Author Archives: sandy

Wang Yuqin’s shocking actions caught everyone completely off guard.

No one had expected the woman who doted so much on her son to suddenly lose control like that. After the gathering dispersed, a few people stayed behind to help move Zhao Yongxiang’s body, while the others walked home in small groups, sighing and whispering among themselves.

Grandpa Shen, unusually talkative, made several remarks along the way. None of them were kind. Between the lines, he insisted Wang Yuqin had simply gone mad from the shock of her husband’s death.

He had seen hysterical women like that before. Since it was someone else’s family matter, he felt entirely detached and unconcerned.

That detached attitude was completely shattered early the next morning when the village chief arrived at his house with several people.

“You’re saying someone from our family has to go work in the fields?” Grandpa Shen’s voice rose in disbelief. “Me?”

Village chief: “…”

Apparently Shen Qingqing had not discussed this with the old man at all after going home the night before.

Whether she had been too lazy to explain or simply trusted him too much was unclear.

“Why not send Shen Qingqing? She looks full of energy these days,” Grandpa Shen said suspiciously, convinced his granddaughter must be behind this somehow.

In the village chief’s mind, Shen Qingqing’s importance now surpassed that of most able-bodied villagers. Without hesitation, he sided with her.

“Everyone agreed yesterday. Every laborer in the village matters now. Anyone without work has to step up. Shen Qingqing has her own vegetable plot to take care of, she’s busy. You’re the only one free in your family. If you don’t go, who will?”

Grandpa Shen: “…”

The village chief coaxed him gently. “Uncle Shen, everyone’s already waiting outside. Let’s go.”

“I…” Grandpa Shen sputtered angrily, about to protest, when several young men stepped straight into the Shen family courtyard.

They were among those who had previously avoided work. After thinking things over late into the night, they had realized this arrangement was almost certainly Shen Qingqing’s suggestion.

After all, she had been the one arguing with Zhao Hailin earlier, and now she was also one of the beneficiaries receiving vegetables.

Having figured that out, none of them had slept well. Now, upon arriving, they scanned the courtyard with displeased expressions.

Shen Qingqing’s door was still locked, and she appeared to be sleeping, so their irritation fell squarely on Grandpa Shen instead.

In their eyes, the Shen family acted as one unit. Sending the old man as their labor representative clearly meant trying to avoid work.

They had already decided that today, under no circumstances, would they allow Grandpa Shen to slack off.

Though no one spoke, the oppressive stares alone made him falter.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he muttered, grabbing a straw hat resentfully.

After a moment’s thought, he picked up a pack of cigarettes as well.

Before he could tuck it into his pocket, the village chief stopped him.

Recalling Shen Qingqing’s final words from the night before, the chief spoke gently but firmly, “Better leave the cigarettes. There are children working with you today. Consider this a good chance to quit anyway. Who knows when you’ll be able to buy more.”

Grandpa Shen: “…”

He looked outside in shock and saw a line of children waiting, even five- or six-year-olds sent by their families to pull weeds.

The sooner the fields were prepared and crops planted, the sooner they could harvest. Until then, they would have to borrow vegetables from others.

And borrowed food had to be repaid. Crops they grew themselves would at least leave them seventy percent.

Everyone understood that calculation clearly. Though reluctant, no one dared avoid labor.

Grandpa Shen had planned to rely on his age to claim the easiest tasks and finish early, but seeing the row of small children, his face twisted in discomfort.

Even he could not bring himself to compete with six-year-olds for lighter work.

And so he followed the group to the fields.

Zang Lijun and Grandma Shen watched him leave in stunned silence, unable to process what had just happened.

At that moment, Shen Qingqing’s door creaked open.

She stepped out fully dressed, looking nothing like someone who had been sleeping in.

Seeing the two women preparing vegetables, she sat down and began helping swiftly, saying casually, “From now on, we’ll handle breakfast. Dad cooks lunch. Grandpa makes dinner. Division of labor. No objections, right?”

Grandma Shen dropped the beans she was holding. “What did you say?”

Patiently, Shen Qingqing replied, “Everyone in the family has work now. Dad doesn’t count for the moment since he’s still recovering, but once he’s better he’ll help in the fields too. Since everyone has responsibilities, housework should be divided as well.”

“What if you cut your hand doing chores, or cooking takes too long and the fields aren’t properly tended? Are we supposed to live on air?”

“I haven’t even mentioned the rest yet. Cleaning, chopping firewood, all of it should be assigned too.”

Grandma Shen glared. “It’s just cooking. How could that possibly waste time? Haven’t we always lived like this? Why are you stirring up trouble again?”

She had long suspected the village chief’s labor team plan had something to do with her granddaughter.

She had seen Shen Qingqing go straight to speak with him after returning, and within minutes he had called everyone together.

Grandma Shen had always known her granddaughter’s obedience was only an act. Recently she had not even bothered pretending. Still, she had thought Qingqing was merely being rebellious, never imagining she would actually gain influence with the village chief.

A few words from her had secured so many vegetables.

Combined with the vegetable patch Shen Qingqing had cultivated herself, the Shen family had suddenly become one of the most “well-off” households in the village.

As long as nothing unexpected happened, they would not need to worry about food even if the village remained sealed.

That realization had softened Grandma Shen’s attitude toward her somewhat.

Yet in less than half a day, the girl was stirring trouble again.

Shen Qingqing treated her grandmother’s complaints as background noise and smiled lightly. “You may like living that way, but I don’t.”

She rose and began chopping vegetables on the cutting board, the loud thuds making people uneasy.

“More than half the grain at home was bought with my own money,” she said calmly while chopping. “It’s just stored together with yours for now. If you don’t want to live the same way as me, that’s fine. We can separate all household duties and meals.”

“You can keep cooking for Grandpa and Dad. I’ll cook for myself. We’ll divide the grain too. If you run out later, you can ask me for some. I’ll give you as much as you need, but it’ll be exchanged for vegetables.” She spoke gently. “And of course, during special times like this, grain and vegetables harvested daily won’t have the same value. You understand that.”

Shen Qingqing had also stockpiled plenty of compressed biscuits, planning to bring them back to school if necessary, so she had no fear of running out of food.

Zang Lijun lowered her head and continued working silently.

Grandma Shen’s fingers trembled with anger. “We raised you all these years, and now you’re calculating everything so clearly with us. Are you even human?”

“Grandma, you were the one who said I had to earn my own food,” Shen Qingqing replied evenly. “I started pulling weeds in the fields as soon as I could walk. By seven or eight I was cooking on a stool. I’ve never done less housework than anyone else. Why shouldn’t I keep accounts?”

She paused, calm and steady.

“You should think carefully about who exactly you’ve been raising.”

Grandma Shen fell speechless.

Shen Qingqing ignored everything else and began stir-frying the vegetables. At last, Zang Lijun stood up and hurried over to take the spatula from her.

“It’s too hot. I’ll do it. You shouldn’t stay here, let Grandma think things through herself,” she whispered softly.

Shen Qingqing raised an eyebrow in surprise, glanced at her grandmother sitting there sulking, then nodded in agreement.

Grandma Shen was busy calculating how long the remaining grain at home would last, and if she really had to trade with that heartless granddaughter, how many vegetables she would have to give away.

In truth, aside from the family’s daily consumption, the vegetables in their field were more than enough to exchange for grain. Translated on Hololo novels. But then there would be little left to store.

In times like these, not having a reserve of vegetables made her deeply uneasy. What if the chaos outside lasted all the way into winter?

After thinking for a long time, she finally slammed the basket in her hands onto the floor in frustration.

Zang Lijun kept her eyes lowered and continued stirring the wok, pretending not to hear a thing.

After that, surprisingly, Grandma Shen did not go looking for trouble with Shen Qingqing again.

No one knew what she said to Grandpa Shen, but that evening the two argued behind closed doors for a long time. After a bowl shattered inside, Grandpa Shen opened the door with a dark expression and, astonishingly, walked straight to the stove.

Shen Qingqing watched everything quietly. After symbolically tasting two bites of the charred, blackened dish he cooked, she simply chewed on compressed biscuits and returned to her room.

Grandpa Shen nearly fainted from anger.

Closing her door behind her, Shen Qingqing reflected calmly.

She knew perfectly well that her grandfather had intentionally ruined the dish to discourage everyone from letting him cook again. But she refused to yield. No matter how many small tricks he played, they would only waste the family’s already limited grain and seasonings.

Before long, even Grandma would lose patience. The resentment directed at her would inevitably turn into conflict between the two elders themselves.

All she had to do was wait.

Still…

Shen Qingqing glanced at her wristband. The apocalypse countdown displayed on the student device had already switched to a forward timer, now reading:

[1 day 5 hours]

She did not have much longer to remain in this village.

She needed to reunite with the principal as soon as possible.

Throwing herself onto the bed, she buried her face in the pillow and let out a long sigh.

*

Early on the second morning after the outbreak, Tian Xuejun arrived at Fangzhou with a twelve-member squad.

They brought along a military truck loaded with supplies.

Originally, Tian Xuejun had prepared far more, intending to hand everything over for Fu Qing to distribute. But Fu Qing explained that Fangzhou already had its own reserves and declined most of the materials.

Resources outside were extremely scarce. These supplies would be better used by those in greater need.

So Tian Xuejun kept only what the squad required for short-term living and transferred the rest to the city authorities of S City, to be used either for future shelters or distributed immediately to trapped civilians.

The squad leader was Bai Xianglei, a man around thirty-five, sharp-browed and clear-eyed, with a lean, capable build.

Tian Xuejun’s special operations group oversaw all matters related to Fangzhou and Fu Qing. Since she could not remain on campus long-term, she assigned Bai Xianglei to lead the team stationed there.

Whenever Fu Qing or the students left campus in the future, Bai Xianglei would arrange escorts for their protection.

Although Tian Xuejun herself would not live on campus, their temporary command post was nearby. If anything happened, reinforcements could arrive within minutes.

Fu Qing and Tian Xuejun had already met the previous day. Neither was talkative, and their reunion was brief. After introducing Bai Xianglei and exchanging a few words, Tian Xuejun departed to handle other matters.

After seeing her off, Fu Qing turned to face the neatly lined twelve-person squad behind her.

To avoid drawing attention, they had changed into civilian clothes, yet their crisp haircuts and perfectly upright posture instantly revealed their military background.

Fu Qing could not help finding it slightly amusing.

After introductions, she led them to the dormitories prepared in advance. The twelve split up, female soldiers staying in former student housing, while the male soldiers occupied dormitories converted from classroom buildings.

She gave them half an hour to settle in. When she returned, she announced she would take them on a campus tour.

Bai Xianglei naturally agreed, though he cast an extra glance at the group following behind Fu Qing.

Their faces were youthful, unmistakably students. Before arriving, he had heard that the school’s students were only in their second year of university.

Yet their expressions, their posture while walking, even the sun-weathered marks on their skin, were indistinguishable from the soldiers behind him.

Rather than ivory-tower students, they looked like warriors forged through harsh training.

He also noticed something interesting. Unlike soldiers selected through rigorous military screening, Fu Qing’s students clearly differed greatly in physical foundation.

One boy stood nearly six feet three; another girl barely reached five feet. Some wore glasses. Others had pierced ears or dyed hair, faint streaks of color still lingering at the ends.

Standing together, they were mismatched in height and appearance. At best, diverse. At worst, chaotic. No one could guess what criteria Fu Qing had used to assemble such a team.

And yet, seeing them in person made the higher command’s words suddenly real.

These were ordinary college students who had spent an entire year transforming themselves to fight the apocalypse.

Bai Xianglei felt admiration, mixed with curiosity.

If this was merely a tour, why involve them as escorts?

Fu Qing seemed oblivious to his unspoken question. Once everyone assembled, she led them through the campus section by section.

Starting from the east gate, they passed through the quarantine zone, the residential area, the facilities sector, and finally the underground complex.

Fu Qing explained the design philosophy and functions of each area in detail.

Bai Xianglei quickly realized this was not only meant to familiarize future residents with the campus. It also served as a reference model for the government’s future shelter construction.

Officials would certainly consult experts for more technical designs, but time was short. And unlike those experts, Fu Qing had already lived through an apocalypse once.

Many of her design decisions anticipated future developments, including viral evolution and long-term survival challenges. She had prepared against dangers before they even appeared.

For the authorities, that experience was invaluable.

He hurriedly called a halt. At first he wanted to ask whether experts could be brought in to observe, but then remembered that the shelter design team was still in the capital. Left with no better option, he awkwardly pulled out his phone and asked, “Um… would it be all right if I recorded what you’re saying…?”

“And… could you please speak a little slower…” The more he spoke, the more embarrassed he felt.

Fu Qing was simply talking too fast. He genuinely could not keep up.

The remaining eleven squad members caught their captain’s signal at once. Some scrambled for their phones, others dug out notebooks, all beginning to take notes so their captain could later fill in any gaps.

As for Song Rushuang and the others beside them, barely suppressing their laughter as it leaked out in little bursts, well, kids liked to laugh. They could laugh all they wanted.

None of the elite special forces soldiers had expected that their first mission upon arriving in Fangzhou would involve furiously scribbling notes.

They felt vaguely bewildered. Was this what people meant by adapting to local customs?

Had coming to a school somehow infused them with scholarly spirit…?

But hardly anyone here even looked like they were seriously studying.

…

By the time they reached the agricultural zone, all twelve were completely convinced.

If not for the original building names still hanging overhead, who would have guessed this place had once been a school?

