4:00 PM.
Royal Grand Hotel, banquet hall.
Hundreds of journalists stood ready, their cameras poised.
The flashes of light converged into a sea of stars.
As the banquet hall doors slowly swung open, every lens focused on the entrance.
Lu Chenyuan stepped in, not clad in a suit but in simple dark casual wear.
In his arms, secured by a baby carrier, was a swaddled bundle—Lu Shi'an, fast asleep.
His towering figure stood like a mountain, shielding the child securely against his chest.
Close behind him was Mo Qingli.
She wore a beige trench coat, her long hair cascading over her shoulders.
A faint, composed smile graced her face.
Her hand rested lightly on Lu Chenyuan’s arm.
And so, the family of three stepped into the world’s spotlight.
There was no trace of exhaustion or distress.
Not a shadow of the hardships they had endured.
They looked like a young couple returning from a blissful vacation.
Calm, serene, happy.
This moment alone was a silent declaration.
A statement that they stood here as victors.
The couple took their positions at the podium.
Lu Chenyuan adjusted his hold slightly, ensuring his son slept undisturbed.
He said nothing, merely scanning the room with quiet composure.
Mo Qingli stepped forward and took the microphone.
The room fell instantly silent.
"Thank you for your concern, members of the press," she began, her voice gentle.
"I know you have many questions."
"You may begin."
The first question came from A Nation’s largest news network.
"Ms. Mo, how do you feel at this moment? And what would you like to say to the J Country government?"
The question was pointed, designed to provoke resentment.
Mo Qingli smiled.
"My feelings can be summed up in one word: homecoming."
"As for the J Country government," she paused,
"I believe the president’s recent speech already reflects their stance. A nation that looks forward deserves respect."
Her answer was flawless—expressing joy at returning while deftly deflecting the question.
The second question came from Xia Country’s official news agency.
"President Lu, President Mo, welcome home. Will this experience affect the overseas investments of companies like Yuanlong and Hanqing?"
This, too, was critical—tied to vast economic stakes.
Mo Qingli glanced at Lu Chenyuan.
With a slight nod, they shared a wordless understanding.
"Technology knows no borders," Mo Qingli replied, her tone still measured.
"We have always believed that openness and cooperation are the only paths to human progress."
"We will not let isolated incidents shake our convictions."
"Yuanlong and its partners will continue to welcome all markets that honor rules and respect partnerships."
This was not just a corporate pledge but a reflection of Xia Country’s official stance.
The atmosphere grew increasingly charged.
Questions came one after another.
Mo Qingli handled each with effortless grace.
What could have been a tense confrontation became an elegant, poised performance.
Finally, a journalist from a J Country outlet got his turn.
He rose, visibly nervous.
"Ms. Mo, Mr. Lu, I apologize for what you endured in our country."
His opening carried remorse.
"My question is this: Setting aside politics and business, as ordinary people who lived here for three years—how do you view this nation and its people?"
The question stripped away grand narratives, returning to raw humanity.
Every camera fixed on Mo Qingli.
Everyone wanted to hear how a woman imprisoned for three years would respond.
Mo Qingli was silent for a moment.
She turned to look at her son in Lu Chenyuan’s arms.
Her gaze softened instantly.
When she faced the cameras again, her smile was warm and genuine.
"J Country is a beautiful land," she said.
"Here, we witnessed the most stunning maple leaves and the coldest snow."
"We met friends like Lu Jinlin and Liu Jiuwen—people who upheld justice and conscience."
"And we received countless anonymous acts of kindness and support from ordinary J Country citizens."
She paused, her eyes sweeping the room.
"Of course, we also experienced the arrogance of power and the bias of justice."
She didn’t shy away from the darkness.
"But," her voice grew firm and bright,
"A nation’s greatness isn’t measured by never making mistakes, but by its courage to correct them and choose its own path."
"As we’ve seen today."
"So, toward J Country, I hold no resentment—only blessings."
"May this nation truly step out from history’s shadow and embrace an independent future."
"May its people live in a land that grows more just, open, and prosperous."
With that, she gave a slight bow.
The room was dead silent.
Then, after a few seconds—
Applause broke out.
At first scattered, then swelling into thunderous acclaim.
Even the most cynical journalists clapped sincerely.
They were utterly moved by this woman’s grace and magnanimity.
No complaints, no tears, no stoking of hatred.
Standing at the pinnacle of victory, she chose to extend dignity and goodwill to her adversaries.
That was true strength.
...
The press conference ended.
Lu Chenyuan’s family, escorted by security, returned to their penthouse suite.
The moment the door closed—
Mo Qingli’s tension visibly melted away.
Lu Chenyuan immediately steadied her.
"Tired?" he asked softly.
"Yes," she exhaled, leaning into him.
Downstairs, she had been an armored warrior.
Now, in their private space, she could finally let her guard down.
Lou Mengling and Lin Shuhan rushed over, their eyes glistening.
"Come, sit down and rest."
"Qingli, you were incredible just now," Lou Mengling murmured, her voice thick.
Lin Shuhan wiped her tears. "I’m so proud of you."
Mo Qingli smiled.
She took Lu Shi'an from Lu Chenyuan’s arms and held him close.
The baby seemed to sense his mother’s emotions.
He nuzzled against her, sighing contentedly in his sleep.
Lu Chenyuan wrapped his arms around them from behind.
He bent close to her ear and whispered,
"Qingli, out there—you were the brightest light in the world."
She turned her head and kissed his cheek.
"Because you were behind me."
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?"
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
lanned to earn money steadily and take life at a slower pace. But he never expected... his father's remarriage, and the stepmother bringing along a dependent, would completely disrupt his life's plans...
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.
