Chapter Thirty-Three: Adding Insult to Injury to an Already Modest Beauty

The engine roared.

The speed soared higher and higher, the scenery outside the car window transforming into a surge of colorful currents flashing by at breakneck pace.

Lin Liuli wore sunglasses, her foot pressing manically on the gas pedal.

She intended to use the thrill to soothe her turbulent emotions.

Family...

Suddenly, she felt envious of Du Fang.

Even if his family was but a fabrication, they were still family—a place for the soul to rest.

Unlike her, who, every time she returned home, was greeted only by cold darkness and endless solitude.

She gave up trying to recruit Du Fang.

Because Lin Liuli knew very well what awaited Du Fang should he join the organization.

The organization’s target was not Du Fang, but Luo Luo—the monster they called the “Fallen God.”

Once inside, Du Fang would inevitably fall under their control. If he obeyed, all would be well; if not, the organization might even strip Luo Luo from his will.

Lin Liuli had been adopted by one of the organization’s high-ranking members long ago, after her parents died from dream demons.

In truth, she understood perfectly: she was only adopted because of her unique constitution, surviving a dream disaster alone.

She was nothing more than a tool.

Her unique body could contain the “Fallen God.” That was the true reason she’d been adopted.

A sudden laugh broke the silence. “Heh heh… ‘Vermilion Bird,’ you actually let him go?”

The voice came from the back seat.

Immersed in memories and the rush of the drive, Lin Liuli’s pupils contracted sharply, every hair on her body standing on end.

She slammed her foot on the gas; the car spun on the spot, tires screeching as they drifted and turned.

After several revolutions, the car finally came to a halt.

“Don’t be nervous. I’m here on orders from the High Priest.”

The teasing voice sounded again from the back.

Through the rearview mirror, Lin Liuli saw that at some point, a man in a hoodie and a monkey mask had appeared in the back seat.

“So, you’re the ‘Monkey King’?” Lin Liuli’s tone was cool.

“That’s right. The organization doesn’t trust you, so they sent me. Didn’t expect to see such a drama unfold right here in your car.”

“Tsk tsk, Vermilion Bird, you’ve changed. Have you forgotten the oath we took together in the organization, our dream to bring balance to the world?”

The masked man’s words dripped with mockery.

“I simply think it’s not the right time to bring him in,” Lin Liuli replied blandly. “Besides, I don’t need you meddling in my work.”

“Get out.”

The Monkey King cackled. “Tsk tsk, so tough—as expected of a woman who’s merged with a ‘miniature divine core’…”

“The real target is a true Fallen God. If you think the time isn’t ripe for this mission, then let me… speed things up for you!”

“As for the credit, I’ll be taking half!”

“To personally welcome the awakening and return of a Fallen God—what an honor that would be!”

His laughter grew wilder, bordering on fanaticism.

Lin Liuli frowned, about to speak.

But the Monkey King had already opened the window, leaping out with the agility of a primate and vanishing into the night, his voice echoing like a monkey’s cry in the forest:

“La la la la, don’t try to stop me—you can’t!”

Watching the Monkey King disappear in an instant, Lin Liuli pressed her lips together and murmured to herself,

“I’m not trying to stop you. I’m only trying to warn you…”

“Act recklessly…”

“And you’ll die.”

…

Jiangling City.

Snack Street.

The glow of the setting sun bathed everything in a rosy light.

In front of the roast duck shop's glass window, Du Fang squatted on the ground. Beside him, Luo Luo hugged her pink pig plush, Kiki, squatting as well.

One big, one small, both stared intently at the slowly turning roast ducks, bathed in the fire’s glow behind the glass.

The dripping fat,

The crispy golden skin,

The rich, mouthwatering aroma…

All of it made Du Fang and Luo Luo swallow hungrily.

“Luo Luo, is this the roast duck you wanted to eat?” Du Fang asked, pointing at the ducks in the window.

“Mm-hmm!” Luo Luo nodded vigorously, hugging Kiki tight.

Du Fang stood up, feeling a rush of generosity.

He turned to the owner with a broad smile: “Boss, two roast ducks—to go!”

Flush with commission money, Du Fang was feeling expansive.

Luo Luo bounced with joy.

She dragged Du Fang through the snack street, her eyes shining at all the delicious treats, her mouth watering uncontrollably.