Even the shelters the authorities were planning to build could never begin with facilities this complete.

Four-person dorm rooms with private bathrooms. Plenty of recreational space. Daily supplies of fresh vegetables, eggs, and milk. A robotic chef cooking meals. Even the menu was varied. Although the types of vegetables available each day were limited and portions were rationed per person, the weekly menu rarely repeated dishes, and every meal was designed to ensure balanced nutrition.

They had arrived early, just as breakfast service began. Though they had already eaten before coming, Fu Qing still handed each of them a meal voucher and sent them off to get food themselves.

The breakfast selection astonished them: pancakes, fried dough sticks, steamed buns, stuffed flatbreads, porridge, noodles, even tofu pudding in both sweet and savory versions. Drinks included soy milk and fresh milk.

Considering this was an apocalypse shelter, the food was remarkably abundant.

They had brought their own rations and military field meals, fully prepared not to take even the smallest advantage of civilians. If necessary, they had even been ready to donate their own supplies.

Yet now they realized the civilians neither feared being taken advantage of nor, quite possibly, had any interest in their rations at all.

No one had warned them the food here would be this good.

This was nothing like the disaster shelters they had imagined, filled with refugees waiting for aid.

Steam rose from every serving window in the cafeteria. The aroma of freshly cooked food drifted through the air. People lined up in orderly queues, collected their meals, then returned to sit with family and friends.

They chatted while eating. Though not as relaxed as before the outbreak, no one felt their life was in immediate danger, and the overall atmosphere remained light.

This did not feel like a shelter at all. It felt like a peaceful university cafeteria before an early morning class.

Clutching their meal vouchers and breathing in the tempting smells, the soldiers swallowed instinctively. Only after Fu Qing explained the grain production on the plains outside campus did they justify to themselves that “experiencing cafeteria standards is also part of intelligence gathering,” and hurried off to get food.

Bai Xianglei continued recording notes on his phone. Faced with the astonishing variety of dishes, he felt words were insufficient and tried to open his camera to take a picture.

The moment the camera activated, the screen went black.

Song Rushuang said from beside him, “Photography isn’t allowed here. Camera functions are automatically blocked. Only the school-issued wristbands can take pictures.”

She raised her wristband as demonstration.

Bai Xianglei fell silent.

Was this really a university? Even their military district did not possess technology like this. They relied on signal jammers or confiscating devices outright, yet his phone still worked perfectly.

Every app functioned normally except the camera, which alone was disabled. Was something like that even possible?

He recalled the vague mention from higher command about Fu Qing possessing a higher-dimensional entity called a System, and the shock in his heart only deepened.

Left with no choice, Bai Xianglei switched back to handwritten notes and asked, “With so many dishes prepared every morning, aren’t you worried about food waste?”

Before Fu Qing could answer, Su Huaijin eagerly replied, “The cafeteria publishes the next day’s menu on the wristband system the night before. Everyone registers what they want to eat, then uses the wristband to scan and collect meals at the corresponding window.”

“Since everyone receives fixed portions each day, there’s no issue of some people eating too little and leaving leftovers or others not getting enough. Once preferences are registered, the kitchen knows exactly how much to prepare, which minimizes waste.”

He added, “It’s not just meals. Showers, daily supplies, labor assignments, basically everything needed for daily life in Fangzhou can be registered through the wristbands ahead of time. It saves a lot of manpower.”

Although the students had stockpiled plenty of goods and had not yet needed to claim supplies, each person already had an allocated quota in the system. If someone ran out of toothbrushes, toilet paper, or toothpaste, they could simply request more through the wristband.

With the System aggregating data in real time and calculating allocations automatically, human staff only needed to record incoming inventory.

Bai Xianglei was stunned. No wonder Fangzhou had managed to operate for an entire year with only a handful of teachers.

This system was astonishing. The wristbands it issued were directly linked to each person’s biometric information, creating a strong, individualized binding.

Still, he reassured himself, they could develop similar management software for shelters later. Facial recognition could achieve much the same result.

That thought finally steadied him a little.

Su Huaijin added, “Of course, even if there really are leftovers, there’s no need to worry. Fangzhou’s waste-processing system is very complete. All kitchen waste is collected the same day, then sorted and processed into fertilizer, animal feed, and other materials. In the end, we can achieve almost one hundred percent resource reutilization.”

As she finished speaking, the squad members who had already sat down to eat were done with their meals and were returning their spotless trays to the collection area.

As they passed, they glanced at the slop bucket by the entrance and found almost nothing inside, only a few eggshells.

Everyone understood the situation was unusual and did not dare waste food. Even if someone could not finish their portion, someone else was usually still hungry, and sharing among themselves solved the issue. Ironically, the small robot stationed there, though expressionless, somehow gave the impression that it was disappointed at not having any work to do.

The group fell silent.

Su Huaijin paused as well. “…So, at the moment, recycling results aren’t exactly ideal.”

“But it’s fine,” she quickly added, brightening again. “The principal said that even if there isn’t much waste, we don’t need to worry about feed supplies. She’ll figure something out.”

Her tone carried absolute trust in Fu Qing.

Bai Xianglei and the others soon learned exactly how Fu Qing intended to solve the problem.

Because they watched, with their own eyes, as she casually raised a hand and erased an entire shimmering lake.

It vanished cleanly and completely, as if its existence had been deleted from the map itself.

…

[Do you wish to dismantle “Artificial Lake”?]

[Notice: Dismantling a structure refunds 50% of its purchase cost in Teaching Points. Demolished facilities must be repurchased if rebuilt.]

[“Artificial Lake” is a starting bonus structure. Purchase cost: 0 Teaching Points. Original store price: 300 Teaching Points. Refund upon dismantling: 0 Teaching Points. Please confirm carefully.]

[Yes]

The moment Fu Qing selected Yes, the calm surface of the artificial lake suddenly churned.

People walking nearby cried out and hurried away as the soil and grass along the shore expanded inward at astonishing speed. Earth rose upward, greenery intertwined with water, and within moments the vibrant green overtook the blue. In the blink of an eye, the vast lake was replaced by a flourishing lawn.

Not only Bai Xianglei and his team but even Song Rushuang and the others had never seen anything like it. They stared, dumbfounded.

The principal’s magic was not finished yet. Fu Qing then dragged several previously purchased structures out of her inventory.

A fish farming zone.
A black soldier fly breeding facility.
A spirulina cultivation pool.
And…

All twelve soldiers, along with Fangzhou’s elite student team, watched with greenish faces as masses of pale, plump black soldier fly larvae wriggled and poured from empty air like a waterfall, tumbling noisily into rows of breeding containers.

“…Had the principal really been carrying these things around the whole time?”

In the blink of an eye, several brand-new buildings stood beneath the sunlight.

The sheer wonder of the System completely convinced Bai Xianglei.

All he could feel now was relief that the person who possessed such power had chosen to use it not for personal gain, but to shelter as many people as possible.

For a long time to come, Fangzhou would undoubtedly remain one of the world’s foremost shelters.

Watching residents curiously gather near the breeding facilities to peer inside, Bai Xianglei could not help but sigh inwardly.

Those living here, brought in before or just as the outbreak began, likely had no idea how fortunate they were compared to people outside.

Fu Qing introduced each facility’s function in turn, then registered the related farming tasks into the wristband system. Only then did she look back at Bai Xianglei and the others.

“Before we head to the agricultural zone,” she said, “there’s one more place I’d like to show you.”

She tilted her head toward the direction of the athletic field. Bai Xianglei followed her gaze in confusion and noticed Song Rushuang and the students suddenly brighten, barely able to hide their excitement.

The students subtly gathered around Fu Qing at the center of their formation. Whether they had intentionally drawn closer to their principal or whether it was a habit formed through long training even they did not notice was impossible to tell.

Noticing their small, barely concealed expressions, Fu Qing spoke considerately:

“Before the tour continues, I have a question.”

“I wonder whether you would be interested in a friendly match with Fangzhou’s students?”

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Seeds themselves were not worth much. What truly held value was the labor invested afterward.

By contributing only a small amount of seed, one could gain an extra thirty percent of the harvest without doing any additional work. Once such a condition was proposed, no one would reasonably refuse.

That was why Shen Qingqing had included Aunt Li and the others in her proposal from the start.

If any of them later declined, withdrawing would not be troublesome.

The village chief froze for a moment, then gritted his teeth. “No problem. I’ll make the decision and agree to it. We’ll do it this way.”

He had originally assumed Shen Qingqing’s condition would involve asking for special care for the Shen family during the village lockdown. After all, she had taken such enormous risks. It would only be natural for her to seek something in return for herself and her family.

But to his surprise, the condition she ultimately proposed was simply a fair exchange.

Those with land would provide seeds; those without land would provide labor. Everyone could survive together. No one was deliberately disadvantaged, and anyone with basic reason would find no grounds for objection.

She had considered everything so carefully that even from the chief’s perspective, there was nothing to criticize.

The thought moved him slightly.

Without consulting anyone else, he decided on the spot. “You don’t need to worry about this anymore. I’ll go explain it to them.”

When Shen Qingqing had stated her condition, she had spoken quietly beside him, unheard by the others. After thinking it through, the chief realized it truly would not be appropriate for her to present the proposal herself.

No matter how capable or perceptive she was, in the villagers’ eyes she was still a young junior, and a girl at that. If people learned the plan had been led by her, opposition might arise even against a proposal that otherwise would have passed smoothly.

That was simply how things worked in the village. He had been born and raised there, climbing from migrant laborer to village chief over decades, and until now he had never thought much of such attitudes.

But suddenly, the idea that this urgent plan might be obstructed by such narrow-minded prejudice filled him with unexpected irritation.

Not to mention Shen Qingqing’s own grandfather…

He let out a heavy sigh.

At that moment, Shen Qingqing spoke again.

Hearing him agree, the girl pressed her lips together and revealed a sweet smile. For the first time, she resembled the obedient child she once had been.

Yet the chief, seeing that smile, had the uneasy feeling she was about to stir up something else.

“Thank you, Grandpa Village Chief. But there are a few things we should clarify first. It’s not just food. In the coming period, the village may also lose water and electricity.”

“With limited manpower, the military will prioritize protecting major substations. The distribution lines supplying remote villages like ours won’t receive protection. If any node is damaged by zombies or left unmaintained for too long, the entire system could fail.”

The chief was utterly bewildered. He knew nothing about such technical matters and had no idea where Shen Qingqing had learned all this, but he nodded along anyway.

“If water and electricity are cut off, the village will fall into even greater chaos,” she continued. “So you’re right. We must stay united to survive. Labor will become even more valuable under these circumstances. That’s why I suggest that when forming labor teams, we organize them by individuals, not by households.”

“That way, people who usually slack off won’t be able to hide behind hardworking family members. In times like this, we can’t allow anyone to continue living leisurely as before.”

“Besides that, I suggest forming a patrol team to circle the village daily. On one hand, they can watch for approaching zombies. On the other, they can supervise the labor teams.”

She spoke calmly, but the chief immediately thought of someone.

Zhao Hailin.

If labor were assigned per household, that man would absolutely stay home while letting his wife and mother work in his place. Hadn’t he done exactly that when Old Zhao was still alive?

And there were others too, people lazy enough to lie around all day and sneak vegetables from neighbors’ fields when they needed ingredients. Their character spoke for itself. Some form of enforcement was indeed necessary.

Framing it as a patrol team made it legitimate.

The chief knew Zhao Hailin had past conflicts with Shen Qingqing and naturally assumed this suggestion targeted him specifically.

“You’re right,” he said firmly. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle the mobilization. Not a single worker will be wasted.”

Anyone dreaming of lying at home during a crisis could forget it.

He was already composing sharp remarks in his mind to shame Zhao Hailin later when Shen Qingqing added with a cheerful smile,

“Thank you. And to make things fair, our family will also contribute one laborer.”

“—You can include my grandfather.”

The chief blinked. “?”

He thought he had misheard.

Shen Qingqing said lightly, “My father is recovering from injuries and can’t do heavy work for now. My mother and grandmother need to tend our family’s vegetable plot. That leaves only my grandfather.”

“He’s physically healthy with all his limbs intact. If the elderly and women can work, then naturally he can too. Please feel free to assign him tasks.”

The chief stared blankly for several seconds. “…Huh?”

His gaze drifted toward Old Shen, who stood at the edge of the crowd smoking and impatiently complaining about wanting to go home. A single thought surfaced in his mind:

What goes around comes around.

It was not that retribution never came. The time had simply not arrived yet.

“Alright,” he said at last, withdrawing his gaze. “I’ll announce it shortly.”

…

Aunt Li could hardly believe her ears.

Just by providing a little seed, they could receive thirty percent of the harvest for free? Translated on Hololo novels. And the village chief had made it clear that for these newly reclaimed fields, they would not need to do any work at all. They simply had to wait at home until harvest time, when others would gather the vegetables and deliver them straight to their doors.

For people like Zang Lijun and Grandma Shen, who had always tended their own plots, this was one thing. But for Aunt Li and the others, who had stopped farming for a period and only recently resumed working their fields, it felt like pies falling straight from the sky and landing on their heads.

“That’s not something falling from the sky,” someone muttered nearby. “Shen Qingqing threw it to us.”

Aunt Li wholeheartedly agreed.

With the outside world in such chaos, even if the zombies were eventually cleared away, they would not dare travel into the county anytime soon. The tragic fate of Old Zhao and the others had frightened them too deeply.

Under such circumstances, having more food stored at home meant a greater chance of survival.

