Roland was utterly curious about what made Su Mingyao so extraordinary. The young man looked so soft and fragile that Roland could knock him flat with a single punch.
He didn’t seem like the type who could shake an entire nation through sheer force. Could Su Mingyao be hiding some secret capable of destabilizing the Shenzhou Continent?
Something on the level of the Nine Tripods or the Qin Emperor’s Mausoleum…
As Roland posed his questions, Su Bingyao was wrestling with the same puzzle.
He drew in a deep breath.
If he revealed that Su Mingyao had returned from rebirth to the people before him, the nation would likely place him under protection. They would extract details about future events from him and use that knowledge to inform their strategies.
But doing so would prevent Su Mingyao from following the plot.
And that would provoke Luo Shang into action.
Would Luo Shang destroy the world and reset everything to the point before he had spoken to Roland?
Luo Shang didn’t yet know Su Mingyao was reborn. He had no idea that they knew Luo Shang had returned from the Reincarnation Space, nor that they were secretly aiding him in following the plot. What would happen if Luo Shang learned the truth?
Su Bingyao had no clue.
He didn’t dare gamble on that possibility.
Yet the nation’s agents had already shown up at the door, and they could clearly detect Su Mingyao’s anomaly.
What was he supposed to do now?
~~~
Luo Shang lounged in the living room, sipping freshly squeezed strawberry juice.
Shen Changqing had called for Aunt Zhao to prepare another pitcher, so he sat there with perfect confidence and entitlement, drinking away. Along the way, he instructed the System to mute Shen Changqing’s voice while projecting a TV series—downloaded from one of his previous worlds—directly onto his retina.
The next segment of the plot involved Shen Changqing hurling sarcastic barbs at him. There was no point in listening to any of that, so he simply tuned it out.
Blocked entirely.
Only when the System notified him that Shen Changqing had fallen silent did Luo Shang disable the mute and glance up.
“Done talking?”
[System: Done.]
Done! Shen Changqing exhaled in profound relief.
Finally, he could see this great god on his way!
Once Old Master Shen departed, it would be Shen Changqing’s moment to shine. He felt a twinge of nerves, forcing insults through clenched teeth in an attempt to needle Luo Shang—only to realize Luo Shang had muted him and was now engrossed in a TV series from another world.
Shen Changqing: …
Didn’t that mean he could say anything he liked? Luo Shang wasn’t hearing a word of it!
Still, even with Luo Shang tuned out, Shen Changqing didn’t dare lower his guard for an instant.
Because Luo Shang wasn’t alone—not in the biological sense, but because while Luo Shang might ignore him, his System steward remained online, watching with predatory intent!
Shen Changqing had overheard Luo Shang’s instruction to the System: remind him when this plot beat concluded. That meant his every move was still under surveillance.
Amid the misfortune, there was a silver lining. The System wasn’t Luo Shang. It was merely an anthropomorphic tool, one that adhered strictly to the plot script, hitting every cue.
While it played the TV series for Luo Shang, the full text of the script hovered nearby—ripe for peeking…
Thank goodness he’d always taken good care of his eyes, maintaining perfect 1.0 vision. Shen Changqing stole glances at the script while projecting an air of arrogance.
The only drawback was that staring sideways for too long might leave him cross-eyed… but such a trivial risk was nothing compared to his life on the line.
Of course, nailing the performance was its own challenge. Luo Shang could phone it in, reciting lines with casual indifference, because he had the clout to back it up. Shen Changqing even felt that Luo Shang’s involvement in this world was a profound act of slumming it—a criminal underuse of his talents.
If you have that kind of power, go conquer the world already. What are you doing losing it in a backwater like B City…
He truly couldn’t fathom the mindset of true powerhouses. With that thought, Shen Changqing continued peeking at the script, pouring his effort into the act. But the deeper he got into the performance, the more the lines chilled him to the bone.
Because the script the System displayed was exactly the sort of thing his personality would spew.
Had Luo Shang not already revealed his overwhelming anomaly and dominance, Shen Changqing really would have mocked him just like that… The realization sent cold sweat trickling down his back.
Talk about digging his own grave!
But the performance’s challenges didn’t end there. The TV series was a Projection from the System for Luo Shang, which meant Shen Changqing could see the content too.
What Luo Shang was doing was akin to watching cached comedy clips on a phone during spotty high-speed rail signal—no Spirit Net access here, so he unwound with his stored shows.
And this series from another world… to be precise, it was produced by the Myriad Worlds cross-realm media conglomerate “Bifrost” (named for the rainbow bridge in Norse Mythology that links Midgard to Asgard, the realm of the gods).
“Bifrost,” as one of the cross-realm companies, provided entertainment to tens of millions—or even billions—of species every year. They produced all sorts of TV dramas, movies, variety shows, and more, raking in Spirit Energy Points from the inhabitants of every world they could reach. Far more than a mere company, they resembled a formidable cross-realm power, adopting a corporate form simply for ease of understanding. Their headquarters occupied several small worlds as bases, and there were even rumors that one of the founders had achieved enlightenment in the Dao of “information.”
