Chapter 173
Blankness.
The entire world was plunged into a silent sea of pure white.
That white was thick, suffocatingly silent, wrapping around Jian Yunlan like a fluffy cloud, tugging him deeper into the cosmos, urging him to close his eyes and rest.
A gentle voice murmured softly beside his ear, like a Buddha’s whisper:
Sleep. Once you sleep, the world on the other side has everything you’ve ever wanted.
You’ll wake up in a normal modern city, running a lively little food stall on the street, with a never-ending stream of customers…
…He would awaken in that world and find that he hadn’t died of sudden cardiac arrest. No Multiverse Livestream, no dramatic transmigration, no Taotie, no nine-tailed fox, no Ox-Head (Niu Tou)—all of it just a dream. He was still just a former office worker, recently laid off, who had started a food blog. He had finally made up his mind to run a street stall and start over.
Jian Yunlan: “…..”
Tempting offer, honestly (?)
But he couldn’t sleep.
Jian Yunlan forced his heavy eyelids open, reminding himself—he couldn’t fall asleep.
[Eyes: blazing with clarity.jpg]
…His beautiful, deep blue eyes suddenly flew wide open like a nocturnal owl, startling even the Heavenly Dao that had been silently watching from the shadows. If the Heavenly Dao had a physical body, it would’ve probably broken out in goosebumps.
Jian Yunlan remembered—he still had someone to find.
He had made a promise to Taotie: no matter how far, how many times, he would find him.
“Why are you so obsessed?” The Heavenly Dao’s voice murmured in his ear again, soft and almost teasing, tinged with a hint of seductive persuasion. “He is a divine beast who lives as long as Heaven and Earth. You’re just a human who suffers through endless cycles of reincarnation. No matter how many times it happens, you two… are not meant to walk the same path.”
A sigh seemed to echo faintly.
The Heavenly Dao muttered under its breath, “So many times already… and you still haven’t given up? Just a fateful encounter ten thousand years ago… Honestly, humans are…”
But Jian Yunlan caught something in its words.
“Ten thousand years ago?” he repeated.
The Heavenly Dao fell instantly silent.
“Oh no, I said something I wasn’t supposed to.” It let out a guffawing laugh like a creaky rattle, chuckling gleefully. “Human, you’re too sharp for your own good. That’s not good~ not good~”
And in the very next second, something began to appear within the endless white before Jian Yunlan’s eyes.
Pupils Infinitely Dilated.
With a mortal body, Jian Yunlan glimpsed the Heavenly Dao before his eyes.
—No human language could describe what lay before him. If forced to try, it was as if all worlds, all of time, and the memories of all living beings had been compressed into a tiny mass, all unfolding before him. The sheer overload of information flooding his mind left no doubt—any human who dared to dwell on it for even a second would have their brain explode on the spot.
But one thing was certain.
What he saw before him was the Heavenly Dao itself.
The aggregate of all planes, the collective will of all worlds—it… or rather, He, was not an independent entity. His very existence represented the entirety of existence.
Jian Yunlan gave an objective assessment: “Wow, that’s a really cool concept.”
The Heavenly Dao manifested a vaguely humanoid form, though His face remained a chaotic swirl of overloaded information. With playful grace, He performed a gentlemanly bow. “Thank you.”
“Since you’re a smart person, I won’t waste words.”
“Human, let’s make a deal,” the Heavenly Dao said with a smile. “I’ll send you back to your original world. In this lifetime, you’ll live to a ripe old age, running your snack stall to your heart’s content, and your entanglement with Taotie will end here. How about it?”
—”Taotie has accepted his fate. Shouldn’t you accept yours?”
Jian Yunlan fell into thought.
‘This lifetime’? From the Heavenly Dao’s tone, was his untimely death in his previous life not an accident?
But Jian Yunlan didn’t recklessly voice his suspicion, wary of alerting the Dao.
Still… he couldn’t help but grumble internally. This Heavenly Dao is supposed to be the embodiment of the universe’s will, so why does He sound like the evil mother-in-law from a soap opera trying to tear lovers apart?!
Jian Yunlan hadn’t spoken a word—it was just an internal complaint.
Yet somehow, the humanoid silhouette of the Heavenly Dao suddenly flushed bright red all over its head, frantically rubbing its arms as if unbearably itchy.
“Ahem, cough, sorry—I might’ve watched too many soap dramas lately… Back to business! Back to business! What I mean is—”
The Heavenly Dao’s tone abruptly shifted.
His human form dissolved, transforming into countless pupils that suddenly surged forward, locking eyes with Jian Yunlan:
“Stop looking for him.”
The moment those countless eyes fixed on him, any normal person would’ve been instantly terrified into submission.
However…
Jian Yunlan: “Daga, kotowaru.”
Heavenly Dao: “…?”
What’s with the sudden foreign language?!
Faced with the sea of eyeballs, Jian Yunlan didn’t flinch. Instead, he dug around in his pocket.
After a moment, he somehow pulled out an employment contract—neatly formatted, black ink on white paper—and solemnly presented it to the Heavenly Dao.