How could they not feel grateful to Shen Qingqing?

If she had not pulled them along at the crucial moment, how could they possibly have gained such an advantage?

The village chief had announced that before the newly planted crops matured, those with vegetables already growing would temporarily share some produce with households that had none.

Not too much. Each family’s own needs came first. And whatever was shared was not a gift.

Everything taken would later have to be repaid.

After repayment, an additional thirty percent would still be owed before the remaining produce could belong fully to the growers.

Once this was explained, not only Aunt Li and the others but even Zang Lijun and her group could not help smiling.

The vegetables they grew were originally meant partly for sale anyway. Now that they could not travel to the county market, consuming them within the village worked just as well. They were not losing anything at all.

Some even felt this system was better than before. Before the disaster, neighbors often picked vegetables freely from others’ fields. Out of courtesy, people rarely said anything even when they noticed.

Now that a patrol team existed, sneaking into fields to pick vegetables would be impossible.

As for the patrol team, since its official duty was to “protect the village” and “watch for approaching zombies,” everyone in the village had to take turns participating, not just those with farmland.

And once patrols existed, village order naturally fell under their watch as well. With so many eyes observing, anyone trying to slack off, avoid labor, or secretly keep more harvested vegetables than reported would have to think twice about the shame of being exposed.

No matter how they calculated it, they were clearly benefiting.

They received more while worrying less.

Aunt Li felt delighted inside, and even the gloom brought by the apocalypse faded somewhat.

In stark contrast stood the villagers without farmland.

Having to hand over thirty percent of crops they worked hard to grow was something few could accept.

Zhao Hailin was the first to object.

“I don’t agree!” he said, face flushed red. “Seeds don’t cost much. We can just pay for them. Once we’ve paid, how we plant and distribute the harvest should be our own business.”

“And who knows how long the outside chaos will last? Crops have to be grown continuously. If things stay chaotic for a year, are we supposed to farm for others for free all year? That makes no sense.”

A few people voiced agreement.

But others still resented Zhao Hailin, believing everything had started because of him. If he had not spread rumors earlier about relocation housing, they might now be among those receiving free vegetables.

Feeling the angry stares behind him like needles in his back, Zhao Hailin raised his voice even louder, demanding an explanation from the village chief.

Unbeknownst to him, his energetic arguing only made him look worse in others’ eyes.

Old Zhao had just died, and in such a tragic way. Translated on Hololo novels. Aunt Zhao sat off to the side, spirit visibly broken, barely reacting to anything around her. Yet Zhao Hailin was already calculating his own losses and quibbling over benefits.

The label of an unfilial son settled firmly upon him, and in a village like this, that meant public scorn.

Even the most conservative elders, those who traditionally favored men, now looked at him differently.

Shen Qingqing stood at the edge of the crowd the entire time, silent, keeping her presence as small as possible.

She only watched, expressionless.

At last, the village chief spoke.

“Pay money instead? At a time like this, money is nothing but scrap paper. Supplies matter more than anything. You won’t die without money, but without food you won’t even survive the week.”

He did not believe Zhao Hailin failed to understand this. The man was simply using others in the same situation to stir trouble under the guise of collective fairness.

The more he thought about it, the more the chief felt both amused and irritated. “You want to trade for seeds? Fine, I’ll allow it. But you’ll have to trade using your stored grain.”

The moment grain was mentioned, Zhao Hailin’s wife, who had been caring for Aunt Zhao, rushed forward in alarm.

“No!” she cried.

Without vegetables, they could still try gathering wild greens in the mountains. But without grain, life truly could not continue.

Crops took time to grow. Without stored food, how would they survive until harvest?

Zhao Hailin flew into a rage from humiliation. “Shut up! What business is this of yours?”

Without thinking, he shoved at his wife, trying to push her aside. The others could not stand it any longer. Several people, blood boiling, pointed at Zhao Hailin and began shouting at him.

His wife had reached her limit as well. She clawed at his face with her nails and screamed hoarsely, “Zhao, if you dare give away our grain, we’re getting divorced! I can’t live like this anymore anyway!”

They had only been married a short time, yet Zhao Hailin’s bad habits had surfaced one after another. With no children tying her down, she truly no longer wanted to endure it.

Just as the couple seemed ready to come to blows, Shen Qingqing, who had been standing aside with folded arms and watching coldly, noticed from the corner of her eye that Aunt Zhao, who had stood like a statue with her head lowered the entire time, suddenly moved.

Because both of them stood near the edge of the crowd, they had unknowingly ended up side by side.

Aunt Zhao reached out and pointed at the wood-cutting knife Shen Qingqing carried. “Qingqing, may I borrow that knife?”

Slightly surprised, Shen Qingqing nodded.

Taking the knife, Aunt Zhao pushed through the crowd and walked to the center.

She had once been someone who cared deeply about appearances. Shen Qingqing remembered countless times she had proudly boasted about her capable, reliable son, her eyes shining with pride. But now this Aunt Zhao, Wang Yuqin, had disheveled hair and clothes smeared with dirt from when she fainted earlier. She was almost unrecognizable.

Carrying the knife, she slowly walked up to her son and pulled her daughter-in-law to her feet.

The two had been grappling on the ground. Accustomed to farm work, the younger woman’s strength had surged with anger, and she had actually pinned Zhao Hailin down, scratching several bloody streaks across his face.

When she was abruptly pulled away, she still burned with fury, but upon seeing the wood-cutting knife in her mother-in-law’s hand, her face turned pale.

Wang Yuqin simply gestured for her to stand aside. Lowering her gaze, she looked at her son, who lay on the ground clutching his face and shouting curses, her expression filled with disappointment.

This was the son she had once been so proud of.

All the love and careful upbringing she had given him, all the protection since childhood. No matter how little Zhao Hailin achieved, she had always believed he would someday make something of himself.

She had never realized he was rotten to the core long ago.

Still spewing insults and cursing his wife, Zhao Hailin suddenly found a wood-cutting knife pressed before his eyes, its bright blade pointed directly at the tip of his nose.

Wang Yuqin’s face was exhausted, but her grip was steady. Years of farm labor made such tools extensions of her hands.

“Tomorrow you will go work in the fields with the labor team,” she said evenly. “You will be the first to arrive and the last to leave.”

“If I find out you slack off, show up late, or leave early… well, I don’t particularly want to live anymore anyway. You can come with me and keep me and your father company. All right, Hailin?”

Her voice held no emotion, as though her heart had already turned to ash. That calmness frightened Zhao Hailin far more than anger would have.

The mother before him felt like a stranger.

He had a sudden certainty that if he refused, Wang Yuqin might truly strike.

The man who had been making a scene moments ago instantly fell silent.

Staring at the blade, he swallowed hard and stammered, “…I… I understand.”

Wang Yuqin nodded, withdrew the knife, and said flatly, “Good.”

Then she turned, walked step by step back to Shen Qingqing, returned the knife, and once again sank into silence.

Everyone’s gaze followed her. The gathering, which had been filled with heated arguments over the formation of the labor team, suddenly grew quiet as well.

The surroundings fell completely silent. Even the voices of opposition disappeared.

Shen Qingqing exchanged a glance with the village chief.

And just like that, the matter was settled.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Previous

After confirming the hypothesis that “magical constructs can function in the dungeon worlds,” An Fengxuan burst into wild laughter.

Zhou Li grew concerned, wondering if she had been contaminated.

An Fengxuan quickly reassured her. “Don’t worry, Boss. I’m not insane—I’m just thrilled. I want to learn magic!”

Zhou Li asked, “You mean you want to be a priest?”

“If I can meet one and learn divine spells, that’s ideal. If not, other professions will do.”

An Fengxuan had made up her mind: once she returned to the zombie world, she would gather as many sea fluorites as possible. She believed that as the supermarket’s fame spread across worlds, the person she was waiting for would eventually appear.

Then she suddenly remembered—she was still a heavily indebted employee. How could she go off to study without discussing it with her boss first?

“Boss…”

Zhou Li already knew what she wanted to say and replied, “As long as work isn’t busy, you’re allowed to take time for study.”

“Thank you, Boss!”

*

Magic and Steam Plane – Emerald Wasteland

The “earthquake” caused by the small supermarket was still rippling across the land.

After Ariel, Luna too heard from the shaman about the growing rumor that the supermarket might actually be a divine realm.

Before the Age of Waning Magic, the concept of divine realms had already spread across the Four Continents.

People believed that every god possessed a divine realm of their own, residing in temples within that sacred kingdom. Upon death, their believers would be drawn there to serve as divine attendants.

Over time, this belief evolved—by the waning era, it was thought that only the most devout, those who had cultivated themselves close to godhood, could enter such realms.

When divine power diminished and gods weakened, they no longer had the strength to receive every deceased follower. Only the most exceptional believers were chosen, and the gods would send divine envoys to personally open the gate of the divine realm and bring them in.

Throughout history, literature and art often depicted these realms, though none had ever been verified. Those who claimed to have been there were later proven delirious.

If not for the existence of the Primordial Sea of Life, people might have abandoned the notion of divine realms entirely under the march of industrial progress.

Yet even the Primordial Sea’s divine nature had begun to be questioned.

For Mayrelian nations—whose power rested upon magic and faith—such doubt was disastrous. If the divine realm itself were denied, the entire structure of faith and order could collapse.

Thus, both Ariel and the Elders of the Senate were desperate to use this event to restore people’s faith in the gods and in magic.

Those same nobles who once wore greed on their faces now hid behind reverent masks.

No one dared to wager that the supermarket was not a divine realm.

After all—what else could explain its endless supply of elemental gems? If it truly was a god’s domain, wasn’t such abundance only natural?

What else could explain how it appeared and disappeared without warning? The divine realm’s gate opens—it manifests. The gate closes—it vanishes. Simple.

And only a divine realm could produce the overwhelming energy field that destroyed thieves and shadow creatures in an instant. If a god’s domain could be invaded so easily, would it still be worthy of the name?

The only problem was—whose divine realm was it?

The Senate analyzed every known deity, but none seemed to fit.

The Nethermoon Goddess was the first ruled out—shadow creatures couldn’t even approach the supermarket.

The God of Light and the Goddess of War were dismissed next. Their followers had ventured there in waves and felt nothing.

The Goddess of Life was also out—if the supermarket was her realm, then what would the Primordial Sea of Life be?

That left only three possibilities: the Goddess of Wisdom, the Goddess of Oaths, or the Goddess of Nature.

The debate among the elders grew heated:

“To buy anything in that store, you must follow strict rules—perhaps it’s the Goddess of Oaths’ realm.”

“But that could also be seen as a form of order. By your logic, it might belong to the Goddess of Order instead.”

“There are many advanced industrial products inside. Maybe it’s the realm of those false gods of the steam faction.”

“False gods don’t have divine realms!”

“What if it’s a wild god, an unknown one never recorded in the codices?”

“Impossible for it to be the Goddess of Wisdom’s—she would never hide herself like this.”

“And the Goddess of Nature despises industry. Her realm could never hold machinery.”

“The Atmos people are opportunistic fence-sitters. They keep praising these so-called ‘false gods.’ Who knows—maybe if they flatter them long enough, one might actually manifest.”

By the end of their analysis, an uneasy conclusion settled over the council.

Either this supermarket was the divine realm of some steam-faction god—or it belonged to a new, unrecorded wild god.

And either answer made them deeply uncomfortable.

If it was one of their own, they would rather see it destroyed!

But saying that was easier than doing it.

Even the Archmage sent by Kirog declared that he needed to observe longer before making any conclusion.

In the end, the Senate resolved to gather more powerful individuals to investigate the Emerald Wasteland in secret.

If it was confirmed to be the realm of a newborn wild god—they would eradicate it at all costs.

*

The Thorn Consortium, however, took the opposite stance.

Upon hearing that a divine realm might have appeared in the Emerald Wasteland, the Chairwoman was thrilled.

To her, it didn’t matter whether it belonged to an old god, a new god, or a wild god.

Any being capable of wielding power beyond both magic and technology was, without question, a god.

She even began to entertain a bold idea—perhaps the Consortium should begin worshipping this “God of Commerce” to seek divine protection.

Indeed, the Chairwoman had already taken the liberty of bestowing upon Zhou Li her own divine title:

The God of Commerce.

Luna said, “…Isn’t that blasphemous? What if there really is a God of Commerce out there?”

The Chairwoman replied, “Look at her—she doesn’t belong to either the Mayrelian faction or the Atmos faction. She takes no sides, yet does business with both, treating every honest trader equally. Tell me, if that’s not the God of Commerce, then what is?”

Luna: …

Admittedly, that actually sounded reasonable.

A true God of Commerce would sell anything. Elemental gems, high-tech inventions more advanced than Kemeigao’s machines—everything had a price.

“But she looks like an ordinary human,” Luna added after some thought.

The Chairwoman replied, “If a god’s disguise could be seen through so easily, would they still be a god?”

Luna had no response.

And just like that, she found herself thoroughly indoctrinated.

*

When Zhou Li and the supermarket returned to the Emerald Wasteland more than twenty days later, she thought for sure the system had mis-set the coordinates.

“Why is it this lively? Don’t tell me you dropped us in a village, system?”

The system answered, “No mistake. This is the same location.”

Zhou Li was silent for a moment.

“So… this entire village was built while we were gone?”

Indeed. From the storefront outward, the endless wilderness had transformed into rows of wooden-and-stone houses.

They were neatly arranged, with streets divided by architectural style.

