Before being corrected, at this moment Chen Miemie temporarily had access to all areas of the fourth basement level.
He hadn’t forgotten that Chenpi had mentioned other areas held imprisoned anomalies. He began to wander around.
The ceiling on this level was very high, the structure complex, like a maze. After winding this way and that, even Chen Miemie himself lost track of where he was.
Since he had nearly all permissions, most doors were open to him.
Soon, he encountered the first anomaly. Chen Miemie entered an observation room, where an entire wall was made of glass.
Through the glass, he could see a larger room used to hold anomalies. Inside was a massive black bear.
The bear lay curled up in the center of its nest, its head hidden, snoring loudly.
Chen Miemie hadn’t come to watch a bear sleep. He tried to wake it by shouting through the glass.
“Hey, look over here!”
The bear didn’t react at all.
Chen Miemie tapped on the glass. The glass felt very thick—designed to confine anomalies, likely a reinforced material.
“Doing that won’t help. No sound gets through from out here,” a woman’s voice said.
A woman in a white lab coat stepped into the room. Her features were defined, with big eyes, a high nose bridge, fair skin, and a tall, curvaceous figure.
Unfortunately, her rough state spoiled any claim to “beauty.” Thick dark circles hung under her eyes; her hair was dry, slightly curly, and a mess, like she hadn’t dried it after washing and just woke up. The collar of her lab coat was wrinkled. She looked altogether disheveled.
“Hello,” Chen Miemie said, his confidence waning after being caught trespassing.
The woman casually dropped onto a chair and lit a long, slim cigarette with practiced ease.
She blew out a puff of smoke. “New face. You’re from Chenpi’s side, right? Hmm, from the look on your face—if I’m guessing right, then I must be.”
Chen Miemie grew interested. This woman seemed intriguing—more so than the sleeping bear.
“That’s right. I’m the newly appointed safety inspector, surveying this level for potential hazards.”
The woman didn’t care about his made-up title. “Take your look and leave. My lab seems very dangerous, but trust me, it’s not safe.”
“I haven’t finished inspecting yet. This big black bear hasn’t moved. I need to wait until it goes berserk and pounds on the glass wall—then I can confirm the lab is sturdy enough.”
She nodded. “A pragmatic idea. After hearing your explanation, I’ve decided to let you explain a bit more.”
Chen Miemie was confused. “Who are you?”
“Coming into someone else’s lab and asking who the owner is—if you’re not smart, you’re a bit dumb.”
“Can you talk normally?”
The woman flicked ash from her cigarette. “Here’s some advice: don’t give people advice.”
Chen Miemie turned his back to her. “Hmph. Don’t bother me while I watch this big black bear.”
She didn’t stop him. “You triggered the internal alarm, woke me up, and now you refuse to leave. Where’s your sense?”
Chen Miemie seized the opportunity. “I know you’re reasonable, but let’s skip reasoning.”
That remark made her eyes light up, as if she’d found a kindred spirit.
She finally introduced herself. “Xiumu. Some people call me Xiumu the Scholar.”
Chen Miemie was a bit surprised. “The great theorist Xiumu the Scholar? What are you doing here?”
“When you say ‘theorist,’ where else should I be but in the lab? Not at the Academy of Scholars, for sure.”
“No, I mean, theorists are supposed to theorize. Doing experiments is more like practice.”
“You think theorists just flip through books and never run an experiment? Just remember this—never mind what, just remember.”
This left Chen Miemie feeling stuck and frustrated.
He’d never met anyone harder to deal with than Leng Ruxue. Cold jokes, at the worst, were still jokes—just not very funny. But Xiumu’s nonsense talk had reached a whole new level of absurdity.
“What’s up with this bear? Why is it always sleeping?”
When it came to her field, Xiumu didn’t waste words.
“That’s not a bear. It’s called a Temperature Thief. Its danger level fluctuates between 3 and 6.
It can steal the concept of temperature from a local area—not make it colder, but make ‘temperature’ itself vanish. Within 5 meters, it strips the body of basic danger-warning systems; you can’t sense hot or cold, risking frostbite or burns without realizing it.”
“Why the huge fluctuation in danger level?”
“The Temperature Thief’s lethality depends heavily on terrain and climate. In volcanoes or glaciers, it can reach level 6. In a temperate environment, it drops to 3.”
Chen Miemie thought it over. “I don’t usually go to those extreme places. This ability has too many limits and isn’t stable—I don’t like it.”
Xiumu shot him a look. As if anyone cared what he liked.
“Is Chenpi starting her immortality research again?”
“Yeah.”
“Found a breakthrough?”
“She thinks she has. She’s confident.”
