Chapter 7

Yu Luo tightened the dagger hidden behind her back, inching forward with extreme caution.  

Hearing the footsteps nearby, Wen Miao grew furious. “Didn’t I tell you not to disturb me?”  

That voice, so eerily similar to her sister’s, only fueled Yu Luo’s rage and resolve.  

Wen Miao gave Yu Luo a once-over and asked, “Who are you? I don’t recall seeing you before.”  

Yu Luo clenched her teeth, barely restraining herself from striking immediately.  

“I’m a new servant,” Yu Luo replied.  

Wen Miao barely spared her a glance. “In that case, leave. Don’t bother me.”  

“Understood, Miss,” Yu Luo said.  

She turned to leave, but at the last moment, when Wen Miao wasn’t looking, she lunged with the dagger.  

Determination flashed in Yu Luo’s eyes—but in that critical instant, an invisible force of gravity suddenly crushed down on her, slamming her to the ground.  

Wen Miao pulled out a glove—the source of the overwhelming gravity.  

A Contaminant…  

Wen Miao had one too, and hers was of a higher grade.  

With a mocking smirk, Wen Miao said, “The moment you walked in, I thought you looked familiar. But it doesn’t matter—I don’t care to know. Just another fool seeking revenge.”  

“Sparing your lives was mercy enough. Yet you still dare to cross me.”  

She raised her voice toward the door. “Guards!”  

Several servants hurried in. Wen Miao gestured dismissively. “Lock her up. I’ll deal with her later.”  

“Yes, Young Miss,” they chorused.  

Satisfied, Wen Miao returned to applying her makeup. Even without it, her face was stunning—but she wanted to dazzle everyone even more.  

“Keep it quiet when you handle her,” she added. “There’s an interview coming up—live broadcast.”  

As a prodigy with a prestigious background and countless accolades, Wen Miao was undeniably fascinating.  

The interview was for a renowned show called *Genius Chronicles*, a nationally popular program. She had worked hard for this opportunity and wouldn’t let her live debut be ruined.  

A servant bowed gracefully. “We’ll be discreet, Miss. You have nothing to worry about.”  

Half an hour later, the broadcast team arrived, and Wen Miao went to greet them.  

The servants opened the door, and the host and cameraman stepped inside.  

“Viewers, this is the Wen residence,” the host announced. “And standing before us is the young lady of the family—Wen Miao!”  

[Ahhhh! It’s Wen Miao! I know her—she’s incredible! My mom always tells me to learn from her!]  

[Wen Miao is so gorgeous—she could be a celebrity with that face!]  

Reading the comments, Wen Miao smirked inwardly.  

No—this face *was* a celebrity’s.  

Obtaining it had cost her dearly.  

But the thought of her original face darkened her expression for a fleeting moment.  

The host beamed. “Miss Wen, it’s an honor to interview you. You’re the renowned prodigy of Haishi.”  

Wen Miao smiled modestly. “Titles are meaningless. I’d prefer if you treated me like anyone else.”

The barrage immediately filled with praises for Wen Miao.

【As expected of Wen Miao, so talented yet so humble.】

【The Wen family is among the top 100 enterprises in the country. If only I were Wen Miao!】

【Damn, Wen Miao’s skin is so fair.】

【Her figure is amazing, so enviable.】

【Doesn’t anyone love her voice? It’s absolutely mesmerizing.】

Countless flattering comments flooded the screen, lifting Wen Miao’s spirits once more. A perfectly poised smile graced her face, as gentle and refined as the finest jade.

Locked in her room by the servants, Yu Luo couldn’t help but burst into laughter upon hearing these words.

This world was truly absurd. Someone like Wen Miao, who had committed countless wrongs—stealing talents, appearances, and achievements from others—was now swimming in wealth and basking in glory. Meanwhile, pitiful souls like them could pour in endless effort yet never receive what they rightfully deserved.

How laughable.

At the Yu residence, Yu Fanlian checked her phone repeatedly, but no message arrived.

Yu Luo had told her that if the plan succeeded, she would receive a text by 9 p.m. But now, well past the hour, her inbox remained empty.

A *ding* sounded—a message had arrived.

Yu Fanlian’s heart leaped, only to freeze in the next instant.

It wasn’t her brother’s message confirming his safety. It was spam.

She waited another ten minutes, but still, there was no response.

Yu Fanlian knew something had gone wrong. Frantic, she wheeled herself out to find Yu Luo.

She located the servant who had been their inside contact, only to be told: the operation had failed. Everything was over. Yu Luo would die.

Her head spun, and she nearly toppled from her wheelchair.

What had she just heard? What did they mean by “everything was over”? What did they mean her brother Yu Luo would *die*?

Her heart pounded violently. She wanted to demand answers from the servant, but her throat burned too painfully to utter a word.