Looking up, Zhou Li recognized the banners fluttering above.

The cluster of homes built around a modest chapel belonged to the Mayrelian faction. The rough, refugee-camp-like dwellings were those of the Thorn Consortium, and the row of linked townhouses clearly marked the Atmos faction.

Suddenly, a shout rang through the air: “It’s back!”

Luna was the first to arrive, leading her people. When she saw Zhou Li, she visibly exhaled in relief.

“My God of Commerce, you’ve finally returned.”

Zhou Li thought drily, What is this, a contagion? First Kemeigao with his “my this-god, my that-god,” and now her too?

Out loud, she said, “What, were you worried I’d run off with the money?”

Luna waved her hands quickly. “I wouldn’t dare! I have absolute faith in your noble character.”

Zhou Li: ?

Was that sarcasm or not?

But Luna’s expression was so sincere it was impossible to tell.

Sigh, Zhou Li thought. Thanks to the internet, I can’t even tell when people are being genuine anymore.

“Anyway,” Zhou Li asked, “you’re here to pick up the goods? Are you ready to receive them?”

“We’re fully prepared,” Luna replied. “We’ve hired plenty of laborers for transport, and even built a warehouse.”

Zhou Li eyed the not-so-large structure she pointed at. “That warehouse alone won’t hold everything.”

“Exactly why I’d like to request delivery in batches,” said Luna.

The Chairwoman had already studied the instruction manuals and decided that laying a telephone network couldn’t be done all at once—it would have to be built in phases.

After internal discussion, the Consortium also agreed to cooperate with the Radiant Consortium on the project. To that end, the Radiant Consortium would establish a communications station in the Emerald Wasteland.

Zhou Li shrugged. “Sure.”

She then told the system to “spit out” the basic equipment that had been stored via folded-space technology, stacking it neatly in the open field.

That one gesture left the archmages hiding in the shadows trembling in awe.

“She didn’t use a teleportation circle!? A miracle—this is a divine miracle!” someone cried.

Ariel, who knew the Senate intended to test Zhou Li and the supermarket, wanted to flee on the spot. The last thing she needed was to be caught in divine wrath because of their meddling.

Just then, a deep, thoughtful voice muttered, “Could that be spatial magic?”

The suggestion was met with immediate outrage. “Impossible! There’s no such thing as spatial magic in this world!”

In this realm, magic types were defined by elemental affinity. There were only nine: water, fire, wind, earth, lightning, light, nature, life, and shadow.

No one had ever discovered a spatial elemental gem—nor did any god rule over the “law of space.”

“But isn’t a divine realm itself a kind of ‘space’?” the voice continued.

“You shouldn’t—!” a mage began to scold, but then the speaker pulled back their cloak, revealing a face everyone knew all too well.

“Chief Elder Wendisha!?” Ariel gasped. “You came in person?”

Wendisha simply said, “I came to see for myself.”

At her appearance, the noisy debate suddenly unified into hushed silence.

“If it’s proven to be a divine realm,” someone murmured, “that wouldn’t bode well for us…”

Wendisha said calmly, “You must look at matters dialectically. Even if it is not the domain of our gods, at least it proves that divine realms exist—and that the gods themselves exist.”

*

Author’s Note

Boss Zhou: Me? The God of Commerce?
Oh, right—yes! I am the True Saint of Trade, the Savior of Humanity, the Infinite Protector, the Mysterious Island Master, the God of Commerce—Zhou Xiaoli!

System: …We don’t have enough server space for that many titles.

☢️☢️☢️

Luna was jolted awake in the middle of the night by the guards on duty. When she learned that the supermarket had disappeared, she bolted outside—her hair unpinned, clothes still wrinkled from sleep.

On the way, she ran into Ariel and her people, who had clearly just gotten the same news.

The Radiant Consortium were the first to notice the disappearance. They were now engaged in desperate combat against the shadow creatures that had surged forward the moment the supermarket vanished.

Seeing Luna, Kemeigao shouted for help.

Luna first glanced toward Ariel and saw her standing aside with arms crossed, looking thoroughly entertained.

Truth be told, while firearms could harm shadow creatures, the effect was pitiful. Against humans, one bullet could kill. Against those things? It barely shaved a sliver off their health bar—one shot might not even deal one percent damage.

Steam-powered weapons were effective for fighting people, but when it came to dealing with magical entities, only magic could counter magic.

Kemeigao, sweating, felt lucky that the Thorn Consortium dabbled in both magic and technology—maybe he could get them to lend a hand.

But Luna was a merchant, not a saint.

He had no choice but to promise to sell the Thorn Consortium a batch of firearms at cost price.

Only then did Luna signal one of her never-before-seen guards to act.

That guard had always worn a wide cloak that concealed their figure and a hood that hid most of their masked face, so no one knew whether they were male or female.

Now, as the hood fell back, everyone saw the carved multicolored runes on the mask—and gasped.

A shaman!

Shamans, like druids, were followers of the Goddess of Nature.

But unlike druids—who roamed the world in the open—shamans were secretive, elusive, and few in number. They rarely integrated with ordinary society, and most people never saw one in their lifetime.

Ariel was surprised at first to see a shaman among the Thorn Consortium’s ranks, but then it made sense. The Emerald Wasteland was a perfect place for such reclusive believers to hide, and since the Consortium frequently traveled these lands, it wasn’t strange that they knew a few.

The shaman pulled from the cloak a staff carved with totems and miniature figures, chanting as they swung it in sweeping arcs.

Every shadow creature that came close was physically obliterated.

The Radiant Consortium soldiers frowned, puzzled. “I thought they’d use spells. Why just… hit things with a stick?”

“Shut up,” Kemeigao snapped.

When they hit something with a stick, it was like giving the monster a massage. When a shaman did it, the blow was an exorcism.

These fools couldn’t tell the difference, yet they were proud of their ignorance.

No wonder—the followers of the War God were never known for brains. The War Academy trained nothing but muscle-bound brutes.

When the shaman finally cleared most of the surrounding shadow creatures, Luna went to speak with Kemeigao.

“What happened?” she asked. The empty field before them—where the supermarket should have been—made her uneasy.

Kemeigao briefly explained how the entire building had vanished into thin air.

“You’re sure it disappeared instantly, not teleported away, or—”

Before she could finish, a soldier interrupted her loudly, “It’s true! I was on night watch! I was dozing against the wall when I suddenly fell flat on my face. I turned around—and the whole building was just gone!”

Kemeigao added, “And besides, do you know how huge a teleportation circle would need to be to move a structure that size? No Archmage alive could build one that big.”

Ariel sneered. “You seem quite knowledgeable about teleportation magic.”

Kemeigao lifted his chin. “Know your enemy, know yourself—then you’ll win every battle. If I don’t understand magic, how can I design machines to replace it?”

Luna turned to the shaman. “Can you sense anything?”

The shaman circled the empty space, chanting and stamping rhythmically. After a while, a deep voice murmured, “The wind says… there was no trace of magical energy flow.”

That ruled out teleportation magic.

“Then what—did the shop grow legs and walk away?” someone muttered.

Ariel gave a short laugh and led her people back toward the Senate camp.

Luna’s eyes flickered with calculation. She called out, “Lady Ariel, wait.”

“What is it?” Ariel’s tone was cold.

Luna took a few steps closer but was blocked by the knights.

She looked at Ariel imploringly. The other woman said nothing at first, merely watching her with a calm, unreadable expression.

The standoff lasted so long it began to look almost suggestive to onlookers—until Ariel finally waved the knights aside and allowed Luna to follow her to the Senate’s camp.

Even on the enemy’s turf, Luna didn’t bother to restrain herself. “Lady Ariel,” she began bluntly, “you seemed… unsurprised when the shop disappeared. Do you know why?”

Ariel had indeed watched the chaos unfold with detached calm. At first, Luna thought it was petty revenge—Ariel enjoying her and Kemeigao’s suffering. But then she realized Ariel hadn’t been surprised at all.

That meant she knew something.

And considering the Black Crow Legion were the first to discover this mysterious shop, it was entirely possible Ariel had learned something from them before coming here.

Ariel replied, “Didn’t the shopkeeper tell you she’d be leaving for about twenty days?”

“She did,” Luna said, “but she didn’t say she’d take the entire shop with her!”

Ariel fell silent.

She recalled the sentries at Vitus Outpost mentioning strange occurrences before—how they had once returned here hoping to buy more gems, only to find an empty field. The soldiers had guessed that the owner, afraid of attention, had dismantled the shop overnight and fled.

Ariel hadn’t known if she’d find anything this time—until she spotted the blood hawk circling from her airship. That was why she’d insisted on coming.

Tonight was her first time personally witnessing the “shop vanishing” phenomenon.

As shock faded, her mind raced. How could the shopkeeper possibly do it?

Even as Kemeigao said—no Archmage could build a teleportation circle large enough to move an entire building along with living people.

Unless…

A dreadful thought flashed through Ariel’s mind. The mere possibility made her shudder from head to toe.

“What’s wrong?” Luna asked, noticing her trembling.

Ariel’s turquoise eyes flickered—then glowed faintly with specks of gold.

“Leave,” she said curtly.

Luna, baffled, didn’t press. She already found the Senate’s nobles insufferably arrogant, so Ariel’s behavior didn’t exactly make her opinion worse—it had already been low enough.

She turned back to her camp to discuss with her own people.

Once Luna was gone, Ariel immediately contacted the Senate’s High Elder.

“Honored Elder Wendisha,” she reported breathlessly, “the Emerald Wasteland may be witnessing the descent of a divine realm…”

*

After Zhou Li sent An Fengxuan back to the Infinite World, The Game apparently didn’t appreciate her casually snatching away one of its players. The moment An Fengxuan stepped out of the supermarket, the system retaliated—throwing her straight into a dungeon instance.

Zhou Li: …

Was the damn Game angry now?

She didn’t rush to locate An Fengxuan right away, instead resuming business as usual when the clock hit operating hours.

The next morning, as she opened the doors, she saw An Yixiao standing at the boundary between dawn and shadow, staring into the distance pensively.

Hearing the door open, she turned around.

“You going for the brooding aesthetic now?” Zhou Li asked.

She chuckled softly, pulled out a green tea–flavored cookie stick, and said, “Fengxuan asked me to request leave for her.”

Zhou Li raised an eyebrow. “You know she got pulled into an instance?”

She nodded. “She carries an item that alerts me whenever she enters one.”

When An Fengxuan had entered, An Yixiao had used an artifact—The Eerie Right Eye—to view the dungeon.

It was an A-rank dungeon. Her promotion trial.

If she cleared it, she’d advance to A-rank. If she failed—she’d become part of the dungeon itself.

The trial would take some time, so she’d sent An Yixiao to inform Zhou Li personally.

Zhou Li wasn’t too worried. During their time in the world of Magic and Steam, Lamanda, Luna, and Ariel had all exchanged magical artifacts for store credits.

While seeking a cure for The Game’s mental corruption, An Fengxuan had bought several such items from Zhou Li, including a Purification Necklace that Ariel had brought.

Blessed by a priest, it could cleanse negative effects—exactly the kind of spiritual tool she needed.

She wanted to test whether magical artifacts could work against The Game’s pollution.

Zhou Li suspected they would. After all, Game-generated items worked across worlds—so why wouldn’t magical ones?

As for why that was possible…

Zhou Li believed that all these planes must share some underlying property—whether physical, metaphysical, or divine.

For example, in the interstellar plane, the planets Blue Star and Mia were similar yet composed of different materials. Their biology evolved differently, yet both were habitable for humans.

To truly understand why “Game items” and “magical artifacts” both functioned across dimensions, one would have to uncover the secrets of the System itself.

But that was far beyond human comprehension—and Zhou Li had no desire to become a scientist obsessed with the unknowable.

She wasn’t that curious. And she had no intention of getting stuck pondering questions modern science couldn’t touch.

*

After spending four days with her supermarket in the Infinite World’s public hall, Zhou Li returned briefly to Earth’s base plane, then entered the dungeon where An Fengxuan was.

She arrived right at the climax of the trial.

As soon as the supermarket materialized, the surviving players—who had already heard of its legend—rushed inside for safety.

“We’re not retreating,” they said breathlessly. “We’re just… catching our breath.”

An Fengxuan, though uninjured, looked utterly battered.

It had been a long time since her last dungeon run—she was rusty. Worse, The Game seemed to be deliberately targeting her. While other B-rank players faced A-rank-level challenges, her trial felt like pre–S-rank hell.

She’d cursed aloud, “The Game, are you seriously that petty!?”

One of the enemy anomalies had hissed back, “Throw away that illegal item that doesn’t belong to the Game, then we’ll talk!”

An Fengxuan snapped, “I earned my inventory fair and square—why should I throw it away?”

That line alone made her a target.

Soon after, certain players received new side missions: they could betray their teammates. Kill another player in the same instance, and they’d be guaranteed promotion.

Since this wasn’t a PvP dungeon, nobody had been wary of each other—and the result was a massacre.

An Fengxuan survived only because she never fully trusted anyone.

Just when everyone thought they were doomed, the supermarket appeared.

“Boss Zhou, I’ve never loved you this much in my life!” shouted one player.

Zhou Li: ?

Players tended their wounds, restocked supplies, and huddled together to strategize.

Zhou Li ignored the commotion and turned to An Fengxuan. “You going to keep pushing?”

An Fengxuan thought for a moment, then nodded solemnly. “I’ve come ninety-nine steps. No point giving up on the last one.”

Zhou Li respected her resolve and said no more.