Even the pink pig Kiki in her arms bounced up and down, so shaken that it, too, seemed to shed a sorrowful tear.

“Daddy, I want this!” Luo Luo cried.

“Boss, stinky tofu to go.”

“Daddy, what’s this?”

“Boss, twenty skewers of grilled squid!”

“Daddy, this one!”

“Boss, three orders of takoyaki.”

“Daddy, is this ice cream?”

“Boss, two cones of ice cream, please.”

“Daddy, daddy…”

“To go, to go—pack it all up!”

…

Luo Luo ran wild with delight through the snack street, with Du Fang behind her, his arms laden with bags of food.

Even though others couldn’t see Luo Luo, believing her to be an illusion, something that didn’t exist—

Du Fang didn’t care. All that mattered was Luo Luo’s happiness.

If he could make her happy, what more could he ask?

Seeing Luo Luo grinning from ear to ear, Du Fang’s eyes softened.

“Wife, do you want something to eat?” he asked.

“Oh, I forgot—you don’t have a mouth…”

The hand of his wife, spider-like and perched on his shoulder, raised a slender, elegant middle finger.

Du Fang felt a little awkward—but, his wife was so sassy.

He thought for a moment, then went to a jewelry stall and bought a simple ring.

He slipped it onto the middle finger of his wife’s hand.

The hand splayed its fingers, moving side to side, as if admiring itself with joy.

Finally, the thumb and forefinger crossed to form a heart.

Du Fang’s smile blossomed.

He glanced at Luo Luo, running ahead with Kiki, and then at the lovely hand making a heart.

This was what family was—warmth found in these simple moments.

Under the setting sun, Du Fang trudged along, loaded with bags, Luo Luo trailing behind, his wife’s hand perched on his shoulder.

Together, laughing and talking, they made their way home.

Even the sunset seemed to grow warmer.

…

Dream Passage Tower.

Sixteenth floor.

In the room belonging to Zhang Changlin.

Eyes tightly shut, Zhang Changlin slowly opened them, a trace of delight flickering deep within.

All the black substance acquired from the double dream disaster had been successfully integrated!

Most importantly, Zhang Changlin felt that, after fusing with the black substance, his connection to Forbidden Device Sequence-098 seemed even closer.

“What on earth is this black substance?” Zhang Changlin took a deep breath.

In the Dreamwalker Association’s records of dream disaster spoils, nothing like this black substance had ever been noted.

“This stuff was originally used to imprison that hand…”

“Perhaps, until now, no Dreamwalker ever paid it any real attention.”

“It’s sticky, and the taste… is actually pretty good.”

“I wonder where I can find more…”

“If I could get ten or fifteen pounds of it and eat it, maybe I could surpass upper-ranked Dreamwalkers and become a city-level powerhouse.”

Zhang Changlin stretched, his eyes full of lingering satisfaction and anticipation.

With the help of the black substance, he felt his strength had grown once again; his dream-spirit intensity had climbed another level.

This meant his combat power was stronger than ever!

He even dared to imagine: if he fought with all he had, perhaps he could barely touch city-level strength now.

As for the higher, national level—he didn’t even bother dreaming about that.

National-level Dreamwalkers were all monsters.

He got up and left his closed-door retreat.

Night had fallen completely, and the lights were off.

Just as he stepped out, his foot landed on an empty liquor bottle, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

Cursing, Zhang Changlin stood and gave the bottle a kick.

It bounced off the wall, ricocheted back, and smacked him on the head, drawing blood from his scalp.

Zhang Changlin: “…”

What was going on?

Was he possessed by the god of bad luck?

That black substance… was toxic! After refining it, his luck seemed to have gotten even worse.

The commotion woke Su Jiuming, who was dozing melancholically at the bar.

With a click, Su Jiuming turned on the light.

Seeing Zhang Changlin’s bleeding head, Su Jiuming’s sleepy eyes instantly cleared.

Because Zhang Changlin’s face was pitch black—

Like a man smeared with soot, a tribal chief just back from Africa.

Su Jiuming exclaimed with glee, “Little Lin, how did your face turn black?!”

“As if your already modest looks weren’t bad enough!”

PS: Monday’s early update, just for those fresh recommendation and monthly votes~