They couldn’t quite compare to the Reincarnation Space, but they far outstripped many civilizations and races across the Myriad Worlds. Their tracking of information copyrights spanned the Myriad Heavens, and players even joked about it:
“If you lose contact with the Reincarnation Space in some extremely remote little world and can’t get back, just draw a Bifrost company rainbow bridge logo on the ground. Their team of supernatural lawyers will track you down right away, fish you out, and file a lawsuit at the Neutral Tribunal!”
Even transcendent immortals would sneak a few glances at TV dramas produced by a company like that, let alone Shen Changqing!
The script lines and acting weren’t the biggest hurdles in his performance. Instead, it was the TV drama itself that captivated him completely.
The show was set in a plane that had just suffered an Abyss invasion. Through the thousand-year saga of joys and sorrows shared by an elven couple, it told the story of the plane’s native species after encountering the Abyss—and the various powers from the Myriad Worlds that followed in its wake.
The drama captured the plane’s rise and fall, exposing the ugly faces of the Myriad Worlds’ factions as they openly and covertly fought not to save the world, but to seize benefits for themselves. What could have been a simple tale of Abyss invasion unfolded into a grand historical epic.
Luo Shang’s faction, the Reincarnation Space, and its band of lunatic players appeared as the villains. The players showed no mercy toward Abyss-corrupted beings. Masters of slaughter and total annihilation, they never bothered distinguishing whether a creature tainted by the Abyss still retained any sanity. As long as the faintest trace of Abyss aura lingered, they’d kill it to be safe.
Of course, there had been some artistic license taken with the Reincarnation Space’s image, making it seem even more brutal and savage. The Main God overseeing the space had even sued them at the Neutral Tribunal over it and won damages for reputational harm. But overall, the portrayal of the players was quite realistic.
Luo Shang watched with rapt attention.
Meanwhile, Shen Changqing watched with equal fascination—but his cold sweat poured even harder.
So ruthless… so brutal…
Shen Changqing was deeply shaken by the actions of the Reincarnation Space players. After the shock came even greater caution and care in his own role-playing.
No wonder they’d come up with something as twisted as manipulating corpses. Those guys were utterly unscrupulous! Compared to the plot in the drama, Luo Shang’s behavior almost seemed normal.
At least he hadn’t just slaughtered Shen Changqing on the spot without a word. He’d only threatened to kill if the performance fell short.
The drama was full of twists and turns, with the protagonists’ destinies twisting in ways that gripped the heart. Their love only grew stronger through trial after trial.
Shen Changqing found himself utterly drawn in, desperate to see what happened next.
Luo Shang could watch the show without a care in the world, but Shen Changqing couldn’t. The System was still monitoring his plot-following performance, and he had to nail it perfectly to pass—which made the whole thing unbearably awkward and uncomfortable.
Can’t we stop watching the drama…? I’d rather you stare at me… Just stop watching…
The thought that he might never see how the drama ended made Shen Changqing’s skin crawl like ants marching across it.
He never imagined the day would come when he’d beg Luo Shang to watch him instead of something else.
To stretch out his performance time and snag more chances to watch, he dragged out his lines as much as possible, added little gestures and paces around the room. He even had Aunt Zhao bring in more snacks—including popcorn—to make Luo Shang’s viewing experience as cozy as possible.
But all good things had to come to an end.
When Shen Changqing delivered his final script line, a pang of loss hit him. He knew he had to bid farewell to the drama.
Through it, he’d glimpsed a far broader world beyond this one, teeming with even more existences.
At the same time, he finally understood why Luo Shang disliked this place.
It was too narrow for him.
One other detail nagged at Shen Changqing: Among the Reincarnation Space players depicted as villains, there was a human male character named Shang. This Shang bore a resemblance to Luo Shang in appearance and wielded powers of destruction and restoration. He even had a same-sex partner.
Luo Shang had rewatched Shang’s scenes several times.
Shen Changqing couldn’t shake the suspicion that this character had been modeled after Luo Shang. But he didn’t dare voice it aloud.
It was over.
[It ended.] Just as Shen Changqing delivered his final line, the System chimed in right on cue for Luo Shang.
[That’s it? Already over?] Luo Shang switched off the TV drama, a touch of reluctance lingering in his expression.
Shen Changqing, meanwhile, felt utterly adrift, a hollow sense of loss settling over him.
[Let me check the progress.]
[Hm, up from 19% to 25%? Not bad at all.]
Luo Shang’s voice carried a note of pleasant surprise.
Evidently, his hunch had paid off.
He rose to his feet, signaling his intent to leave. By all rights, Shen Changqing should have been itching to see the back of him. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, Luo Shang caught a flicker of reluctance in the man’s eyes.
[Gross.]
Luo Shang remarked.
Shen Changqing: ……
Enough already.
Still, he had to say it. “Aunt Zhao made way too much juice. Nobody here drinks it—you take it all.”
“Sure.” Luo Shang actually rather liked the flavor, so he didn’t mind lingering a moment longer.
But in that brief interlude, everything changed.
Su Mingyao stumbled in from the far side of the living room, staggering straight toward Shen Changqing—and the Luo Shang standing behind him.
System: [Wait… Oh no!]
At the System’s warning, Luo Shang heard a deeply ominous sound. The progress he’d just gained evaporated in an instant.
Luo Shang: ???
Why did this have to happen? He should have left right away, before Su Mingyao even showed up!
And so, in the very next second, Luo Shang destroyed the world.