Finally, on the seventh day of her dungeon run—

The system announced the result:

An Fengxuan had cleared the instance.

☢️☢️☢️

Ariel successfully bought all the elemental gems—but it cost her every last bit of funding she had brought.

Her group still carried many magical artifacts, but those were for survival. If she used them all to exchange for supermarket credits, she might not even make it out of the Emerald Wasteland alive.

Worried that someone might try to steal the gems, she didn’t dare return to the Vitus outpost to use its teleportation circle. Instead, she immediately found a quiet corner and began setting up a ritual circle to contact the Elders’ Council.

She reported everything that had happened, including the existence of over twenty thousand elemental gems.

The news shocked the Elders. They unanimously ordered her to transfer all the gems to the Senate at once.

Helpless, Ariel used runestones and several rare magic scrolls to build a temporary teleportation point connected to the Senate’s main teleport hub.

It was only temporary because she lacked the materials for a fixed array. A circle made solely from scrolls and runestones was unstable—by the time the twenty thousand gems arrived, there might only be two thousand left.

Each gem lost was like a knife to Ariel’s accountant’s heart.

And since the temporary circle’s “bandwidth” was limited—meaning it could only handle a small number of items at once—Ariel decided to keep some behind for safekeeping.

Zhou Li and An Fengxuan, curious about how this teleportation array differed from Natisha’s summoning circle, watched closely.

Sure enough, they were very different.

When Natisha transported supplies using shadow creatures, the items sank into the earth—or rather, into the creatures’ shadow realm.

The teleportation array, however, made the object vanish entirely.

Recalling Lamanda’s earlier explanation, Zhou Li guessed that the items weren’t really disappearing, but breaking down into particles too small for the eye to perceive—so quickly it looked like vanishing into thin air.

They also noticed that each time Ariel teleported a cluster of gems, the light on the surrounding runestones dimmed slightly.

When the glow reached a certain faintness, Ariel would promptly replace the runestone.

Luna explained, “That’s because a temporary array’s use depends on the energy stored in its runestones. Teleportation consumes magical energy—if there’s too little, the transfer becomes unstable.”

Zhou Li nodded. “I get it. Like running out of data mid-transfer. The runestones are data packs—if you run out halfway through sending a file, the upload fails.”

Luna: ?

Leaving Ariel to her work, Zhou Li pulled out a stack of books and handed them to Luna. “Here are the instruction manuals for the telephone communication system.”

Luna stared up at the pile—taller than she was. “…This many?”

“Yup. This one’s for the telephone unit. This one’s for the switchboard. This set covers repeater stations and supporting infrastructure, and then these…”

Luna’s head spun just looking at them.

An Fengxuan whispered, “Can they even read what’s written on those?”

Zhou Li said, “Isn’t there a Goddess of Wisdom? Worst case, they can ask the Church of Knowledge for help.”

An Fengxuan: …Does the Goddess of Wisdom know you’re putting this much faith in Her?

Zhou Li laughed, thinking that if needed, she could just pay a bit of energy for the system to translate.

Luckily, that wasn’t necessary. Luna squinted at the pages and said, “This is written in Atmosian. A few typos here and there, and the grammar’s a bit strange—but it’s readable.”

Zhou Li froze.

So it was confirmed—Atmos was basically Great Britain!

“Anyway,” Zhou Li said, “make sure you read carefully. When setting up the network, pay close attention to safety. One wrong move and you’ll be electrocuted.”

Luna grew serious. “We’ll study it thoroughly.”

As for warranties—there were none.

But Zhou Li knew that with how cunning capitalists were, these devices would spread across the entire Atmos Kingdom within a year.

Sure enough, Engineer Kemeigao was already eyeing them greedily.

“So,” Zhou Li asked, “do you want to pick up the equipment now or later?”

“Later,” Luna said. “I need to return and discuss it with the Chairwoman.”

Installing a phone network wasn’t something that could be done overnight. How to route it, who to assign, what preparations to make, how to handle the Radiant Consortium’s cooperation offer—all would require careful planning.

Luna took the manuals and left for camp.

Kemeigao, however, lingered in the supermarket.

After scraping together enough gold coins, he exchanged them for tens of thousands of membership points and asked if the vending machines or refrigerators were for sale.

Zhou Li said, “The vending machines aren’t for sale, and the store units stay here. But if you want new refrigerators, I can arrange that.”

She paused, remembering the power incompatibility issue, and added a warning.

Kemeigao waved it off. “It’s fine. I’ll develop an adapter for the power source.”

He clearly planned to dismantle them for research, not immediate use.

In the end, he ordered one of every refrigerator model available.

*

Night fell.

In the Senate’s camp, Ariel tidied her bedding and prepared to rest—when the mirror inside her tent suddenly glowed.

Realizing it was a communication signal, she immediately sat up.

The moment the connection stabilized, the face of the Third Elder appeared.

“Ariel,” he said.

“Good evening, Elder Kirog. What are your orders?”

Kirog paused for a long time, then spoke gravely. “I need you to do something.”

“I’ve already warded the tent—no one can overhear,” Ariel assured him.

“Good,” said Kirog. “You must bring that shopkeeper under control.”

Ariel froze.

He continued, “We believe she controls at least one elemental mine. Only by controlling her can we secure a steady source of gems.”

Ariel understood that all too well—but she wasn’t blinded by greed.

“Elder, allow me to remind you of prior intelligence. The Arka Company once sent dozens of thieves under Ebus’s command to attack her. They failed. Over ten died—instantly, the moment they struck. That suggests her power rivals that of an Archmage.”

She thought bitterly that these pampered nobles had grown too complacent. Whenever they wanted something, they bought it; whenever they caused trouble, mages, paladins, and priests fixed it for them. They’d forgotten how terrifying true high-level magic could be.

Though she often clashed with Kemeigao, she still retained judgment—she knew if the Senate’s Elders came in person, they’d likely use threats to prevent Kemeigao from getting what he wanted.

But as for Zhou Li—provoking her would be stupidity beyond measure.

Kirog said, “I’ve already persuaded Archmage Jackalin to visit personally.”

Ariel’s breath caught. Even the Archmage was being sent? Clearly, these gems had touched the nobles’ deepest interests.

*

Meanwhile, in the Thorn Consortium camp, Luna was reporting to the Chairwoman.

The Consortium, originally the Adventurer’s Guild, had retained its old title—its leader was still called “Chairwoman.” Her official position now was Chief President of the Thorn Management Council.

Luna relayed everything that happened that day—the deals, the tensions, the other factions.

The Chairwoman frowned. “So the Senate bought all the gems?”

“Yes,” Luna admitted.

“Why didn’t you purchase any? We may avoid direct conflict with the Senate, but that doesn’t mean we should fear them.”

The Thorn Consortium accepted both industrial and magical technology. They had not abandoned the old gods, nor rejected new machines—they drew strength from both sides.

“For example,” Luna explained, “to protect the repeater stations for our phone lines, we’ll need to fortify them magically. For that, we’ll require elemental gems and magical constructs.”

“Then why didn’t you buy them?”

Luna said, “Because in today’s tense atmosphere, avoiding offense is the wiser path. If we had fought the Senate for those gems, Ariel would have done everything to sabotage us. And besides…” she smiled slightly, “I believe the store still has more. Our telephone network hasn’t even begun construction—we can always buy more next time.”

The Chairwoman asked, “And your reasoning?”

“The shopkeeper’s attitude. She was far too relaxed. She didn’t even bother categorizing the gems—just dumped them on the shelves as-is. That means she has plenty more. When someone has an endless supply, they don’t treat it like treasure.”

The Chairwoman nodded slowly. “A good analysis. But remember—if you can see that, so can the Senate and the Radiant Consortium.”

“You think they’ll try to take the shop by force?”

“Greed drives all hearts, Luna. Never underestimate it.”

“But I have faith in the shopkeeper. Lamanda spoke highly of her—I believe she has her own protections.”

After a thoughtful pause, the Chairwoman said, “If necessary, make peace. If she can withstand them, befriending her would benefit us greatly.”

“That’s a wise call, Chairwoman.”

*

At the supermarket, third floor.

Before bed, Zhou Li glanced at the surveillance feed and sighed. “These Radiant Consortium folks really know how to exploit loopholes.”

The Thorn Consortium and the Senate had set up camps some distance away—but Kemeigao and his crew? They’d set up right outside her door.

They’d noticed that the area around the supermarket was free from shadow creatures.

The Atmos people despised magic and refused to use magical devices to repel them, but bullets were costly—and shadow creatures ate ammo fast.

To save ammunition, they just clustered in front of the store to rest.

The only problem: their vehicles couldn’t enter that safe zone.

By morning, one of Kemeigao’s officers reported a missing trike.

At first, they suspected Zhou Li.

But Kemeigao said, “Someone who can build such advanced technology wouldn’t need to steal. Don’t forget—we’re in the Emerald Wasteland. Thieves and shadow mages roam everywhere.”

To spirit away a whole trike silently—it had to be a shadow mage’s work.

The officer cursed and ranted about how shadow mages were sneaky cowards who’d never dare face them in a real fight.

*

By the next day, Zhou Li was preparing to depart for another world. She told Luna and Kemeigao—who had preordered goods—that she’d be gone for about twenty days.

They assumed she meant she was simply closing the shop for a break, so neither took it seriously.

But later that night, as the Radiant Consortium men slept outside her door—

They awoke to find the supermarket was gone.

And with it, the protective barrier vanished too.

☢️☢️☢️

The next morning, as soon as Zhou Li opened the supermarket door, she found three groups gathered outside.

Each group bore a different banner, and they were clearly divided into camps.

The Thorn Independent Consortium stood in the center, while the other two faced them tensely, as if one spark could set off a fight.

After some introductions, Zhou Li learned that the woman surrounded by knights, rangers, and soldiers—and dressed in heavy religious garb—was Ariel, Secretary General of the Senate.

The man on the other side, escorted by an armed unit wielding firearms and riding roaring steam-powered trikes, was Kemeigao, an engineer from Peace Industries, a subsidiary of the Radiant Consortium.

Zhou Li chuckled. “All we’re missing is Ebus—then the Trade Alliance could sit down for a nice game of mahjong.”

An Fengxuan added dryly, “He probably doesn’t have the guts to come back.”

An idea struck Zhou Li. Maybe she should order a few mahjong tables through the auction hub.

Who knew—they might even sell!

Her amusement was a little too obvious, and Luna said mildly, “My lady boss, they most likely won’t actually fight.”

Zhou Li laughed awkwardly. “That’s good. Harmony brings fortune.”

Kemeigao dismounted from his trike and looked up at the vending machines beside the supermarket door, his eyes bulging. “By the Steam God—how in the world were these made!?”

Zhou Li turned to Luna and asked casually, “There’s actually a Steam God in this world?”

Ariel snapped, “False gods! Every one of them is a fraud!”

Luna leaned in and whispered, “Among those who still hold faith in Atmos, it’s said that every great invention comes from divine grace—railways and trains are blessings of the Rail God, electric lamps are gifts of the Lamp God…”

Zhou Li: …

Got it. So just like in capitalist societies—if it makes a profit, it doesn’t matter if you hold a rifle in one hand and a cross in the other.

Luna then gestured subtly toward the gun-wielding mercenaries. “Those men are graduates of the War Academy—followers of the War God.”

An Fengxuan tilted her head. “The same War God who got beaten by the Goddess of War and the Goddess of Wisdom, then ran off to Atmos with his tail between his legs?”

That drew sharp glares from the mercenaries. One of them, clearly a sergeant, barked, “The last few campaigns have already proven your so-called Goddess of War is the useless one!”

“What did you say!? Blasphemy!” Ariel’s knights and rangers erupted, hands going to their weapons.

It looked like a battle could break out any second.

Zhou Li calmly turned away from the commotion and asked Luna, “So, after sleeping on it, have you decided what you’re buying today?”

Luna didn’t really want to expose her plans in front of competitors—but Zhou Li would be leaving this plane in a few days, and there was no time to stall.

She said, “Everything else is abundant, but telephones and related systems are limited. The earlier you buy, the earlier you enjoy them.”

“Telephone? Not a telegraph?” Kemeigao, ever alert to industrial innovations, perked up immediately.

Luna didn’t care about secrecy anymore. “We arrived first, my lady boss. Please reserve the telephones for us.”

Kemeigao ignored her. “In commerce, it’s always the highest bidder who wins. Whatever this ‘telephone’ is, we’ll pay more.”

Ariel, still fuming from earlier insults, didn’t even care what a telephone was—she joined in just to spite Kemeigao.

The Thorn manager murmured under his breath, “Luna, you’re being too hasty.”

“It’s fine,” Luna replied. “We still have the advantage.”

She quickly analyzed the situation in her head:

The supermarket’s technological goods far surpassed Atmos’s industrial level, which meant Kemeigao couldn’t use industrial products to exchange for supermarket credits.

The telephone must be expensive—and without sufficient credits, Kemeigao was at a disadvantage compared to the Consortium.

As for Ariel, she was only here to stir trouble for the steam faction. There was no way she’d actually spend a fortune on telephones.

Besides, telephones required line installation. The Senate used industrial tech only in secret—laying phone lines openly in Mayelia would be tantamount to admitting betrayal of their country’s anti-tech stance.

And sure enough, once Zhou Li explained the store’s rules and how telephones worked, Kemeigao’s excitement dimmed into worry—he had no idea what valuable goods he could trade for store credits.

