After Meieruita left, An Luo threw off the blanket and got out of bed, starting to light a fire.
Over this time, he had grown increasingly skilled at it. John had also taught him some tricks: use thinner kindling to build a simple small fire first, then add larger logs once the flames stabilized to burn steadily for a long time.
The fire provided much brighter light than candles, but it still couldn’t compare to the glow of even a single small electric lamp in modern society.
An Luo sat by the fire, staring at the dark flower pattern on the back of his hand as he racked his brain for any clues about this curse.
Unfortunately, nothing came to mind.
The novel did mention curses, of course, but only briefly, since the protagonist Meieruita didn’t specialize in curse witchcraft.
Under An Luo’s arrangement, Meieruita’s research focused on the highest realm of Time and Space Witchcraft.
Before transmigrating into the novel world, An Luo had already written the ending:
[A vast area centered on him experienced time flowing at an extreme speed, while his own time froze at its most peak and perfect moment, no longer moving.
Civilizations rose from inception to ruin in the blink of an eye. He passed through world after world, witnessing the birth and end of civilizations, absorbing endless knowledge with a mindset that had long transcended humanity, never stopping for a moment.
The whispers of secrets being passed in hiding didn’t escape his notice, nor did the faint sparks of wisdom blooming in the darkest ignorance—he plucked them all.
He was the traveler of endless worlds. With time accelerating wildly around him, no existence in the outer world could observe him. He wandered, journeyed, collected knowledge, and organized this infinite repository into his Wizard Tower.
His collection was the paradise every wizard dreamed of, though this feast of knowledge was enjoyed by him alone.]
Talk about high-level vibes.
After finishing it, An Luo had even jotted down on scrap paper with great interest:
[Unlockable Ending: Traveler]
Meieruita would roam endless worlds through infinite time, continuing to gather knowledge and explore the unknown to satisfy his insatiable thirst for learning and curiosity.
At the same time, the mismatched time flow and his indestructible Wizard Tower gave him a profound sense of security, allowing him to finally relax his taut nerves.
Originally, An Luo had wanted Meieruita to become something like Hermaeus Mora from The Elder Scrolls V, a demon god ruling over knowledge, or perhaps an entity like Yog-Sothoth from the Cthulhu Mythos.
But after thinking it over, he gave up on that.
Mainly because as a wizard, Meieruita would never want to become a god. To him, gods were merely intriguing research subjects. Becoming one himself would be lowering his standards.
So An Luo scrapped the “ascension to godhood” ending and chose the “Traveler” one instead.
How perfect. The journey never ends, and Meieruita could keep exploring infinite worlds, mastering ever more profound knowledge.
An Luo pulled himself from the memory and refocused on the current curse.
Curses were the “sneak attack” type of witchcraft, like sticking pins in a voodoo doll—insidious stuff that the protagonist naturally wouldn’t pursue.
But Meieruita did face curse ambushes in the Wizard Tower from those jealous of his talent.
Yet none of those matched the one An Luo had now.
There were a few ways to dispel a curse: master curse knowledge to unravel it directly, spend a fortune on a Curse Removal Artifact (which only worked on low-level ones anyway), or the simplest method—kill the caster.
It seemed buying a Curse Removal Artifact was An Luo’s only viable path right now.
But those things were outrageously expensive and only accepted Contribution Points, which he couldn’t afford.
However… An Luo had another practical option.
If he could sense magic power, write “Dispel Curse” in Chinese characters, and activate it, he could probably remove it.
With that thought, An Luo felt much more at ease.
He probably wouldn’t die in the short term, and Meieruita would protect him for his own interests anyway.
As long as he could perceive magic power, he could lift the curse.
Even without talent, he should sense at least a tiny bit within three years, right?
Worst case, he could ask Meieruita for pointers. For the sake of maintaining goodwill, the protagonist shouldn’t refuse.
With that in mind, the future still looked bright.
Having sorted his thoughts, An Luo began preparing dinner.
After some trial and error, he had figured out plenty of ways to handle these magic plants and magic beast meat, managing to whip up all sorts of decent dishes.
The flavors were passable.
Modern society never lacked for delicious food—what couldn’t you get with a tap of your finger? An Luo had learned to cook purely to save money.
But now that he was in his own novel, cooking wasn’t just his only way to eat something normal; it also helped pass the boring time.
Life was full of surprises.
The door was pushed open, followed by the crisp click of the lock. An Luo didn’t need to turn around to know it was Meieruita.
“Just a moment longer.” Without looking back, he stirred the vegetables in the iron pot with a wooden spatula. The aroma of food filled the room.
Though the Wizard Apprentice Dormitory lacked a range hood, food smells weren’t a problem.
Some apprentices produced toxic gases during research, so Alden even sold simple air exchangers.
