He watched as she studied her reflection for a moment longer before turning away. Her readiness was palpable. He gave a slight nod and began scanning the multiverse for a suitable realm. Random assignment? That was for lazy systems and their complacent Taskers. For his host, only the most optimal realm would do – one where the challenges perfectly matched her burgeoning power, accelerating her accumulation of Soul Energy and Spiritual Power. The Points would naturally flow more generously there too. While Points were useful, the true foundation of ascension lay in amassing Soul Energy and Spiritual Power – the three rewards intertwined seamlessly, never conflicting.
Jun Qingcheng returned his nod, a silent affirmation. Ready.
Yan Ling’s fingers danced across the shimmering holographic interface, tapping, swiping, expanding potential realms to scrutinize their details. The ends of his long hair, bound near his heels with a simple red ribbon, whispered softly against the floor with his movements. As he meticulously searched, Jun Qingcheng observed him with equal intensity.
Realm Confirmed. Initiating Transfer. Host, Prepare for Transit.Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven...
The world dissolved and reformed in an instant. Yan Ling’s voice, laced with concern, echoed in her mind. "Host, report any adverse effects?" First-time transfers often brought dizziness or nausea, though he’d calibrated this jump for maximum stability. Still, protocol demanded he ask. Feedback was crucial for future adjustments.
Jun Qingcheng felt only a momentary shift, like a blink stretched too long. "No discomfort," she replied. His meticulous caution earned a flicker of approval within her. She was solid, corporeal now. Yan Ling remained within the system space, she sensed, likely bound by its rules. She dismissed the thought for now.
Her hand still held a silver fork, poised over a half-eaten breakfast. She seamlessly resumed eating, her expression betraying nothing of the recent upheaval. A butler stood nearby, overseeing silent maids as they cleaned. The vast dining table held only her place setting.
Transmit Realm Data Now? Yan Ling queried.
"Hold," she commanded mentally. The butler seemed to be waiting. Uncertain of her schedule or identity here, she needed to avoid disruption or suspicion. She adopted a vague, testing tone. "How long before we depart?"
The butler consulted a discreet timepiece. "You have fifteen minutes remaining, Miss. Please, take your time. The car is ready; punctuality is assured." He offered only the requested timeframe, revealing nothing more.
"Understood," she murmured aloud. To Yan Ling: "Proceed."
Data Stream Commencing. Standby, Host.
A torrent of fragmented memories, saturated with searing rage and bottomless hatred, crashed over Jun Qingcheng.
Xiao Ranran. Daughter of privilege. Motherless child. Craved affection, yearned for friendship, dreamed of love. Introverted, obedient. Her sole anchor: Feng Qianyu, a fiercely protective, outwardly cold friend.
The Encounter: Rescued from street thugs by the aloof, striking Ji Kai. Gratitude bloomed into infatuation. Feng Qianyu warned her, repeatedly, urgently: Stay away from Ji Kai. Xiao Ranran, blinded by adolescent infatuation, dismissed her concerns. She knew her father was a businessman, unaware of the sprawling criminal empire he truly commanded.
The Trap: Ji Kai meticulously cultivated her affection. Young and naive, Xiao Ranran believed love conquered all. When her family forbade the relationship, she rebelled, choosing Ji Kai. She imagined a life filled with his devotion.
The Betrayal: Kidnapped. Her captors demanded her father come alone to a mountain rendezvous for her release. Xiao Yuan complied. They lied. They had already defiled her before he arrived. Xiao Yuan, anticipating treachery, had backup – but Ji Kai’s men were ready, turning the ambush into a slaughter. Xiao Yuan died.
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The Revelation: Adrift and shattered, Xiao Ranran stumbled upon the truth: the kidnappers acted on Ji Kai’s orders. She fled, desperate, seeking sanctuary with Feng Qianyu. "Ji Kai is hunting me! Please, hide me!" she begged. But sanctuary was another trap. Within moments, Ji Kai’s men stormed in. And Xiao Ranran watched, paralyzed, as her fiercely protective friend, Feng Qianyu, met her terrified gaze with icy indifference. The coldness wasn't disappointment over her defiance; it was something far more profound. Feng Qianyu turned to Ji Kai and uttered a single, shattering word: "Brother."