Ariel, on the other hand, did have valuable items—magic scrolls, enchanted artifacts—but telephones were practically useless to Mayelian nobles who could already communicate instantly with magic.

Kemeigao asked, “Would you be willing to sell the technology behind this invention?”

If he could obtain the schematics, his company could replicate the product easily.

Zhou Li said, “The patent isn’t mine. I only sell the devices themselves.”

Luna frowned slightly. “Then what happens if we can’t install or maintain them ourselves?”

“Oh, the instruction manuals are included,” Zhou Li said casually.

Kemeigao’s small eyes gleamed. No matter what, he had to buy at least one phone to take apart and study.

He thought for a moment and said, “Our Radiant Consortium operates several mines. We have rich mineral resources—and many weapons. We can sell either ore or arms in exchange.”

Zhou Li hesitated, tempted.

Weapons couldn’t be purchased through the auction hub—after she and the supermarket left Newborn Island, her people there would be left defenseless.

If she bought some weapons here…

But then she reconsidered. If she needed weapons, she could easily get them in the zombie world instead.

And now that few factions dared provoke Newborn Island, Qi Jiayu and the others could always buy what they needed from Xu Jiayi’s people.

As for minerals…

Would this world’s ores even be valuable in the auction hub’s plane-world?

If it was coal, that would certainly sell well—her home country consumed vast amounts of it.

But then again, coal was in high demand here too, given that Atmos was in the middle of the steam age.

So Zhou Li said, “I’ve seen weapons far more advanced than yours, so I’ll pass on those. As for minerals, I can’t determine their worth until you bring samples for testing.”

Kemeigao and his mercenaries stared, wide-eyed.

More advanced weapons?

But the world’s top weapon designers were all from the War Academy! They carried the latest rifles and rode cutting-edge steam trikes—powered by newly improved engines!

Could there really be industrial technology even beyond that?

The proud mercenaries thought Zhou Li was bragging, but Kemeigao actually believed her.

He’d already seen the vending machines—and that refrigerator capable of producing real cold air.

Kemeigao wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of refrigeration.

Years ago, engineers had created iceboxes powered by steam engines using ammonia as the coolant.

But those machines were huge and deafeningly loud when running.

Nothing like the sleek, quiet models in this shop—compact, stylish, and with far more storage space inside!

Kemeigao also spotted a strange device in the corner that blew out cool air. It wasn’t a refrigerator or a standard cooling unit.

He gasped, “By my God of Technology—these are revolutionary, world-changing inventions!”

Zhou Li: …

Didn’t he just swear by the Steam God a moment ago? How did he make up a God of Technology on the spot?

Every time Kemeigao exclaimed over one of her products, Ariel countered with a magical equivalent. “Refrigerator? Ice mages can conjure a pile of ice with one spell. Cooling? Mages can cast room sigils that regulate temperature automatically.”

An Fengxuan whispered to Zhou Li, “She’s a chronic nitpicker.”

Zhou Li sighed. “…That’s what happens when natural enemies meet.”

Kemeigao snapped back, “If you’re so capable, then don’t bid.”

Ariel huffed, “Even if I don’t need it, I won’t let you have it.”

While the two bickered, Luna quietly motioned for her manager to bring out the Thorn Consortium’s prepared treasures for appraisal.

Zhou Li examined each item in turn, once again expanding her understanding of magical craftsmanship.

Up until now, all her trade partners—Rebecca, Lamanda, Natisha—had come from the magic faction. Because Rebecca had first used alchemy potions to exchange for supermarket credits, Lamanda and Natisha followed suit, assuming potions were most valuable.

As a result, Zhou Li had only ever seen airships in this world—never other types of magical creations.

Now Luna revealed a dazzling collection: Magic Thread, used for weaving enchanted robes; Adamantite, a metal that could forge unbreakable weapons, armor, and vessels; Runestones, engraved with mystical sigils to assist in rituals; and Enchantment Tomes, which could imbue objects with special attributes.

Zhou Li blinked. “…Runestones? Why do they look a lot like elemental gems?”

Ariel jumped in proudly. “Because they’re made from elemental gems.”

Luna nodded. “Elemental gems are merely stones containing raw magical essence. To ordinary folk, they’re just pretty rocks—they can’t use them directly. So alchemists refine them into philosopher’s stones or cauldrons; inscriptionists carve sigils to create usable runestones; and mages extract the essence to make magic thread, scrolls, or enchantment tomes.”

Zhou Li felt enlightened again.

She listed the items on the auction network. Everything except the runestones sold—since without the right ritual knowledge or spells, runestones were useless.

“The total comes to 33.08 million points,” Zhou Li announced.

Luna asked eagerly, “Is that enough to buy the telephone system?”

“More than enough,” Zhou Li replied. “You could buy several complete sets.”

Each telephone communication system included telephones, switchboards, patch panels, cables, carrier systems, and repeaters.

The auction hub sold them as bundles—around eight million points per set.

“…With enough switchboards and repeaters,” Zhou Li explained, “the network range reaches roughly two hundred kilometers. Without them, communication drops to just a few.”

Luna quickly did the math. Four full systems could connect the entire Emerald Wasteland—creating instant communication across their trade routes!

Then she could build a railway through the region, sketching new trade lines like the bones of a great fish across the land.

Just as she prepared to buy all four systems at once, Kemeigao panicked. “I’ll buy too! I can trade my Sunset Ranch—over a thousand cattle, three thousand sheep, a hundred horses, and seventy slaves!”

Zhou Li: ?

Luna shot Kemeigao a withering look, as if scolding him for being utterly tactless.

Zhou Li said flatly, “Sorry, I don’t deal in ranches—unless you bring the cattle, sheep, and horses here to sell.”

Luna’s eyes lit up.

Kemeigao frowned. “You don’t want the ranch? Then what about Segusburg Manor? It produces premium spices—tons of it every year.”

“Also no.”

Ariel burst out laughing at Kemeigao’s failed attempt.

Kemeigao glared at her, then turned to Luna. “Fine. I’ll sell the ranch to the Thorn Consortium—you sell us the telephone system in return.”

Ariel’s expression turned cold. If Luna dared agree, the Senate would immediately blacklist the Consortium.

Sensing the tension, Luna smiled pleasantly. “Let’s wait until I’ve secured the telephone systems—then we can discuss partnership terms.”

Once the phones were in her hands, after all, she could decide whether to sell them, and at what price.

Ariel sneered, “Don’t forget the Senate is still here.”

Luna, unfazed, said, “I thought Your Excellency would be more interested in the elemental gems.”

Ariel faltered.

Luna continued sweetly, “And they aren’t exactly cheap.”

Ariel turned to Zhou Li. “How many elemental gems do you have?”

Zhou Li thought, A whole ship’s worth.

Last night, she and An Fengxuan had tried to break down the large gem clusters—but they were fused too tightly.

So she simply tossed the entire clusters into her warehouse and let the system scan and price them as-is.

In other words, they couldn’t be bought individually anymore—only in massive bundles.

Zhou Li pointed toward the vending machine. “You can check the vending machines yourself.”

“So that’s what it’s called—a vending machine!” Kemeigao exclaimed, fascinated as ever by the least relevant detail.

Ariel ignored him and went to check the machine.

Moments later, her composure cracked. “By all the gods—did you move the entire Elemental Storm Canyon here!?”

Zhou Li shrugged. “This little pile of gems counts as that? I heard the canyon’s yield isn’t even that high.”

There was still an entire seabed full of the stuff back in the zombie world—enough to mine for a century.

If the magic factions ever learned that, wouldn’t they start planning a mass migration to the zombie world?

Ariel’s words stuck in her throat.

She was furious, disheartened, and utterly confused.

How could something that took them so much effort and risk to mine be this abundant here—almost cheap?

And Rebecca had reported before that she’d bought nearly all of the supermarket’s elemental gems, leaving only about a hundred.

So where had these twenty thousand more come from!?

To buy them all would cost over ten million points.

But Ariel hadn’t come prepared for such large-scale trade—she hadn’t brought enough valuables. Even if she could afford the gems, she wouldn’t have enough left to compete with Luna or Kemeigao afterward.

Still, compared to those two, the gems were far more important.

With a grim look, Ariel unfastened her pack and began pulling out magical artifacts as if they were free candy.

☢️☢️☢️

Zhou Li fell silent.

Were all capitalists this blunt and heavy-handed?

See something profitable, and instead of cooperation, they just want to take the whole plate.

The difference was in packaging. The Arka Company didn’t bother hiding its greed or ruthlessness—it took what it wanted, and if it couldn’t have it, it destroyed it.

The Thorn Independent Consortium, on the other hand, dressed its ambitions in a civilized disguise—“acquisition.”

Still, Zhou Li wasn’t angry.

Acquisition was, after all, a common and legitimate business tactic.

Take her family’s old plan for example—when they had considered expanding into large-scale supermarkets, creating a new brand from scratch would’ve been the least cost-effective route. Buying out existing, well-known supermarkets was the smarter, faster move.

In other words, if she hadn’t bound herself to the system and opened cross-plane trade, her own family might have ended up buying out someone else’s stores too.

But still… shouldn’t they at least investigate before trying to buy?

For the Consortium to walk up and immediately ask if she’d sell her store—it was either arrogance or foolish abundance of cash.

“You want to buy this supermarket?” Zhou Li confirmed with Luna. “Not just purchase the items I sell?”

“More precisely,” Luna said smoothly, “we’d like to buy your establishment and the entire production chain behind it.”

Zhou Li whistled softly. “Ambitious, aren’t you?”

“It seems,” Luna said with a faint sigh, “that you have no such intentions.”

“Indeed, I don’t,” Zhou Li replied plainly.

Luna nodded and didn’t press further.

She knew the Emerald Wasteland wasn’t a place for weaklings. The fact that Zhou Li didn’t even ask for a price meant she truly had no intention to sell—implying she herself was powerful, or backed by powerful nobles.

Against that kind of strength, even the Thorn Consortium seemed small.

Then someone shouted, “Miss Luna! The blood hawk is back!”

The camp stirred for a moment before Luna raised a hand, calming her people.

She looked up at the great bird circling overhead and asked Zhou Li, “So this blood hawk is yours, then?”

Zhou Li suddenly understood how they’d found her. “No,” she said, shaking her head, but offered no further explanation.

Luna didn’t say whether she believed it or not, but since the hawk hadn’t attacked, she decided not to either.

A short while later, Lamanda and An Fengxuan rode back on horseback.

Seeing the Thorn banner, Lamanda visibly relaxed.

She dismounted and came straight to Zhou Li. “The blood hawk told me a group had appeared here. I was worried and came to see if you needed help.”

She doubted Zhou Li needed any, but concern was one thing—showing it was another.

Sure enough, Zhou Li’s smile warmed. “Thank you.”

Then Luna stepped forward. “Excuse me—are you Alchemist Master Lamanda?”

Lamanda didn’t hide it. “I am.”

“Truly? It’s an honor! I’m Luna, of the Thorn Independent Consortium.”

Lamanda had never dealt with Luna directly, but she knew of her—Luna was a well-known figure within the Consortium.

“Oh, it’s you,” Lamanda said with a laugh. “If you’re leading the convoy yourself, you must have your eyes on quite the prize.”

Then, as if realizing something, she chuckled. “Don’t tell me it’s the supermarket? Then you’d best change your plan.”

Luna admitted openly, “Yes. The shopkeeper already turned down my offer.”

After greeting Luna, Lamanda turned to Zhou Li. “My lady boss, I know the Arka Company once angered you, and the Thorn Consortium’s arrival may bring back unpleasant memories—but I can vouch for them. Their business dealings are far more honorable than Arka’s.”

Zhou Li thought Lamanda had good social sense—knowing to speak up for Luna in front of her.

She asked, “You’re close with the Consortium?”

“Not close,” Lamanda said. “Just business. I need a great deal of alchemical herbs and materials, and they have a collection division that provides them. The Consortium, traveling through the dangerous Wasteland, also needs alchemical potions to survive.”

She added, “I imagine the Senate and the Radiant Consortium have also heard the news—they’ll be coming before long.”

“What are those?” Zhou Li asked.

Lamanda explained, “Trade-Alliance conglomerates. The Arka Company and Radiant Consortium are both based in Atmos, while the Senate is a commercial organization secretly controlled by the nobles and landlords of Mayelia.”

Zhou Li inferred, “Then the Thorn Consortium must be neutral?”

Luna smiled. “Exactly. We’re the Thorn Independent Consortium, not the Thorn Syndicate.”

Zhou Li said, “Atmos and Mayelia are at each other’s throats—neutral parties must find themselves unwelcome on both sides. Your operational range must be quite limited.”

Luna: …

True, but—ouch.

She sighed. “That’s precisely why we wanted to buy your store.”

Zhou Li noticed the subtle change in Luna’s tone, guessing Luna had misread Lamanda’s friendly attitude as something deeper.

Lamanda chuckled. “The Thorn Consortium began as the Adventurer’s Guild. When the Waning Era came and adventurers grew scarce, the guild restructured into the Thorn Company.

“As the conflict between Atmos and Mayelia intensified, the now-prosperous Thorn Company rebranded itself as the Thorn Independent Consortium to assert neutrality.

“The Consortium still keeps a touch of its adventurer spirit—venturing deep into the Emerald Wasteland to gather alchemical ingredients, mining resources for Atmos’s industries, and traveling to remote, impoverished villages to bring affordable goods to those forgotten by the upper class.”

Lamanda’s words were half test, half flattery.

