A flicker of faint blue light passed through those murky eyes, then extinguished. He stood in silence for a moment, heaving a long sigh with all the weariness of a middle-aged civil servant being forced into overtime.
"This mortal realm just keeps getting more and more chaotic…"
He strode toward the warehouse door, his pace quick and urgent. But at the threshold, as if remembering something, he glanced back.
Ling sat primly on the lotus throne, her face wearing the system's mandatory "Celestial Maiden Wave" smile—so perfectly standardized it was downright unsettling.
The muscles on Dax's rough face twitched, as if debating whether to bring this dead weight along. Finally, with obvious reluctance, he fished a round object from his pocket—its surface gleaming with antique copper patina—and tossed it into Ling's lap.
"Hold onto this. One of the few premium items we've got at the temple. Portable fast-charger."
Ling caught the thing. It was shaped like an old-fashioned hot water bottle, warm and smooth to the touch. The instant it touched her palm, she felt an extremely pure and gentle spiritual power flowing through her skin, pouring steadily into that desiccated shell of a body.
Then a large, musty overcoat reeking of tobacco was unceremoniously dropped over her head, swallowing her whole.
"Follow me. Emergency."
Warmth flowing in, Ling felt the rusted joints of this body finally getting some lubrication. She hopped nimbly off the lotus throne and followed Dax out the door.
Outside the warehouse, Dax was pressing the unlock button on a comically tiny, rather pathetic-looking electric scooter.
The headlights flashed twice. The right side-mirror, held together with electrical tape, reflected the light as if showing off its battle scars.
Though she'd never spent time in the human world, the Abyss junkyard regularly received wreckage of luxury cars saturated with powerful desires and resentments. This thing before her was clearly bottom-tier by any standard.
"Hurry up. This thing doesn't have to stop for red lights—faster that way."
Dax urged her on as he swung his leg over, gesturing for her to take the back seat.
"Let me show you what a real joyride feels like."
Ling rolled her eyes, pulled the ratty coat tighter, and resigned herself to climbing on.
She settled onto the back seat, tucked the warm charging device against her chest, closed her eyes, and began examining her backend system.
She wasn't entirely sure where to start. Even though she'd seen the filthiest soul fragments in the Abyss, none of it compared to even a fraction of the "legacy spaghetti code" inside this body.
At least she'd already broken through that ridiculous Infinity Shell. Leaving would be as simple as dusting off her hands.
But still…
She watched Dax's broad back. Behind that exquisite porcelain face, Ling ground her molars viciously.
A crisp notification chimed in the depths of Ling's consciousness.
Her vision flickered like an old CRT television that had been smacked hard. After a violent burst of static snow, a pale blue window with distinctly retro aesthetics popped up.
System Notice: Low-power mode disengaged.
Standard operating parameters loading… Administrator privileges activated.
Ling shook her head and found that this body's hardware had finally finished "warming up."
The scenery before her transformed instantly. From 480p to 720p—details that had always existed but been overlooked now emerged into clarity. A dewdrop hung at the tip of a roadside sycamore leaf, catching the faint light. Past Dax's solid back, the wobbling side-mirror—only half intact—reflected her own face. Even the soft whoosh of a convenience store's automatic door opening and closing in the distance became distinctly audible.
A semi-transparent augmented reality tag appeared directly above Dax's head, bobbing slightly with his bulky frame.
[Subject Identification]
- Name:
- Current Position:
- Core Traits:
- System Memo:
Ling's lip twitched at that long list of "traits." This system's bootlicking had absolutely no bottom line. Wei's twisted sense of humor had truly permeated every byte of the code.
But this also revealed the despicable logic behind this "Celestial Maiden System."
This shell's RAM was obviously pathetically small. If she were a soul trapped in the Array, gradually losing self-awareness, she'd never be able to process complex interpersonal relationships. These tags were navigation aids designed for "puppets."
Imagine a prisoner with wiped memories opening her eyes to see the warden behind her, while the system helpfully announced:
Ling scrolled down and noticed a grayed-out icon flickering weakly at the edge of her vision.
