Zhang Yemiao couldn’t quite recall how she’d endured Wang Qi’s storm last night.

After her love confession, Wang Qi had turned feral—truly unrestrained. Only now did Zhang realize how gentle he’d been before.

Physical Enhancement was terrifyingly potent.

By the end, she’d lost all clarity… though admittedly, she’d insisted on pushing herself.

Now, Zhang Yemiao was on strike. Refusing to leave bed.

When Wang Qi called her, she merely shot him a glare and buried herself deeper under the covers.

Wang Qi ruffled her hair and headed to the forge.

*Clang. Clang. Clang.*

Only today did Zhang notice Wang Qi had somehow mastered blacksmithing. They’d trained together in forging—she’d assumed he’d neglected it to focus on body training. Yet his movements were fluid, practiced.

Hearing the rhythmic hammer strikes outside, Zhang’s heart fluttered.

*Could he really be better at this than me?* She’d studied smithing seriously. Though imbuing items relied on her Mastery of Objects, she’d personally shaped countless pieces…

She hesitated, then dragged herself out of bed.

Dressed, she rushed to Wang Qi’s side—and froze. His ironwork looked *better* than hers.

Zhang Yemiao deflated like a salted fish, her will to live crumbling. She limply wrapped her arms around Wang Qi’s sweat-dampened arm as he finished.

“Ugh… no fair! This is cheating~~~~” Her protest sounded like pure coquetry from Wang Qi’s perspective.

He chuckled, fondly tousling her hair. “I can’t imbue attributes, though.”

“You’ve barely practiced smithing, yet your results surpass mine… No attributes aside, if this were a real contest, I’d die of frustration!”

Her tone held zero reproach.

“Alright, alright—I surrender! How about I show off my cooking skills at lunch?”

Zhang’s eyes widened hopefully. “Really?”

“Really.”

Satisfied, she released his arm. Snatching the freshly forged iron block, she held out her palm. “Hand over the hammer. Trying to steal my XP?”

Wang Qi eyed her warily. “Are you sure your body can handle it?”

“After what you did last night?!”

“Well… wasn’t that because you—”

Zhang’s eyebrow shot up. She shook a fist under his nose—a clear *one more word and you’re dead*. Wang Qi wisely fell silent.

He passed her the hammer and stretched. “I’ll prep something tasty. Can’t match your Cooking Mastery, but it’ll do.” He stepped out.

The moment he left, the shadow seeped from the crimson bead.

“Seriously? You two went *all out* last night!” The shadow flickered unsteadily. “Right here in the living room… Gods, is Wang Qi even human? I’ve only heard rumors—never witnessed it firsthand…” She sounded utterly scandalized.

Zhang’s cheeks flushed. “Why not say that to his face?”

“No way! I’m scared he’ll get ideas. Even as just a soul, I’m still a maiden in my prime—and Wang Qi? Total horndog.”

Her form was clearer now than when she first appeared—less hazy, her voice sharper. Was her soul growing stronger?

Zhang waved dismissively. “Even if you resurrected in a steel body, you’d just be a doll. Wang Qi wouldn’t glance twice.” She smirked. “But your ‘older sister’—isn’t she the Holy Sect’s Saintess? Bet she’s never done *that*.”

“?”

The shadow rippled. “Honey, every church demands purity from their Saints and Saintesses!”

Zhang pouted. “Is *that* why you’re single? Or just bad personality… or looks?”

They’d grown familiar lately—though mutual teasing masked lingering tension from the soul-siphoning incident.

Casually, Zhang asked, “This Holy Sect you mentioned… which Deity do they worship?” No prying intent—just idle curiosity.

Silence.

*Secrets?* Zhang tucked the question away. Wang Qi likely knew more. He was probably using this shadow to scout the Holy Sect—gauging their growth, their methods. Especially with Li Pingtian involved.

That wanderer might be roaming the world, but Wang Qi never forgot her. Zhang suspected he was plotting something against the Holy Sect. How *did* one “create a god,” anyway?

*Tap-tap-tap.*

A bird-like creature fluttered at the window. Zhang opened it; the bird dissolved into two letters.

*Magic?*

“Arcane Magic—Carrier Pigeon Spell?” The shadow sounded shocked. “Who still uses this? A Sanctum Coin buys a Comm Crystal!”

*A Sanctum Coin?* Zhang smiled tightly. *Unaffordable.* Li Pingtian and Zou Moan probably couldn’t afford it either.

She examined the letters. The script was foreign—understandable, since she herself barely wrote this world’s characters. One envelope read: *For Wang Qi’s Eyes Only*. Li Pingtian’s handwriting. Zhang hesitated, then tucked it away for him.

She opened Zou Moan’s letter. Bragging about dominating battles, earning titles like “Peerless Prodigy of Her Realm”—though she scoffed at “Heaven’s Beloved Daughter,” her pride bled through the ink.

*Was there anyone in her league at that level?* Especially past Tier 3, mages became walking artillery. At max level, she might surpass even the Arcane Principality’s current “King of All Spells.”

Relieved they were safe, Zhang set the letter down.

“Aren’t you reading the other one?” the shadow teased. “Secret admirer? Rival in love?”

Zhang shot her a glare. “If so? Just a loser!” She pulled out Li Pingtian’s letter again, stared at it… then shoved it back unopened.

She returned to the forge, ignoring the shadow. After a while, the shadow retreated into the bead—though she couldn’t read anyway.

Linne materialized beside Zhang, watching her hammer iron with conflicted eyes. *An enemy. Wang Qi’s ally.*

*Could I capture her now? Use her as leverage to escape?* But one misstep, and the shadow would appear… Linne shuddered, recalling that day’s terror.

Zhang finished a part, exhaling as she turned—and froze at Linne’s presence.

Linne silently offered a damp towel.

Zhang took it, wiping her brow with a tired smile. “Thanks.”

Linne flinched back, snatching the towel away. Unchanged since last night, she vanished without a word.

“Not stupid, that one,” the shadow murmured, reappearing. “You were wide open. Yet she didn’t strike. Odd.”

Zhang frowned. “Strike? What are you talking about?”

The shadow studied her—though formless, her gaze felt sharp. “Lately I’ve wondered: are you clever or clueless? You hide secrets in the items you forge for me… yet miss obvious dangers.”

*She knew?* Zhang’s face burned. Sabotaging commissions was shameful—but she still wouldn’t redo them. She didn’t trust this shadow.

“I’m smithing!” Zhang forced the subject change. *Too easy to be outmaneuvered by this scheming woman.* She focused on the anvil, cheeks hotter than the furnace.

The shadow drifted outside. Wang Qi crouched there, skinning a rabbit-like beast.

“Don’t trust me?” he grinned, far thicker-skinned than Zhang. “Just caught dinner.” He stood, heading for the door. “Stealing a break—oops, caught.”

His hand rested on the doorframe. He turned, smiling back at the shadow. “Don’t tell my Yemiao.”

*Don’t tell my Yemiao?*

*About what?*

The shadow lashed out—a gray tendril spearing through a tree trunk. She *hated* dealing with Wang Qi. Ruthless. Cunning.

“Here!” She hurled Li Pingtian’s letter. “Your Ping Tian’s letter!”

“You didn’t peek?”

“Bastard! Would *you* hide things from me?”

“Wouldn’t dare.”