If Zhou Li were truly backed by aristocrats or magnates, that last line would’ve offended her.

Luckily, Zhou Li showed no reaction.

In fact, she said, “Then you’re welcome to source goods from me.”

Luna laughed lightly, like silver bells. “Your merchandise truly is excellent and affordable.”

Even if they couldn’t buy her store, purchasing industrial products here for resale elsewhere was a solid business plan.

As night fell, Luna decided not to push negotiations further and ordered her convoy to make camp.

Lamanda, needing to guard her construction materials from shadow creatures, rode back on her horse.

An Fengxuan, however, stayed behind.

Meeting Zhou Li’s gaze, she said, “Lamanda told me only priests can use spiritual-soothing spells, so she can’t teach me. But I traded my [Elementary School Backpack] with her for some [Mind-Healing Potions].”

“No wonder you’re not carrying your backpack,” Zhou Li said.

“Storage items aren’t hard to come by.”

An Fengxuan pulled out a slim satchel. “This is the [Intern’s Briefcase]. It holds a ton too.”

Zhou Li blinked. “…Do they make handbags?”

She recalled that online joke about men boasting they could deadlift hundreds of pounds but struggling to lift their girlfriend’s handbag.

Given The Game’s sense of humor—with items like [Straight Man’s Pocket], [Elementary School Backpack], and [Intern’s Briefcase]—it only made sense there’d be a [Handbag].

An Fengxuan hesitated, then muttered, “…There is.”

*

That night, in the distant Thorn camp, Luna was meeting with her convoy manager.

“It’s a shame to abandon the acquisition plan,” the manager said.

“Lamanda already warned us,” Luna replied. “Opposing that woman’s shop would end badly.”

Even the Arka Company hadn’t gained anything here. Showing goodwill was their best approach.

“I understand,” the manager said, “I’m just… disappointed.”

“Even if we can’t buy the store,” Luna said, “we can still establish a base nearby—expand a few trade routes.”

She paused, then added, “The chairwoman’s proposal to build a railway through the Emerald Wasteland might not be impossible after all.”

Ever since Atmos had expanded its railway network, Thorn’s executives had seen firsthand how efficient trains were. If they could build one through the Wasteland, their growth would skyrocket.

But the obstacles were enormous—construction was dangerous, maintenance constant, and costs astronomical.

They could lay a track one day, only for shadow beasts to tear it up that same night.

If the Emerald Wasteland were truly safe, it wouldn’t be a lawless zone.

Luna said, “With enough elemental stones, we could reinforce the rails using spell arrays—keep beasts from damaging them. Then install a telephone network along the route, with stations for alerts.”

The hardest part of opening new trade routes wasn’t distance—it was maintaining them.

If a route went down and the caravans couldn’t be warned quickly, the losses could be catastrophic.

That’s why most caravans stuck to old, well-worn roads, even if it meant detours.

But with telephones, they could achieve instant communication without magic.

If Station A was attacked, Station B would know immediately—dispatching adventurers to help while warning caravans to reroute.

Hearing Luna’s plan, the manager’s eyes lit up. “Then we must secure those telephones!”

At that same moment, a small airship carrying the Senate’s secretary general was docking at Vitus Outpost.

And in the distant town of Nightingale, the thunder of steam engines announced the arrival of the Radiant Consortium’s engineers.

☢️☢️☢️

On the second day after the little supermarket returned to the Emerald Wasteland, Zhou Li had already prepared all the wood and stone Lamanda needed to build her house, neatly stacked in the clearing out front.

Lamanda gasped. “My lady boss—did you use a teleportation array? The kind of array that could transport this much material must be a masterpiece!”

Zhou Li didn’t understand why Lamanda was so shocked. Natisha used teleportation circles to move goods all the time; she’d thought such arrays were as common as delivery stations.

Come to think of it, if this world had teleportation magic, why was the transportation industry still so developed?

The steam faction made sense, but even the magic faction relied on airships and mounts. It didn’t quite add up.

True to her inquisitive nature, Zhou Li asked, “So… why don’t you just use teleportation arrays for transport?”

Lamanda was briefly speechless.

Was it that they didn’t want to? No—it was that they couldn’t!

She had originally assumed the shopkeeper was some great archmage. What kind of archmage would ask such a question!?

Finally, Lamanda explained, “Even during the Age of Magic before the Waning Era, teleportation arrays were never easy to build…”

The formulas were extraordinarily complex and required immense magical power just to study. Without divine “Enlightenment,” most scholars would lose themselves in the forbidden sea of knowledge.

“Enlightenment” was a divine blessing. It protected the mind from corruption when approaching forbidden truths—keeping one from falling into madness.

So only mages could learn teleportation formulas, and only mages could construct the arrays.

After the Waning Era began, fewer and fewer mages could sense divine blessings. Most could only make small teleportation circles. Only the most powerful, enlightened archmages could build large ones.

Constructing a teleportation array was the hardest part—but once the channel was stable, anyone who knew the activation rite could use it.

That said, teleportation couldn’t move just anything.

It didn’t physically relocate matter—it deconstructed the object, transmitted its essence through an elemental energy field, and reassembled it at the destination.

That process required an incredibly stable energy field.

The larger the array, the more magic energy it needed.

When elemental energy was too scarce, or the field unstable, teleportation could fail—often catastrophically.

“Once,” Lamanda said grimly, “someone tried it out of curiosity… and ended up as a puddle of flesh.”

An Fengxuan cut in, “So does that mean Natisha’s an archmage?”

At the mention of her student, Lamanda sighed. “No. Not yet.”

“But she can draw arrays on the fly and summon shadow creatures.”

“That’s because,” Lamanda corrected, “what she draws aren’t teleportation arrays—they’re summoning circles.”

Teleportation arrays required elemental gemstones or divine relics to sustain a stable energy field.
Summoning circles didn’t.

Those were unique to shadow mages. The Goddess of the Nethermoon had granted them knowledge and power to commune with shadow beings.

These entities existed in their own realm, and summoning circles acted as gateways for them to cross through.

When Natisha “transported” materials, she was actually using shadow creatures as living conveyors—carrying goods between locations.

Of course, this method had its risks; sometimes, shadow beings simply devoured the cargo.

To prevent that, one had to “feed” them first—so they’d lose interest in the goods being transferred.

Zhou Li didn’t fully understand all the magical theory, but she grasped one point clearly: “So Natisha’s a genius, huh?”

Lamanda nodded. “She is—but she lacks restraint. Using summoning circles too often drains her deeply.”

“Maybe that’s why she needed so many shadow-elemental stones,” Zhou Li said.

Lamanda sighed. She couldn’t stop Natisha.

The girl was an adult now, with her own convictions. A teacher could worry—but not interfere.

Zhou Li steered the conversation back. “So, how are you going to move all this stuff?”

“I’ve found some help,” Lamanda said, pulling out a flute.

She played a series of rolling notes.

Moments later, something appeared in the sky—a massive bird resembling an eagle, but twice as large.

It circled overhead before descending.

Lamanda approached, fed it a vial of alchemical potion, and gestured at the piles of timber and stone.

The bird screeched, gripped a log in its talons, and spread wings over two meters long before taking flight.

Its speed was astonishing; the heavy beam looked like a toy in its claws.

An Fengxuan asked, “Is that your mount?”

“Of course not,” Lamanda said. “That’s a blood hawk. Wild and untamable—it never lets anyone ride it. Its wings and claws are so strong that it can carry objects over ten times its own weight for hours!”

An Fengxuan thought, If I could catch one of those as a pet, what monster would I ever fear again?

But more than a pet, what she really wanted… was to learn magic.

With that thought, she returned to the supermarket and asked Zhou Li, “Boss, can I go help Lamanda?”

Zhou Li asked, “Have you really thought this through?”

“Yes. I can protect myself.”

Every time Zhou Li sent her back to the Infinite World, An Yixiao gave her new tools—but here in the supermarket, she’d never needed them.

Zhou Li didn’t ask why she was so eager to help Lamanda. “If you’ve decided, then I’ll give you half a day off.”

“Thank you, boss!”

An Fengxuan joined Lamanda outside, chatted briefly, then pulled out her Elementary School Backpack and began loading it with stone.

Zhou Li could hear Lamanda’s amazed exclamations all the way from inside.

When the two of them left on horseback, Zhou Li asked the system, “Since you can track staff locations, can you also monitor their safety?”

“Yes,” the system said. “But once outside the protective range, I can’t guarantee physical safety.” It hesitated. “You’re really letting her go that far?”

Previously, An Fengxuan had never strayed more than a hundred meters beyond the perimeter.

Lamanda’s site, however, was several kilometers away.

Zhou Li replied, “If I don’t let her go, how can she truly learn about magic?”

She already guessed An Fengxuan’s intention—either to study magic or alchemy.

Once mastered, magic could still be used in the Infinite World—as long as she had enough elemental stones.

As for alchemical potions, they worked across dimensions just like game items.

Carrying healing potions was like carrying recovery tools—but since they weren’t products of The Game, they might not count toward her item limit.

Besides, Zhou Li reasoned, if there was a Wisdom Potion that improved focus and learning, maybe there were also potions that could heal the mind.

The Infinite World’s “contamination” was spiritual in nature—could alchemy potions reduce its effects?

She didn’t know if the theory was valid, but it was worth trying.

…

With An Fengxuan and the blood hawk’s help, Lamanda quickly finished transporting the materials.

Just as Zhou Li thought things might quiet down again, a caravan arrived at sunset.

Seeing the flag’s emblem, Zhou Li read it aloud: “…Thorn Independent Consortium?”

Another company like Arka, perhaps?

She wasn’t afraid of corporations like that, but the thought of wasting time on negotiations made her tired already.

Yet when the caravan drew close, she noticed the wagons were pulled by exotic beasts—not steam-powered vehicles.

That meant they likely weren’t aligned with the steam faction—or at least, not entirely.

A woman at the head of the convoy paused outside, then stepped into the supermarket. “Excuse me, do you sell elemental stones here?”

Zhou Li explained the membership rules as usual.

The woman smiled. “We’ve heard about your rules already.”

Instead of buying a membership, she asked, “Besides elemental stones, do you have any… hidden items?”

“Hidden items?” Zhou Li thought for a moment, then grinned. “Of course. Ever heard of a telephone?”

“A telephone?” The woman’s curiosity was instantly piqued.

Zhou Li took out an early-model telephone she’d purchased from the auction hub. “No magic, no spells. Once you set up the phone network, you can talk over great distances instantly.”

The woman asked, “How is it different from a telegraph?”

“Sending a regular telegram takes hours to arrive, and it’s one-way. A telephone lets you talk in real time, with almost no delay.”

The woman was astonished—not at the instant communication, since spellcasters could already manage that—but at the fact that the device required no magic at all.

“This is… a technological product?” she asked.

“Yes,” Zhou Li said.

The woman smiled wider. “A store that sells both elemental gemstones and industrial goods—now that’s my kind of place.”

She introduced herself: “Forgive me, I forgot to give my name. I’m Luna, a mergers and acquisitions specialist from the Thorn Independent Consortium. Would you consider selling this shop?”

☢️☢️☢️

Lamanda decided to conduct trials for new alchemical potions in the Emerald Wasteland.

That meant she would have to live in this dangerous region teeming with shadow creatures.

Fortunately, she was an alchemist—and had plenty of means to protect herself.

“…Alchemists have spells that repel shadow beings. That’s what allows us to walk safely at night,” Lamanda explained to Zhou Li, who was brimming with curiosity.

Zhou Li suddenly understood. “No wonder you could reach here so easily after dark.”

An Fengxuan glanced at Natisha. “So alchemists counter shadow mages, huh? No wonder you’re her teacher.”

Natisha pouted slightly, clearly disagreeing but too lazy to argue.

Lamanda laughed. “Not quite. Natisha used to be my apprentice—she studied alchemy under me.”

Alchemy was a branch of knowledge; anyone recognized by the Goddess of Wisdom could learn it.

However, because many secret alchemical formulas were held by members of the Alchemy Guild—and those alchemists were unwilling to teach followers of other gods—most people assumed only alchemists could practice alchemy.

Natisha had once been an exceptionally gifted apprentice, until something happened that drove her to leave the Guild and devote herself to the Goddess of the Underworld Moon.

Neither Zhou Li nor An Fengxuan pried into her past.

Zhou Li asked Lamanda, “Where do you plan to live?”

Lamanda said, “This area seems suitable. But I’ll need to build a small house. Do you sell wood and stone here?”

The supermarket didn’t—but she could order them through the auction hub.

Lamanda purchased a batch of timber and stone, then left with her newly bought elemental gemstones.

Seeing that Natisha hadn’t gone, Zhou Li asked, “And what about you? Need anything?”

Natisha’s eyes gleamed. “Shadow-elemental gemstones.”

Without hesitation, Zhou Li took out all the deep-purple sea fluorite.

Natisha said, “I thought you wouldn’t sell them to me.”

These shadow-elemental stones would be enough to sustain her cultivation until she reached the rank of Grand Shadow Mage.

The stronger she became, the more control she would hold over this region.

Did the shopkeeper not worry she might break through the energy field surrounding the supermarket?

Zhou Li looked puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I sell them? I’m running a business—why would I refuse a chance to make money?”

Natisha’s lips curved. “You have principles.”

Zhou Li thought privately: not really.
Her “principles” fluctuated with her mood—and she was definitely guilty of double standards sometimes.

Natisha bought every shadow gemstone, then went on a spree at the vending machines.

