The arrival of Lu Shi'an transformed the penthouse suite into the softest place in the world.
Outside the window, the snowstorm of Godu raged.
Inside, it was an eternal spring.
Lu Chenyuan's life began to move to a different rhythm.
Once, his time had been measured in quarters, months, and weeks, filled with meetings, reports, and strategic planning.
Now, his units of time became four-hour feedings, two-hour diaper changes, and countless, inexplicable moments of silent gazing.
He learned to hold the baby.
His tall frame looked almost comical cradling that tiny, fragile life.
But he learned quickly—and earnestly.
From initial clumsiness to practiced efficiency in just a few days.
Mo Qingli leaned against the bed, watching quietly.
She observed this man, gently dressing their child with careful hands, afraid of hurting the little one.
She listened as he murmured illogical sweet nothings to the infant who couldn’t yet understand.
Her heart swelled with an emotion she had never known so fully before—happiness.
Lou Mengling and Lin Shuhan, the two mothers, took full charge of logistics.
One brewed nourishing soups.
The other studied the most scientific parenting methods.
Watching their son and daughter finally find peace after weathering storms, their eyes brimmed with contentment.
The birth of this little life seemed to erect an invisible barrier, shutting out all the chaos of the outside world.
Yet, the newborn’s first cry pierced through walls, becoming the loudest thunderclap in J Country’s political arena.
Lu Shi'an.
This name, along with its meaning—"returning home safely"—landed on the desks of every key figure in J Country within twelve hours of the birth.
It was not a threat.
It was a declaration.
A declaration of Lu Chenyuan’s patience—and his confidence.
The next day, J Country’s Prime Minister submitted a proposal to Parliament for an early election.
He needed a fresh mandate to confront a crisis spiraling out of control.
He was gambling on politics to reclaim the initiative.
But he underestimated the seeds Lu Chenyuan had sown over the past months.
...
Ambassador Li Wenbo visited again on an afternoon when the snow had cleared.
He carried no documents.
Only a traditional Xia Country longevity locket.
"For the little one," he said with a smile, handing the gift to Lu Chenyuan.
His face betrayed unmistakable relief and joy.
"Congratulations, Mr. Lu."
"Thank you, Ambassador Li." Lu Chenyuan accepted the gift and invited him to sit.
"Our comrades back home are deeply concerned about you, Ms. Mo, and the child," Li Wenbo said, his tone carrying official warmth.
"They asked me to reassure you—everything at home is fine."
"We are at ease," Lu Chenyuan nodded.
"One more thing." Li Wenbo shifted to the main point.
"The parliamentary election in J Country has just concluded."
He looked at Lu Chenyuan, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.
"The ruling party lost thirty seats."
"Piero’s Liberal Party achieved a historic breakthrough. Though still short of forming a government alone, they now hold decisive influence."
The result was unexpected—yet made perfect sense.
Over the past months:
The "Lighthouse" Foundation’s legal aid had given J Country’s underclass hope for a better future.
Wang Tongwen’s art exhibitions had captivated the elite with Xia culture’s charm.
Professor Liu Jiuwen and the Xia diaspora’s rising influence had reshaped communities.
Each effort was like a drop of water, silently seeping into J Country’s soil.
Together, they redirected the tide.
Lu Chenyuan listened quietly.
No triumph showed on his face.
As if he were merely an audience to the story.
"This is good news," he said calmly.
Li Wenbo studied him.
He knew this young man had orchestrated it all.
Yet when the fruit ripened, he stepped back—a true bystander.
Such composure, such vision—it commanded respect.
"This morning, J Country’s Prime Minister held an emergency cabinet meeting," Li Wenbo continued.
"There was only one agenda item."
"The case of Ms. Mo Qingli."
"The final decision," Li Wenbo enunciated clearly, "is to reopen the judicial investigation. And to allow legal experts from our side full participation."
This meant J Country’s authorities had finally relented.
Releasing Mo Qingli was no longer "impossible"—it was now a negotiable option.
"Understood." Lu Chenyuan’s reaction remained subdued.
Soon after, Li Wenbo took his leave.
Once the ambassador was gone, Lu Chenyuan walked to the crib and gazed at his sleeping son.
As if the baby’s every breath mattered more than the political earthquake in J Country.
...
Two days later, Old Piero paid a personal visit.
No longer the art enthusiast met at an exhibition, he was now a rising political force.
Two sharp-eyed aides followed him, his aura entirely different from their last encounter.
"Congratulations, Mr. Lu," Old Piero said with a politician’s polished smile.
"And to you, Mr. Piero," Lu Chenyuan replied, shaking his hand.
They sat in the living room.
Lou Mengling and Lin Shuhan discreetly carried the baby into the inner room.
Only the two men remained.
One, a tech titan who moved global tides.
The other, a political leader on the verge of national power.
Yet their conversation began with the child.
"He’s lovely," Old Piero said. "Takes after his mother."
"Yes," Lu Chenyuan’s voice softened. "He’s an angel."
"A child gives you a weakness," Old Piero observed, watching him pointedly.
"No." Lu Chenyuan corrected him. "It gives me armor."
Old Piero’s eyes flickered.
He realized this young man hadn’t grown "softer" with fatherhood.
If anything, he seemed more unshakable.
"I came with good news," Old Piero cut to the chase.
"The Liberal Party will formally propose in Parliament—"
"A transparent, independent review of Ms. Mo Qingli’s case."
"With our current influence, the odds of passage are ninety percent."
He leaned back, relaxed yet exuding subtle superiority.
As if he were the one bestowing a favor.
"Thank you, Mr. Piero," Lu Chenyuan replied, neither humble nor overbearing. "And thank the Liberal Party for upholding justice."
He showed no fawning gratitude.
Not even a hint of delight.
This gave Old Piero a faint sense of displeasure.
He had originally thought Lu Chenyuan would seize this opportunity to ask him for more help.
But Lu Chenyuan did no such thing.
pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