“What you’re saying makes sense, but—Taotie and I signed an employment contract. It’s legally binding, with third-party witnesses and everything. So, y’know, I have to find him. We’re just following the rules here. Heheh… Lord Heavenly Dao, surely You wouldn’t want to get tangled up in a lawsuit, right?”
Heavenly Dao: “…???”
He morphed back into a humanoid shape, trembling as He pulled out a pair of reading glasses (from who-knows-where) and scrutinized the contract.
There, under “Employment Duration,” the terms were crystal clear: 10,000,000 years.
Heavenly Dao: “…Holy shit.”
Truly worthy of Boss Jian’s snack stall—signing employees for ten million years. Where else could you find a more generous employer?
Even the Heavenly Dao couldn’t help but widen all His eyes, frantically reviewing legal knowledge from every plane of existence before hesitantly speaking up:
“Wait, this contract isn’t legally enforceable, is it? I mean—”
He looked up, ready to argue further.
But it was too late.
In that split second of hesitation, Jian Yunlan seized the opportunity and activated the God of Cookery System in his mind.
With unwavering conviction, he shouted: “Ba Lan Lan Energy—!”
At the same time, the system’s interface flashed before him:
[Employee #1 [Taotie]’s current plane detected. Activate dimensional leap function to pursue? (Due to external interference, this timed prompt will only last 10 seconds. 10, 9, 8, 7…)]
[Yes / No]
Without hesitation, Jian Yunlan clicked [Yes].
And so, the Heavenly Dao could only watch helplessly as a swirling rainbow light—like some kind of magical gust—wrapped around Jian Yunlan. His floral apron began to glow, and inexplicably cheerful music started playing.
Amid the radiant colors, space itself twisted around him.
The sensation of weightlessness enveloped Jian Yunlan as he was slowly pulled into the vortex.
[Destination: Shanhai Plane.]
“……”
The Heavenly Dao’s blank face, brimming with infinite information, shifted from shock to calm.
What could He do, after all?
The Heavenly Dao was the will of all existence.
No matter where Jian Yunlan teleported, he could never escape His grasp.
He didn’t mind playing along a little longer.
By the time Jian Yunlan completely vanished, the Heavenly Dao had already regained His usual smiling demeanor. His right hand morphed into a teacup, and He took a slow, deliberate sip before carefully examining the black-and-white employment contract again.
The reason He had been stunned earlier was simple: the contract was legally binding—even under the scrutiny of the Heavenly Dao’s will.
But its nature wasn’t that of an employment agreement at all.
“Are they really just employer and employee?”
The Heavenly Dao couldn’t help but mutter to Himself.
But in the vast, silent expanse of pure white, there was no one left to answer Him.
*
Anomaly Era Plane
After the world-shattering explosion, aside from a few bold souls like Murong Miao, most people kept their eyes tightly shut, too afraid to witness the moment of apocalypse.
…Until the world finally fell silent, leaving only the sound of everyone’s weak, rapid breathing.
One by one, people cautiously cracked their eyelids open, peering through narrow slits to see—
The blood-red sky had faded. The rotting limbs and sludge had all vanished. The fires had been extinguished by the rain. The world lay in ruins, a desolate wasteland—but above it all, a tranquil night sky stretched endlessly.
Ruins.
The word echoed in everyone’s minds.
Yet, miraculously, in one small corner of the devastation, Simple Porridge Stall’s tricycle remained untouched. The lantern on the cart still glowed, and inside the two large porridge barrels on the stove, fresh, steaming hot porridge bubbled.
Except… the man and the dog who had stood in front of the stall were gone.
Finally, someone spoke up:
“Are we… dead? Is this the afterlife?”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“Look!” Someone pointed at the tiny porridge stall. “Simple Porridge Stall is still here!”
“Boss Jian… the stall is here, but where’s Boss Jian?!”
Panic surged again.
The first thing the survivors did was search for Boss Jian.
“Boss Jian and Maomao… they were the ones who protected us,” Murong Miao murmured. “I saw it—that strike repelled the Devourer, splitting apart the fused heavens and earth…”
Though the details were unclear, everyone had a vague sense of it.
Boss Jian had done something. That was why they were still alive.
Suddenly, someone shouted, pointing at the sky:
“Holy shit, open your eyes! Something’s falling from the sky!”
Everyone looked up.
The sky, once filled with countless gaping maws, was now clear—and descending slowly, gently, was a ball of light.
It drifted downward, unhurried, until it landed softly in the arms of the unconscious Mu Dongsheng.
“……”
Tension spiked. The members of Squad 11 immediately drew their weapons.
Unwilling to harm Mu Dongsheng, they approached with extreme caution. Wang Li, bolder than the rest, ignored the warnings and reached out, brushing aside the light—
Inside was a baby.
A swaddled infant with striking red hair, yet otherwise no different from any other newborn—tiny, fragile, with an utterly harmless face.
At the same time, a familiar yet unfamiliar announcement echoed in everyone’s minds:
[Ding dong! Streamer [Jian Yunlan] has successfully cleared your plane. To all residents of the Anomaly Era—congratulations.]
“Your apocalypse… is over.”