[Data Link: Not connected to Heavenly Court Central Database (Offline). Cannot retrieve real-time updates.Log in? ]
Y/N
Ling withdrew her consciousness with a snort.
Ling understood deeply that "stealth" was the first rule of survival. She wouldn't expose herself before she'd figured out the full picture.
But that "benefactor and creator" memo above Dax's head was too offensive to her eyes. It was like having this dude's nude photo taped to her headboard.
With a flicker of thought, Ling pulled up the edit command.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Rewriting memo content…Please enter administrator password: _ _ _ _
Ling silently recited: 0000. She deleted the original content with disgust and manually updated it:
// [ Permission Verified: System_Admin (Restricted) ]
// [ Original Memo Content Erased ]
{
"memo_update": {
"target": "Jiang_Dax",
"status": "Pickling_Reserve_List",
"instruction": "Recommend observation period followed by direct immersion."
}
}
// [ System Feedback ]: Data manually updated.
Watching that line of text now glowing faintly green above Dax's head, Ling finally felt like she could breathe easier.
After that moment of satisfaction, a fine chill crept up her spine. If she weren't the Ling who came in with the password and her own "cheats"—if she really were some ordinary soul who'd descended to the mortal realm full of idealistic dreams, completely defenseless…
Ling felt like she'd accidentally stepped on a cockroach and felt it burst under her foot—disgusted and furious.
In her "homeland," the strong devouring the weak was common sense. Brutal violence was routine. Deranged madness was merely after-dinner entertainment.
But the evil there, due to the absence of reason, was usually naked, direct, and unadorned. At most, it was like a hunting chameleon—changing colors to hide in the grass. But it would never tell its prey "I love you."
True "Buddha's mouth, serpent's heart"—she had rarely witnessed that.
No wonder the old ghosts at the tavern always mocked those backwater yokels who'd never ventured out:
"A hungry ghost who's never studied abroad in the mortal realm can't even lie properly—and still dares call itself an evil spirit? Nothing but a beast that knows how to bite."
Wind howled past her ears. Streetlights became streaks of light trailing behind them. Dax rode this broken-down scooter like a bat out of hell—
Straight down the sidewalk, going the wrong way. Ignoring every red light.
Pedestrians literally jumped out of their path. The curses of early-rising elderly exercisers were left in their wake.
This was pure suicide driving. But Dax seemed utterly unconcerned. He even had the leisure to explain: "Earth Gods have certain privileges in their own jurisdiction. These cameras can't capture me."
"What about traffic lights?"
"Rules are for mortals."
"…"
Ling said nothing. She silently added another line to Dax's memo:
“Addendum: Abuses public authority, expert at pulling strings. Recommend skinning before pickling.”
A teeth-grinding screech of brakes. The scooter finally stopped in a secluded alley behind the city museum.
Past four in the morning. The alley echoed with the distant jingling of early street vendors pushing their carts.
Occasionally an early-rising elder passed through the museum plaza, turning to look at the burly man pushing a beat-up scooter and the strange woman on it—wearing an oversized men's coat, a glimpse of silk hem peeking out beneath.
Dax snatched the "hot water bottle" charger back from Ling's hands.
"That's enough. As long as you can walk, that's fine. Not like I'm expecting you to do anything useful anyway."
Ling cursed him silently for being stingy. Only charged to 50% and he cuts her off.
But she couldn't argue. In her current state, even at full charge she'd only be able to conjure a few extra showers of flower petals. Fat lot of good that would do.
Dax seemed anxious. He rummaged through the scooter's basket, pulled out a massive U-lock, and squatted down to secure the vehicle while scanning nervously in all directions.
Suddenly— A huge shadow flashed past.
An explosion of sound without warning. A parked car nearby erupted in a wailing alarm. Its roof had caved in deeply.
Dax and Ling both leaned forward to look. On the car's roof lay a man, face covered in blood, his soul-signature extremely unstable. Dax sucked in a breath, his expression caught between disbelief and utter despair.
Following the trajectory of the fall, they looked up. At the edge of the museum's rooftop stood a young man in a school uniform and glasses. He was leaning over to peer down, wearing a sinister, grotesquely twisted smile.