The Descent: Struck dumb, beyond tears or pleas, Xiao Ranran was dragged away. With Xiao Yuan dead, old enemies sought vengeance on his daughter. Ji Kai imprisoned her in a secluded villa, a gift to his enemies and anyone else who fancied tormenting the fallen heiress. It became a place without day or night, where cruelty arrived on a whim. The relentless abuse broke her spirit. To prevent escape or suicide, guards watched her every moment. The mere sound of an approaching car became a trigger for terror, always ending in despairing agony. Death was denied; Ji Kai kept her barely alive, a living vessel for suffering. One desperate escape led her to a kind stranger, a young man who believed her story, saw her wounds, tried to help. They were caught. He was beaten savagely. He reported it to the police, stammering, lacking details, unable to name her. The case went nowhere. Xiao Ranran descended further into the abyss, body and soul ravaged, until she finally perished in that cesspit of depravity.
Jun Qingcheng stood abruptly, her borrowed hands trembling uncontrollably. The raw, suffocating emotions of Xiao Ranran’s final moments threatened to overwhelm her control. It took a conscious, forceful effort, aided by Yan Ling’s calming presence in her mind, to push the tide back and reclaim the body.
"Miss? Are you quite alright?" The butler’s voice held concern. He’d seen her sudden pallor, the violent tremors. "Are you ill? Should I summon the doctor? Your father is away, I must ensure—"
"Fine," Jun Qingcheng interrupted, her voice regaining its steady cadence. She knew the schedule now. School. To the lingering ghost of Xiao Ranran, she made a silent vow: Your Soul Energy is accepted. Your tormentors will pay. In blood. The residual fury subsided, leaving her fully in command. She moved with practiced ease towards the waiting car.
The butler saw her off, instructing the driver to proceed to a hospital immediately if she felt unwell, before returning to his duties. Settling into the plush leather seat, school bag beside her, Jun Qingcheng pressed a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. She had navigated the darkest corners of the underworld leading the Jun family. Yet, the sheer, calculated sadism of Xiao Ranran’s ordeal ignited a cold fury. Old grudges? Fine. Kill her. But this... this prolonged, systematic annihilation of a soul? Why?
Xiao Ranran’s Vengeance:
- Feng Qianyu: Die in agony.
- Ji Kai: Meet a wretched end.
- All who defiled her: Pay the price.
- If possible: Save Xiao Yuan.
So many targets. Even with Jun Qingcheng’s formidable memory, the faces blurred – the initial kidnappers, the endless parade of monsters in the villa... Xiao Ranran’s traumatized mind hadn’t cataloged them all.
"Don't fret," Yan Ling's voice soothed within her mind. "Actions leave echoes. I'll use system access. We'll cross-reference criminal databases, surveillance fragments, financial trails... I'll compile a comprehensive list. Every single one."
Jun Qingcheng visualized Yan Ling within their shared mental space – and her eyebrow twitched. Not because of his presence, but his location. He was sprawled casually across her bed. The system space might be shared, but its current manifestation was her sanctuary, her room, her bed. In her mind, it was unequivocally her territory.
Yan Ling, misinterpreting her reaction, self-consciously adjusted his already modest white collar. His long hair fanned out behind him, the bound ends shifting subtly with his movement. He couldn't fathom what faux pas he'd committed; he was merely existing.
Get. Off. My. Bed. The mental command was a whip-crack of pure, icy fury.
The driver, sensing the sudden, palpable shift in the young mistress's aura – a chilling intensity that made the back of his neck prickle – instinctively eased off the accelerator, focusing on making the ride as smooth and unobtrusive as possible.
Yan Ling heard the command. He shot off the bed like a scalded cat, putting a good three feet between himself and the offending piece of furniture. He hadn't anticipated this level of territorial possessiveness. The room was hers, yes, but it was theirs! The system space! Chastened, he slunk to a nearby ornate chair. His gaze then fell upon a small, elegant chaise lounge tucked in a corner. Hope flickered.
"Could I... perhaps... claim this?" he ventured tentatively, the bed incident seemingly forgotten.
Jun Qingcheng, still simmering, was tempted to refuse. The space was shared, she conceded grudgingly. Exiling him entirely was impractical. But her possessiveness remained a coiled serpent. After a long, silent moment of internal debate, a single, terse syllable echoed back.
"Fine."
It was a concession, minimal and reluctant. He could have the chaise. That was his allotted territory. For now.