Chapter Thirty-Four: Congratulations, Your Bond with Your Daughter (Luoluo) Has Reached 80

Zhang Changlin stared at himself in the mirror.

His face was pitch-black—not quite as dark as if ink had been smeared over it, but still... exceptionally dark. What little handsomeness he possessed had vanished completely in the shadow of that blackened visage. From this day forward, whenever he saw the dashing Du Fang, even the tiniest bit of identification he could muster would be gone forever.

"Why has it come to this..."

Zhang Changlin felt his heart bleeding.

Was this the price he had to pay for growing stronger? How cruel! He scrubbed his face vigorously with a cloth, scraping off a layer of grime, yet the darkness wouldn’t fade. He emptied half a bottle of facial cleanser, but all it accomplished was giving his black face a slight sheen.

"That black substance... has such side effects? As expected, there’s no such thing as getting stronger for nothing!"

"This world is fair—always about equal exchange."

Zhang Changlin was deeply sorrowful.

Gaining strength should have been a joyous thing, yet he couldn’t bring himself to celebrate. As Su Nine Lives had said, this blackened face made his already scarce attractiveness even more pitiful. He was looking more and more like an African chieftain. Worse still, his luck seemed to be suffering along with his appearance.

The flavor of misfortune grew ever more pure.

"Captain Zhang, don’t be sad. Looks can’t feed you; let it go," Su Nine Lives said, twirling a white rose and grinning as he comforted Zhang Changlin.

"A real man shouldn’t be hung up on looks. That sort of thing only fools young girls. True men are strong on the inside."

Su Nine Lives had a knack for consoling others. After all, his tongue was ever eloquent.

Zhang Changlin cast him a glum glance. "Old Su, do you think Little Du is attractive?"

"Yes," Su answered.

"If Little Du and I fell into the water together, who would you save first?"

"Little Du!" Su replied after barely a fraction of a second’s thought.

Zhang Changlin turned his head away, covering his mouth in grief.

A man’s words are never to be trusted.

"Captain Zhang, I’ve already given the team badge and invitation letter to Du Fang. He knows about the upcoming Dreamwalker Newcomer Invitational," Su Nine Lives said, stretching lazily. He’d drunk plenty of liquor and whispered many secrets to Du Fang; he was feeling sleepy.

"Good. Starting tomorrow, give Du Fang and Chen Xi some special training. Chen Xi’s alright, but Du Fang is only an intern Dreamwalker... For the Dreamwalker Newcomer Invitational, it’ll be hard for him to even make the top sixteen."

"At least he represents the face of our Wildfire team; just don’t let him lose too badly," Zhang Changlin said, smearing more cleanser on his face as he spoke to the mirror.

"Little Du has unlimited dream spirits, and his forbidden artifact isn’t bad either—he still has a shot at the top sixteen," Su Nine Lives began to defend Du Fang.

"Heh, whether Du Fang can make the top sixteen I don’t know, but you need to focus more on your cultivation. This year’s National Dreamwalker Tournament... there are plenty of monsters. If you want the forbidden artifact reward, Sequence-103, and hope to use it to track down the dream demon organization that killed your sister, you’ll have to work hard," Zhang Changlin snorted coldly.

It hadn’t been long—yet Su Nine Lives’ loyalties were already drifting toward Du Fang.

And he claimed looks didn’t matter! All the treacheries of the world gather upon a single face!

Su Nine Lives fell silent.

Zhang Changlin rinsed off the cleanser, turned to find a towel, but somehow, a bar of soap had appeared underfoot. He squinted, stepped right onto it...

A shrill cry, then he slipped and fell.

His head struck the sink countertop.

Blood flowed once again.

The bathroom, infamous for its high mortality rate... proved its reputation.

...

...

"Ding~ Thirteenth floor, arriving."

Accompanied by the elevator's gentle electronic female voice, Du Fang returned home, arms laden with bags.

He fixed a hot cup of milk for Luoluo, then collapsed onto the sofa for a bit of rest.

Today had been exhausting.

He’d planned to report to the Wildfire team, but ended up hurriedly participating in a dream disaster raid. Even though he’d played only a minor role, upon returning to the Dreamwalker Tower, he’d chatted extensively with Su Nine Lives, learning a few basics about the Dreamwalker domain. Finally, he’d gone shopping with Luoluo and his wife’s hand.

Today had been truly fulfilling.

Du Fang sank into the sofa, eyes wandering.

...

Family bond (Luoluo): 80/100 (↑)

...

Family bond (Yaya): 70/100 (↑)

...

This trip to the food street had also changed the family bond values. Luoluo’s bond rose for the first time to eighty points—the highest ever. As for Yaya, his wife’s hand, the bond increased ten points thanks to the ring, though still short of eighty.

[Congratulations, your family bond with your daughter (Luoluo) has reached 80]

[You have gained the right to use your daughter (Luoluo)’s little pig plushie. If the bond drops below 80, usage rights will be revoked]

Just as Du Fang was basking in the sense of accomplishment at the rise of his family bond, a notification popped up on his retina.

Du Fang paused, then his face lit up with surprise.

As expected! The increase in family bond brought its own benefits.

Though Luoluo seemed like a darling angel in Du Fang’s eyes, he knew better—from the way Chen Xi and the assistant had been terrified after meeting Luoluo, he had a clear sense of reality.

Who knew how terrifying Luoluo’s true form really was!

Thus, Luoluo’s power must be formidable.

Perhaps, if the family bond rose even higher, he could borrow more of Luoluo’s power?

Then, Du Fang would no longer be a fake bearer of infinite dream spirits—he’d be the real deal.

Indeed, his daughter was the golden finger that fate had given him!

Clinging to his daughter’s leg, Du Fang felt no shame whatsoever.

His daughter’s strength, rounded up, was his own strength.

"Luoluo’s little pig plushie... that pink pig, right?" Du Fang muttered, feeling a bit disappointed.

What use was the right to a pig plushie that couldn’t move?

Was he supposed to throw the pink pig into battle, shouting,

Piggy, move on your own!

You’re a grown-up piggy now, you need to learn to fight by yourself!

Imagining the scene, Du Fang couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

"Daddy, what are you laughing at?" Luoluo asked, having finished her hot milk, a dab of milk still on her lips, staring in confusion at Du Fang’s pig-like laughter.

Meanwhile, the little pig plushie, Qiqi, in Luoluo’s arms, fixed its piggy eyes on Du Fang with a gloomy stare.

It seemed to sense the malice emanating from its master!

The wife’s hand perched on Du Fang’s shoulder seemed to pick up on his thoughts.

The index finger pointed up, waving side to side.

Then, spider-like, it crawled down Du Fang’s arm, across the sofa, and over to Luoluo.

That hand suddenly clenched at the little pig plushie Qiqi resting in Luoluo’s lap.

It grabbed a handful of pigskin and twisted hard!

"Ooink!" A miserable piggy squeal exploded in Luoluo’s arms.

Luoluo jumped in fright, instantly annoyed, and began slapping Qiqi’s belly.

"Gluttonous pig, why are you squealing!"

"Mama pinches you, you should squeal with joy!"

Qiqi: "〒▽〒..."

Once a god... now just a pig.

Can’t you lower your expectations?

Du Fang, slumped on the sofa, was momentarily stunned.

He turned in bewilderment, looking at the pouting, unhappy Luoluo, and the wife’s hand making a heart gesture at him.

Finally, his gaze landed on the squealing, aggrieved pink pig plushie, Qiqi.

Du Fang: "???"

This pig...

Is it alive?!

PS: It’s Monday—please, everyone, spare a recommendation vote!