loyalty. “Fine. Gan Qing and Chen You are still in the warehouse and might need some help. Go move the materials for this afternoon’s session into the second operations classroom.”

Huang Qi nodded and jogged off into the hallway.

Out of Lu Yao’s sight, the smile on the young man’s face faded, replaced by a shadowy gloom in his expression.

Still wary, Lu Yao cast a medium-range healing spell over the store.

In less than five minutes, the unconscious guests began to stir awake.

Xu Zhengrong, Ren You, and Du Xiao regained their strength and hurriedly ran out from the hallway.

Seeing Lu Yao standing in the hall, the three of them exhaled heavily, inexplicably feeling a wave of relief.

For some reason, seeing the shopkeeper again gave them a sense of safety.

Lu Yao noticed Xu Zhengrong was much more proactive than before and waved him over.

He quickly walked up to her, his tone unconsciously tinged with respect. “What’s the matter?”

Was she going to refuse to take care of Du Xiao now? But Du Xiao had regained clarity after spending only a few minutes with her. Xu Zhengrong’s heart was filled with both joy and apprehension.

Lu Yao got straight to the point. “When can Jiang Lin leave the church?”

Xu Zhengrong hesitated for a moment but ultimately answered truthfully: “After Jiang Lin regained consciousness, he seemed to develop a resistance to Him. Director Qin persuaded him to stay in the Security Office.”

Lu Yao thought to herself, You guys move fast. She said, “I want to invite Jiang Lin to work at my shop as a staff member. Can you release him?”

Xu Zhengrong’s expression faltered, and he took half a step closer to Lu Yao, lowering his voice. “You already have three staff members in your shop. Why do you need to hire another?”

Lu Yao replied, “You should know what they are. I need someone capable to oversee them as a team leader.”

A team leader… to oversee them…

Xu Zhengrong stepped back, shaking his head. “They’re all His true believers. They’ve seen Him, entered into contracts, and received blessings. How could Jiang Lin possibly oversee them?”

Blessings? Mental indoctrination, fear domination, and a “non-human lifestyle package”?

Lu Yao had encountered many gods, but this was the first time she’d come across one so stingy and twisted.

Perhaps because she had seen so many powerful and benevolent deities before, this encounter with a dark god evoked not a shred of reverence in her.

“I want to meet Jiang Lin,” she said, “to ask for his opinion. If he’s willing to join my shop, the DIY Studio can assist the church in treating those undergoing transformation.”

This was her compromise.

Xu Zhengrong hesitated, tempted by the offer, but thought about the rules of Ghost Street and shook his head reluctantly. “The arrangement of shop staff has always been under the purview of the Street Committee. The church is only responsible for receiving those undergoing transformation and has no authority to assign people to shops.”

Lu Yao had anticipated this response. “That’s not a problem—I have my ways.”

Unable to persuade her, Xu Zhengrong, bound by multiple concerns, reluctantly called Director Qin. He reported everything that had transpired in the shop and mentioned Lu Yao’s request.

After the afternoon’s DIY session concluded, Lu Yao put up the “Closed” sign ahead of schedule. Without keeping her staff around, she locked the shop and accompanied Xu Zhengrong, Ren You, and Du Xiao to the West District Church.

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