Xiumu stubbed out her cigarette. “She always looks confident. No one in the Scholar Academy believes her anymore.”
Chen Miemie agreed. As for the research project, he didn’t even believe he had a way—he had no idea where Chenpi got her confidence.
“By the way, if you need help with the research, come to me. I specialize in matter decomposition and recombination.”
Chen Miemie was taken aback. “You still believe in her?”
“I don’t. But I’m willing to help. The reason the Temperature Thief is so calm now is the hypnotic drug Chenpi gave me.”
“Hey, how rude! Why don’t you call her ‘My Lady’?”
“I call her that to her face, too. People who say ‘My Lady’ don’t always respect her. The important thing is to keep the title in your heart.”
Chen Miemie found that deeply true.
“That hypnotic drug works well, huh? Even an anomaly can be knocked out with it.”
“Of course. It’s an advanced magical elixir brewed by Chenpi herself. Difficult for anything below danger level 6 to resist.”
Chen Miemie blinked. “Brewed magical elixirs!”
He suddenly remembered—when Huangyi met Chenpi, Chenpi had introduced herself as a Great Witch, an ancient Great Witch.
At that thought, he couldn’t help remarking:
“I thought there were only seven Great Witches out there. Turns out there can be a predecessor. As soon as you increase the count, it feels like the title loses some value.”
Xiumu corrected him.
“Usually, a new Great Witch appears only after the previous one dies. In rare cases of early resignation, the seat transfers, and the old can no longer call themselves a Great Witch.”
Chen Miemie was puzzled. “Then what about Chenpi?”
“There’s only one exception where the title is retained for life. At the dawn of the Seventh Epoch, the Witches rose as a new race. The first seven Great Witches of that new race were pioneers of the age, the race’s founders, granted eternal seats.”
“I didn’t realize Chenpi had that kind of glorious history.”
Even with Xiumu’s laid-back manner, her tone grew slightly excited as she said this.
In a surge of excitement, the word “Lady” slipped out before he could stop it.
“Of course, Lady Chenpi was once the First Seat of the New Era, revered by the witches as the Eternal Great Witch.”
to panic—he has a system. As long as an investment target dies, he can claim a reward. And since he is immortal, the one thing he has plenty of is time. ... Countless years later. “Immortal Emperor of Longevity? I invested in him.” “Supreme Celestial Venerable? I invested in him.” “Undying Empress? I invested in her.” “...” “Heh. Once they’ve all died, even the Heavenly Dao will have to kneel and call me Dad.”
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
rowess are unmatched, commanding a million-strong army! Yet, the Emperor wants to depose him for the sake of a false prince? Hold on, are you throwing me into some female-oriented romance plot? How can I tolerate this? With a grand wave of his hand—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! Slander the Emperor? Very well, all of you shall die! ... The False Prince: "Although I am not the biological son, Father and Mother love me more. The throne should be mine!" The Female Lead: "Qin Xiao, you are the Emperor, and I am a commoner. If you wish to marry me, you must abdicate. Otherwise, you will never have me!" The Empress: "After we divorce, you must give me half the empire!" The Transmigrator Consort: "You worthless Emperor, why should I kneel to you? All men are equal—I advise you to be kind!" The Great General: "The enemy general is my childhood sweetheart. For her sake, I willingly abandon the frontier defenses!" The Retired Emperor: "Although Yu'er was adopted, I prefer him. Qin Xiao, you should abdicate and let him become Emperor!" ... Very well! So this is how you want to play? Facing this twisted world of female-oriented tropes, Qin Xiao grins and raises his hand to unleash—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! I am the Emperor. Why would I bother reasoning with you? Seal the gates! Leave none alive!
he colors of other people’s emotions. Light red meant anxiety. Gray meant exhaustion. Orange meant excitement. Yellow... meant repression. At the same time, he could gain unlimited control over one of those colors. Pale cyan: relaxation. Using this ability, he started offering “two-yuan hugs,” spending an afternoon exchanging emotional-color experiences with others. Then came his final female customer of the day— a girl whose emotional color was pure black... —— A week later, Xu Chuan had become skilled at using pale cyan—Relaxation—treating it like a bottle of menthol balm whenever he needed it. That was when he discovered he had unlocked another unlimited emotional color: Purple, the color of fear. So these emotional colors refresh every week? Fine, I take it back—I’ll never call you useless again... —— Much later, after Xu Chuan had accumulated countless emotional abilities, one night, he suddenly found himself inside someone else’s dream. There, he could use the emotional colors he possessed to paint. And in her dream, he painted her a shower of pink shooting stars, spreading across the depths of the night sky...
