Zhou Jiuyu suppressed the urge to make a snarky remark and calmly took the key.

After all, nations no longer existed in this world. Ninety-nine mega united cities now housed 99.999% of humanity. So… running into someone named Akizuki Kozo wasn’t *that* strange.

“Oh, by the way,” Akizuki Kozo added with an apologetic smile, “my two daughters live here too. They went out today and won’t return until evening. My younger daughter, Airi… well, she’s got a bit of a fiery temper. Please bear with her, Mr. Zhou.”

Wait—*Airi*? Don’t tell me it’s Akizuki Airi?!

Before Zhou Jiuyu could ask, Akizuki Kozo bowed deeply. “I’ll take my leave then.”

Zhou stood speechless. *Is this world seriously this messed up?*

…Though honestly, having an Akizuki Airi around wouldn’t be so bad.

A faint smile curved his lips.

He’d transmigrated—time to grind hard, seize power, and rest amidst beauties!

No way was he becoming a lazy, good-for-nothing salted fish. If he had to be one? A salted fish *with dreams*. Hey, dreaming hurt no one.

Upstairs, door open, room found, luggage dropped—he stretched with a yawn. *Dream it is!*

After all, turning his salted-fish life around truly *did* depend on dreams.

Per Xiao Lü’s instructions: if he consciously willed himself into the “Little Yellow Book,” sleep came fast and the dream followed. But for ordinary rest? Don’t relax naturally—just sleep like normal.

Consciousness blurred into darkness.

The dream world reappeared.

“…”

The once-proud guests now crouched silently on the floor, heads bowed, hands on heads.

Nan Mengling watched, lips parted slightly before she regained composure. She turned to Zhou Jiuyu and whispered, “Thank you.”

She seemed to want to say more but fell silent. She sheathed her White Moon Longsword, hurried to her master, removed the gag from the Sword God’s mouth, and reached to untie him.

“Wait!” Zhou Jiuyu chuckled lightly. “I came to save *you*. I never said… I’d save your master.”

Nan Mengling froze, glancing back at him with dazed eyes.

*The novel called her a cold, aloof sword immortal… Why does she look kinda silly?* Zhou stroked his chin.

“What do you mean?” The Sword God’s eyes flickered with suspicion.

He hated Zhou Jiuyu most of all. His decade-long “Defiled Immortal Maiden” scheme—his deep-seated cuckold fetish—was *seconds* from fulfillment. Then Zhou ruined everything!

If rescued now, ten years of planning vanished.

Unacceptable!

The Sword God’s gaze darted between them. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. His face twisted into pained sorrow, tears welling as he cried hoarsely:

“Sir! Please—don’t harm Mengling! Take it out on me!”

The plea trembled with fake tears, fake worry, fake sacrifice.

“Master…” Nan Mengling’s eyes grew faintly red.

*This old bastard… what an actor.* Zhou crossed his arms, smirking. *He’s got her completely fooled. Look—those little pearl-tears are about to spill.*

Then—a whisper, only for Zhou:

“Sir… your goal is Mengling too, isn’t it? I’ll hand her over. Just… let me *watch*. Or… just listen!”

Same trembling voice—but now laced with giddy excitement.

Nan Mengling showed zero reaction. *Ancient martial arts sound transmission,* Zhou realized.

His eye twitched.

*Oh, we’re playing like this? Fine.*

He smiled at the Sword God. “Let’s talk privately.”

Relief flashed in the Sword God’s eyes. He turned to Nan Mengling with strained gentleness. “Mengling… leave. Trust your master.”

She bit her lip, nodded, and backed away. Passing Zhou, she stared at him a long moment before exiting the hall.

Zhou ignored her, stepping close to the Sword God. “About what you just whispered… let’s discuss.”

The Sword God’s mask dropped instantly. “Everything was my plan! I told her it was a Sword Inquiry Assembly—but it was a ‘corruption’ ceremony. *I* invited these misfits. Hah! How could they possibly bind *me*?”

“Our goals align! I want to see Mengling… ‘corrupted.’ You want Mengling. We can cooperate, sir!”

Zhou’s smile widened. He snapped his fingers.

“Hear that, silly girl?”

Reality shattered for the Sword God—like a popped bubble. The rear door stood open. It had *never* closed. Nan Mengling had *never* left his side.

The entire scene? An illusion crafted solely for him.

His face went slack, genuinely horrified. Slowly, painfully, he turned to Nan Mengling beside him.

“Master…?”

For the first time, the word felt alien on her tongue.

“Why?” Her voice trembled with disbelief.

“No—Mengling, let me explain!” The Sword God panicked. *He can weave illusions too?!*

What *was* his power? Ancient martial arts? Supernatural ability? Most wielded *one* element. Rare few mastered two. But fire, water, lightning, wind—all at once?!

Impossible! Who *was* this guy?!

“Master… why?” Tears truly welled in Nan Mengling’s eyes. This betrayal echoed her mother’s death a decade ago—shattering her world.

“Want to know why?” Zhou Jiuyu’s voice cut through the silence. “Want to know who *really* killed your parents? What the truth *truly* is?”

Nan Mengling turned dazedly. Sunlight blazed at the doorway. The youth stood silhouetted in gold, hand outstretched.

“Then come with me, silly girl.”