With one activation, all the air in the room swapped instantly for clean, odorless fresh air.
Better than any range hood.
Besides the vegetables, An Luo had bought white bread as the staple. He steamed it soft, sliced it into pieces, and ate it with the veggies.
Not bad at all.
As An Luo cooked, he felt Meieruita’s gaze on him the whole time.
At first, it made him a bit uncomfortable, but he soon stopped caring.
Let him stare—it wouldn’t cost any meat.
Meieruita sat at the table, watching An Luo handle the ingredients and cook.
He had seen it once before, back when he thought An Luo was brewing some potion. But no, it really was just dinner prep.
This was Meieruita’s second time watching, and it still felt strangely fascinating.
Where had An Luo learned such complex, tedious methods to turn unpalatable food into tasty dishes?
“To save money,” An Luo answered Meieruita’s question without hesitation. “I told you before—I’m just an ordinary guy. Eating out all the time is too expensive, so I cook myself.”
He had no intention of pretending to be some upper-class type in front of Meieruita; there was nothing to fake.
He took a bite of veggies, then a bite of the processed white bread.
Even treated this way, the bread couldn’t compare to real steamed buns, let alone rice, but it was acceptable.
“Before coming here, I had just graduated from school and started working. Intern wages aren’t great, so I had to pinch pennies.”
During their first meal together, Meieruita had used knife and fork. Now, on the second, he had already mastered chopsticks.
An Luo wasn’t surprised, knowing his freakish learning ability.
Meieruita mimicked An Luo’s style, alternating bites of bread and veggies. His expression remained unchanged, his tone flat, giving no hint of his thoughts.
“Graduated from school?”
“Yeah.” An Luo nodded. “But we studied ordinary stuff—nothing as profound as witchcraft.”
Meieruita looked at him. “What exactly did you study?”
An Luo: “You could call it literature, I guess?”
The ever-versatile Chinese major.
He thought for a moment and elaborated: “History, literature, and a bit of philosophy.”
Meieruita nodded faintly and changed the subject: “Can I ask why you wrote this novel?”
An Luo: “Nothing special. One day I just felt like it, wrote an opening to test the waters, it got signed, so I kept going.”
He didn’t hide it—in fact, he was a bit pleased. Besides Meieruita, no one else in this world could discuss this with him. It reconnected him a little to Earth.
Meieruita: “I’ve heard many authors base protagonists on themselves. Am I some aspect of you?”
An Luo couldn’t help laughing. “No way! Look at us—where do we even resemble each other?”
Those gray-green eyes turned to him. An Luo shrugged. “I’m not anywhere near as smart as you.”
“But speaking of inspirations.” An Luo grew animated. “I did put some real people into the book.”
“Oh?” Meieruita kept his tone neutral. “Who might they be?”
An Luo: “Eh, none of them were good eggs. I had just graduated, didn’t know much or have experience, so some people took advantage, gave me trouble. I couldn’t do anything about it—pissed me off—so I wrote them in.”
“And then?”
An Luo flashed a smug grin. “Then you gave them a thorough thrashing, haha!”
Meieruita: “Me?”
“Of course.” An Luo took it for granted. “Who else? You’re the protagonist of this world. Obviously you handle the beatdowns—not me.”
“Why couldn’t you handle them in reality?”
An Luo thought it over and told the truth: “I’m not that clever.”
Mid-meal, his nerves relaxed unconsciously. “Plus, they were minor things.”
He gave an example: “When I first started working, a senior employee dumped his tasks on me, saying they were urgent and to prioritize them. I didn’t know better, so I did it, and ended up staying up late to finish my own work.”
“What can you do about that?”
“Next time he tried, I didn’t say anything—just ignored his stuff and did mine. When he asked, I said sorry, I forgot.”
An Luo shrugged. “No more of that after.”
He’d seen all the online hype about Gen Z taming the workplace, but real life showed it wasn’t that simple.
Breaking faces felt good in the moment, but afterward?
An Luo wasn’t some irreplaceable big shot—just a regular college grad.
With the economy down, good jobs were hard to come by.
An Luo didn’t mind showing his ordinariness to Meieruita.
The protagonist probably knew anyway.
He only cared about An Luo’s knowledge of the world’s settings, info, and Chinese characters.
What An Luo himself was like? Probably irrelevant.
So no big deal—he could spill freely.
With that thought, An Luo said: “No major crimes, just annoying little things.”
“At first, I’d lie awake fuming at night. Then I realized I could write them into the novel, and it felt so much better.”
An Luo: “I couldn’t touch them, but you could. So I had you give them a good lesson.”
“You might think it’s pointless… uh, yeah, it kinda is. But I had no other outlet—at least this let me vent.”
“No.” Meieruita lowered his gaze. “I don’t think it’s pointless at all.”
How could it not be?