When Zhou Li checked the backend logs, she saw that Natisha alone had purchased over a hundred boxes of instant noodles, more than a hundred cans of luncheon meat, and two hundred cases of bottled cola.

Zhou Li: …
Was she planning to live on instant noodles and soda three meals a day?

Just as Zhou Li wondered whether Natisha would summon her undead bandit minions again to help carry everything, Natisha raised her staff and drew a magic circle. Then she placed a can of cola in its center.

A flash of dark light—and an undead creature clawed its way out of the ground. It picked up the cola, bones creaking as its jaw clicked.

Zhou Li: ?
…Don’t tell her the undead liked drinking cola.

Natisha repeated the spell, summoning several more undead.

The creatures carried the goods into the circle and, within moments, sank back underground with all of it.

Catching Zhou Li’s look, Natisha explained, “At night, the undead and spirits are more active—the chance of summoning them successfully is higher. These ones aren’t bound by contracts, so they require offerings.”

Zhou Li understood now. During the day, the undead hadn’t wanted to respond, but those bandits she’d summoned earlier were her slaves—they required no sacrifice to appear.

“Thanks for satisfying my curiosity,” Zhou Li said.

“You’re welcome, my lady boss. Farewell.”

Natisha’s figure was quickly swallowed by the black mist.

When it finally dispersed, only the whisper of wind remained.

It took a long while before the prairie animals dared to emerge again.

Zhou Li closed the supermarket and prepared to head upstairs for some rest.

An Fengxuan called after her. “Boss, may I ask—does this world have any connection to the one where the zombie virus broke out?”

She’d wanted to ask for a long time. Why did the elemental stones from this world appear in the zombie world?

Was there a link between the virus and this realm?

Zhou Li asked, “Why do you want to know? Do you think understanding the connection might reveal something about your world’s truth?”

An Fengxuan met her eyes, then nodded solemnly. “Yes. If I can understand how these worlds are related, maybe I can find a way to save the Infinite World players.”

Zhou Li said, “Unfortunately, I don’t know the answer.”

An Fengxuan looked disappointed—but quickly regained her resolve. “That’s okay. I’ll find the answer eventually. Thank you, boss.”

Zhou Li hadn’t lied—she really didn’t know.

But privately, she’d already asked the system, “Is it possible that this world and the zombie world somehow fused? Maybe the magic elements from this realm leaked into that one, which is why magic here is disappearing—and why sea fluorite started forming under the zombie world’s oceans.

“Sure, the Age of Waning Magic began hundreds of years ago, and the zombie virus outbreak only happened five years back. They seem unrelated—but what if the virus had existed long before, just waiting for a trigger? Maybe a lab leak, or melting glaciers releasing it into the air… that’s how movies usually go.”

The system replied, “An interesting hypothesis. But whether it’s correct—you’ll have to verify it yourself.”

Zhou Li was used to that vague attitude. She muttered, “Even if the worlds did merge, where did the zombie virus come from? This world doesn’t seem to have one.

“Wait—it may not have a zombie virus, but it does have undead, spirits, and death knights. And they say death knights spread plague… maybe the virus is just another kind of plague.”

She had never seen a death knight, so she couldn’t be sure.

“Actually,” Zhou Li said to the system, “I got the idea from the Infinite World realm. The Game that invaded that world seems to suppress its world consciousness—like one plane’s will invading another’s, the stronger foreign entity devouring the native one.”

She suspected that because the Infinite World’s “dungeons” were modeled after real worlds—and since that “real world” wasn’t the one An Fengxuan came from, it must be another.

Perhaps Anyi Xiao had already noticed the same clues and was trying to find a way to drive the Game out.

But she probably didn’t realize this was a conflict at the plane-consciousness level.

That wasn’t something human effort could easily change.

“Could the disasters that suddenly struck the Interstellar Realm also be due to fusion with some unknown world?” Zhou Li wondered aloud.

As for the Ancient Realm, she hadn’t noticed anything abnormal yet—its plagues and famines seemed natural for that historical period.

Zhou Li didn’t think further on it.

These answers weren’t ones that could be found quickly—maybe not in years, decades, or even a lifetime.

For her, the more worlds she visited, the more information she gathered, the closer she’d get to the truth.

☢️☢️☢️

The room suddenly darkened.

This was not Mu Rong’s imagination.

It was morning, the weather was fine, and the window in his study was open.

But the instant that pale-faced man entered, a gust of wind from nowhere slammed the window shut.

The world fell silent at once, even the birds in the garden outside could no longer be heard.

Mu Rong could only hear the sound of his own heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump.

Mu Xing and Wen Li, who should have been in the study, were gone.

Mu Rong stared in horror at this strange man and instinctively took a step back.

“Wh-who are you? Where are my wife and son?” He couldn’t help glancing behind him.

Ling Nu sized him up, the corners of his lips slowly curling into a smile, dark energy swirling around his body, emerald eyes fixed on Mu Rong.

The moment Mu Rong met those eyes, his expression went blank.

Ling Nu sat on the sofa and asked, “Do you know what your Mu ancestors did?”

Mu Rong blankly asked, “What?”

Ling Nu’s face twisted with anger: “The matter of the cat demon.”

Mu Rong answered, “I know. My father told me years ago.”

In fact, Wen Li and Mu Xing were just standing at the doorway. They watched Mu Rong stand there dazed, as if hypnotized, answering Ling Nu’s questions.

Hearing Mu Rong’s confirmation, Wen Li’s heart sank.

Ling Nu asked urgently, “Where exactly did you suppress the cat demon’s bones on Jiao Ming Mountain? How can the curse be undone?”

Mu Rong hesitated for quite a while before replying, “A book was passed down from our ancestors. It records all of this in detail. My father said, after so many generations, the Mu family long lost the skills of our forebears and never studied it carefully.”

“And that book?” Ling Nu demanded.

Mu Rong told him it was in the safe in the study.

At this point, Ling Nu had already gotten what he wanted.

But he glanced at Mu Xing, remembering the benefit of that bag of dried fish.

So he asked Mu Rong, “You know the Mu family curse—every fifty years one Mu must die at the hands of the cat demon. You gave the black jade qilin to Mu Xing. Did you mean for him to die?”

Wen Li couldn’t help clenching her fists.

Mu Xing had already guessed the answer, so he was very calm.

Mu Rong declared righteously, “Someone has to die. Xingxing has enjoyed our family’s love and indulgence for so many years. It’s time he bore responsibility.”

“Damn you, bastard Mu Rong!” Wen Li couldn’t hold back and cursed aloud.

Her angry shout snapped Mu Rong out of the strange daze.

He blinked back to his senses, not remembering what he had just said. Looking at the pale, eerie young man before him, then at Wen Li and Mu Xing standing to the side, he frowned instinctively. “You…”

Smack!

Ling Nu raised his hand and slapped him.

He hadn’t held back. Mu Rong was knocked out cold.

Wen Li, who had wanted to strike him but was a step too late: “…”

She couldn’t help shouting, “Beautifully done!”

Just having heard Mu Rong personally admit he wanted their son dead, Wen Li was burning with fury.

She wasn’t so afraid of Ling Nu anymore. Instead, she looked at him naturally and asked, “Mr. Ling Nu, may I address you this way? Could you wake him up again like you just did? There are still things I haven’t figured out, and I want to ask him.”

She added, “Of course, I’m sorry to trouble you. You seem to really like dried fish. If you help me with this, I…”

Ling Nu’s eyes flickered almost imperceptibly.

He guessed that this human woman seemed to want to bribe him with dried fish.

But was he such a cat with no principles? Just a bit of dried fish and she thought he’d do as asked?

As he pondered, Wen Li’s next words came out: “I’ll buy a company that produces dried fish, to thank you.”

Ling Nu: !

Wen Li, still embarrassed, said, “I know such worldly things may not matter to you. But as an ordinary person, I can only show gratitude in such a vulgar way.”

Ling Nu’s mind was filled with: A dried fish company!

What was vulgar about that?

He didn’t even bother with pretense. He immediately said, “Deal!”

Mu Xing chuckled softly at the side, but the two clear-headed people present—one thinking only of dried fish, the other about something else—didn’t notice.

Mu Rong groggily woke up.

His face felt sore, but when he touched it, nothing seemed wrong.

He looked around in confusion. It was just his study, and he was sitting in his usual chair where he handled business.

How had he fallen asleep?

He thought about it. He’d come to the study after breakfast. Nothing unusual happened—just reading and thinking about some matters…

Maybe he hadn’t been resting well lately because of the curse, and was just too tired. That must be it, he thought.

“Mu Rong.” A voice sounded by his ear.

He instinctively looked around. “Who?”

A cold hand settled on his shoulder, and his thoughts sank.

Ling Nu tilted his chin toward Wen Li: “You ask him directly.”

For the sake of the dried fish, he was being polite to Wen Li.

And in his heart he thought: It looks like Mu Xing and his mother are good people too, tricked by the Mu family, both quite pitiful.

Since that’s the case, when I take revenge on the Mu family, I’ll spare those two.

Wen Li looked at the husband she had lived with for decades, her heart filled with hatred and disgust.

She asked Mu Rong, “You knew about the Mu family curse long ago, didn’t you? You had already decided to make Xingxing bear it, didn’t you?”

Mu Rong replied, “Someone had to take that responsibility.”

Wen Li shouted angrily, “Then why don’t you go die yourself?”

She asked again, “So all these years, your supposed favoritism toward Xingxing was fake? Just an act for me to see? Why bother with such false displays? Do you think I would mistreat my stepson?”

Suddenly, she thought of something. “Wait! When did you first know about the Mu family curse? When you married me, when you had Xingxing…”

A chill spread down her back.

Mu Rong had already given the answer. “In my heart, my heir was always Mu Qiong. He is my eldest son, the child of me and the woman I love. Unfortunately, one time my father saw you in a shopping mall and insisted I divorce and pursue you.”

Wen Li was stunned. “Why?”

Mu Rong said proudly, “Our Mu ancestors were once famous cultivators. In recent decades, though we no longer have that talent, reading ordinary physiognomy is no problem. My father said you had an extremely rare face of fortune and prosperity for your husband. The luck our family stole from the cat demon has been nearly exhausted over the centuries. If I married you, your prosperous fate could ensure the Mu family flourished for decades more.”

Not only Wen Li, but even Mu Xing had never expected such a hidden secret.

Looking at Mu Rong, Mu Xing only felt waves of disgust in his heart.

How could a family stoop so low?

If even Mu Xing felt that way, how much more Wen Li, who was the one truly wronged?

Yet Mu Rong went on, “I loved Mu Qiong’s mother, but as head of the Mu family, I had to take responsibility for the whole clan. Just at that time I already knew of the curse. I couldn’t bear to lose Mu Qiong. So, marrying Wen Li and having a child with her—he could take the calamity in Mu Qiong’s place.”

Wen Li almost vomited from disgust at this man.

The thought that for so many years she had shared a bed with such a creature made her feel like retching.

Seeing her pale face, Mu Xing worried she might collapse from anger. He quickly came to her side and comforted her. “Don’t get too angry, Mom. Just think of him as a beast. Why lower yourself to reason with a beast?”

Wen Li gripped her son’s hand tightly, as if drawing strength from it.

She nodded. “Yes, such a vile animal isn’t worth my anger. Isn’t it good now? Xingxing is safe, and I know the truth.”

She turned her head, her eyes blazing as she stared at Ling Nu, and asked solemnly, “Mr. Ling Nu, you’ve come for revenge, haven’t you?”

Ling Nu was startled by the light in her gaze, and nodded instinctively.

Wen Li gritted her teeth. “Fine. I’m not particularly skilled, but I do have money. Whatever you want, as long as it can be bought with money, I’m willing to give. I have only one request.”

Ling Nu couldn’t help but say, “Speak.”

Wen Li looked hatefully at Mu Rong, who sat like a wooden doll in the chair, and sneered. “Torture him well. Don’t let him die too quickly.”

After listening to Mu Rong earlier, Ling Nu too felt this Mu clansman was even more vicious than he had imagined.

Thinking that way, Wen Li and her son seemed all the more pitiful.

As fellow victims of the Mu family, and given he already had a good impression of them, Ling Nu felt Wen Li and her son were now on his side.

He nodded. “Of course. Even if you didn’t say it, I would.”

Wen Li thought for a moment and then said, “If you mean to take his life, could you wait a bit?”

Ling Nu: ?

Wen Li said decisively, “Wait until I divorce him and divide the property first. I don’t want any further ties to him. Even if he must die, I want the divorce done before that.”

Ling Nu was stunned. After all, he was a five-hundred-year-old cat spirit, used to seeing weak and gentle women of the inner chambers. He had never seen one this hard, who spoke of divorce without a second thought.

But it was a good thing.

Not only did he agree, he even promised to help with it.

*

Mu Rong woke groggily once more.

This time, both sides of his face hurt—one from the slap that had knocked him out earlier, the other from Wen Li, who had nearly died of rage and struck him too.

But when he touched his face, there was nothing unusual, because Ling Nu had concealed the marks of injury with an illusion, leaving only the pain.

Mu Rong recalled vaguely: after breakfast he had gone to the study to read, then… maybe he was too tired and had fallen asleep?

Just then, the door opened.

It was Wen Li.

He remembered she was supposed to go out today, and asked in puzzlement, “Didn’t you say you were going for beauty treatments and shopping? Why…”

His words trailed off.

He didn’t know why, but the wife he had gotten along with tolerably well in the past—just one look at her today filled him with disgust.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