That aura made Ling uncomfortable—it smelled like one of her own kind, yet carried an uncultured, nouveau-riche sort of viciousness.
Several passersby, drawn by the commotion, started to gather.
"Oh my god, what happened—"
"Call the police!"
"Did he fall from up there?"
Dax waved his hand impatiently. "Nothing to see here."
His voice was calm, yet carried an indescribable electromagnetic quality, like a broadcast from very far away. "Go about your business. There's nothing here."
Then he casually pulled a yellowed talisman from his pocket and slapped it onto the shattered car window.
The bystanders' eyes glazed over. The panic drained from their faces, replaced by everyday numbness. They nodded vaguely and wandered off as if nothing had happened. In their perception, this spot contained nothing but an ordinary, perfectly intact wall.
Dax glanced up at the rooftop again—the uniformed young man had vanished.
He checked the pulse of the man on the car roof, his face scrunching up. "Still alive, but needs immediate attention."
Then he pointed at Ling and addressed the injured man: "Wynn, this girl's a new colleague. Brain's not working too well yet. Keep an eye on her. I'm going back to get the car."
Then he pointed at the blood-soaked man and told Ling: "Ling, this is your team leader. Get acquainted."
"Wait—" Ling started to ask where he was going.
But the old bastard simply sank into the ground and vanished without a trace.
Ling stood there, stunned. He'd just… abandoned her?
Above the bloodied man's forehead, a frantic "loading circle" spun and spun before finally, with great difficulty, displaying a semi-transparent system tag. Ling squinted, examining it carefully.
[Subject Identification]
- Name:
- Current Position:
- Additional Positions:
- Core Traits:
- System Memo:
Good lord. Longjiang only had a handful of districts total. Seemed like Dax wasn't lying—this place really was short-staffed beyond belief.
This guy wasn't just some captain. He was this city's "universal patch"—one man carrying the security load of over a dozen districts. Even if he hadn't splattered himself today, he was bound to fall apart from exhaustion sooner or later.
But what truly left Ling speechless was that "Core Traits" field.
"High-fiber non-slip bathroom mat?" Ling extended a finger and poked at the red-flickering tag from a distance.
Had these clowns just lazily plugged into some e-commerce database API to save time?
Or was it because this "Captain Zhong" was such a hard-working, anyone-can-walk-all-over-me pushover that when the system tried to identify his "guardian" personality, it directly matched him to the closest physical equivalent—
A wear-resistant, non-slip mat that never complains no matter how much you abuse it?
"So hardworking and uncomplaining," Ling murmured to herself. "I wonder what kind of wine you'd make if I pickled you in a jar…"
The atmosphere in the back alley was genuinely bizarre. A man lying on a car roof, flesh torn and bloody. A "beautiful woman" standing beside him, spacing out.
Several seconds of silence.
The man struggled to raise one hand toward Ling.
"Zhong…Wynn… "
His voice was hoarse, with a gurgling undertone—clearly his throat was full of blood.
Ling blinked, then reached out and clasped his hand.
Sticky. Still burning hot.
"…Ling." She gave her name.
The two of them held hands like that, grip smeared together in a mess of blood.
"So…" Ling didn't know what to say. "You want to sleep for a bit first?"
"…Mm."
Wynn weakly closed his eyes.
"…"
The awkwardness was thick enough to freeze the air solid. Ling began looking around out of boredom. That talisman seemed rather interesting—
As her attention focused on it, the "ghost-scribbles" on the talisman began to deconstruct and transform in her vision, converting into a language she could understand.
A system window popped up:
[Technique Type: Background Fill Talisman]
- Principle: Interferes with visual cortex processing]
- Effect: - Current Status:
Oh. So it was basically an auto-fill background texture command. But just from that brief examination—
The celestial maiden froze again. Saliva she hadn't managed to swallow dribbled from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes, overloaded from the processing, involuntarily leaked two streams of "compassion for all beings" tears.
Wynn, half-conscious, cracked his eyes open and saw this scene. "Ah…" he murmured weakly. "So her brain really doesn't work too well…"
And while Ling was still "buffering," footsteps echoed from the other end of the alley…