Why? Why had it come to this?

In agony, Yu Fanlian turned her gaze toward the Wen estate.

Inside, reporters continued interviewing Wen Miao.

There she stood, holding what was never rightfully hers, poised and dignified before the cameras, basking in the cheers of an oblivious audience.

Meanwhile, the true victims would die without reclaiming what was theirs, even sacrificing their dearest loved ones.

Why? *Why* did it have to be this way?

Why did *they* have to suffer everything? What sin had they committed to deserve such treatment? They had been so close to vengeance—only to watch helplessly as their hopes slipped away at the final moment.

Why had everything they’d spent over a decade striving for been snatched away by Wen Miao in a single night? Even their cries of despair were silenced!

Yu Fanlian wept bitterly, her hoarse screams tearing from a throat that had long been voiceless, like the wails of a vengeful spirit.

“Why… *why*… is… this… happening?”

At Xucheng Central Hospital, Xi Le had been swamped these past few days, tormented by an exam that had left him half-dead by the time it was over.

He yawned.

Ah, the allure of a life spent toiling endlessly for so little reward.

Finally back home, Xi Le checked the bed to make sure no Tiny People had accidentally climbed onto it. After confirming, he immediately collapsed into sleep.

In his drowsy state, Xi Le once again sensed an overwhelming surge of despair.

“Why?”

“Why are you doing this to us?”

“…”

“We just want to take back what rightfully belongs to us!”

“…”

The chattering voices were like annoying sparrows, forcing Xi Le to wearily open his eyes.

Why did people always pray to him during his sleep? Sleep deprivation was deadly.

Yet despite his exhaustion, he carefully listened to the prayers.

From Yu Fanlian’s supplications, he pieced together the general situation.

He ran a hand through his messy hair and slowly got up.

Then, he noticed a Tiny People City had appeared on a table before him.

The miniature city was filled with various buildings, with light rail systems carrying tiny inhabitants through its streets.

The entire Tiny People City resembled a vast, bustling dollhouse, each tiny figure like an animated toy.

The city looked familiar to Xi Le. He searched his memory and quickly recognized it—this was Haishi, the most prosperous city in Lan Country.

The voices he heard were coming from what appeared to be an extravagant tiny villa in Haishi.

His gaze was immediately drawn to one particular Tiny Person in the villa.

Xi Le noticed multicolored threads swirling around the tiny figure—rainbow-hued strands, each connected to another person at its other end.

The sight of these threads filled Xi Le with intense discomfort, making him deeply agitated.

Exhaling, Xi Le began unraveling each thread from the tiny figure, sending them back to their original owners.

Xi Le was growing increasingly accustomed to his identity as the Crimson Moon, handling such matters with effortless ease.

At that very moment, Yu Fanlian and others in despair suddenly felt an invisible pressure descend from above.

Under this oppressive force, she found herself completely immobilized.

Fear and excitement mingled in Yu Fanlian’s eyes.

What had descended upon them?

Had she summoned it?

Whatever it was—even if it were a demon, even if it cost her life—she would gladly pay any price if it made Wen Miao suffer!

A crimson light suddenly enveloped them.

Yu Fanlian closed her eyes, prepared to offer her life as sacrifice.

But after one minute… then two… she remained conscious. Still alive.

Was this a dream?

Yu Fanlian opened her eyes. “What’s happening?”

A clear voice resonated in her ears.

Her pupils contracted as her fingers flew to her throat.

How could she speak again?

And…

The wounds were gone—as if they’d never existed.

Her voice… had returned?

Meanwhile, as Xi Le finished unraveling the threads, he realized these were the very strands Wen Miao had used to steal others’ talents—their Awakening Power.

The moment these threads were severed, Wen Miao’s stolen powers became void.

Simultaneously, across Haishi, countless people who had lost their talents, appearances, or skills to Wen Miao suddenly regained what was rightfully theirs.

In the city of Haishi, a man stood by a small river.  

He was once a renowned pianist in the Blue Kingdom, but half a year ago, his piano skills seemed to vanish completely. He could no longer recognize the keys, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never return to his former level.  

Disheartened, the man decided to jump into the river. But just then, a strange sensation surged through his body—the lost talent for piano, long gone, suddenly reappeared in his mind.  

Staring at his hands in disbelief, he murmured, “This… what is this?”  

Countless others shared the same experience.  

“My face… my face is back!”  

“Oh my god, I can dance again!”  

Everything that had once belonged to them had returned.  

Though separated by great distances, Yu Fanlian seemed to hear those excited voices.  

Tears welled up in her eyes, streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks. She couldn’t help but raise her head to the sky, clasping her hands together in front of her.  

That crimson light from earlier—it wasn’t the mark of a demon. It was the color of a god descending!  

A god had come to redeem them.