Forge a path to success.

Chapter 335 Song of a Foreign Land
Wilbert smiled slightly, holding the same cigarette from back then in her hand.

After the agreement was made, she was afraid that Chu Hengkong would break his promise, so she carried the cigarette with her and reminded him from time to time not to forget the agreement. As it turned out, she was worrying too much. Young Master Chu was a man of his word; he said he would quit smoking and he never did, and he would never go back on his word.

Looking back now, it was about five years ago. The struggle to quit smoking began shortly after they met and didn't end until they were adults. It was a petulant fight between two immature kids, but it also unconsciously corrected many of her beliefs.

There are people in this world who don't care about interests or gains and losses, and have no weaknesses whatsoever. Although they are on your side, they are also on your opposite side from time to time. You can't confine them with interests or reason, and traps and schemes are nonsense. The only thing that can make them compromise is emotion.

It's feelings that make him willing to stand by your side; it's because he cares about you that he'll never leave you.

She tossed the unlit cigarette into the core of the Holy Grail structure. The system immediately issued a warning, stating that this extra component would reduce overall computational efficiency.

She casually wiped the message window, watching the colossal machine complete its final assembly. That lingering unease vanished the moment she offered it a cigarette; she had completed the most important piece of the puzzle of being a leader.

People respect you as their leader because of their trust, and the foundation of that trust is ability... and affection.

The countless autonomous machines coalesced into one, their transformation array converging towards the center of the dark clouds. In a mere instant, the thick clouds that had shrouded the dust-free land vanished, and she descended into the blazing sunlight, like an angel descending to the heavens in mythology.

·
Wilbert felt exceptionally well, a result of the satisfaction of completing the transformation and the sense of fulfillment from a renewed rise in her self-existence.

However, her body was still weak, and her physical condition was naturally different from that of the Earth era, but she was still considered to be of the mortal level in the world of sinking.

She suspected her arm strength might still be inferior to Chu Hengkong's. When she returned to Earth to arm wrestle with the assassin, she might face an interesting defeat.

Such is the norm on the Path of Floating Light: your spirit, skills, and tools constantly evolve, your power and territory continuously expand, but barring unforeseen circumstances, your physical body remains unremarkable. She certainly has many ways to enhance her body—prosthetic replacement, genetic optimization, introducing a more efficient energy system, or even undergoing full-scale mechanization like a real machine—but she has never considered such a path.

She didn't want to become someone who was no longer pure, and her strength never depended on mere physical strength.

Vilbert walked back to her office, her arrival unnoticed by anyone; the information interference layer automatically blocked most observation methods. She poured herself a cup of tea, sat quietly in her office chair for a moment, and imagined life after successfully returning to Earth.

She would find Ah Kong, and perhaps, unusually, crack a little joke for him, telling him not to worry that everything was fine. The dejected man would become energetic again, occasionally nagging and keeping her company as before.

They will revive the family once more, eradicate the alien contamination, and render the Blood Alliance meaningless. Then, she will completely isolate Earth from the Shrouding Realm, fulfilling her final responsibility. After that, she will pretend to be an ordinary person and live a simple life with him…

Vilbert's thoughts paused, like a wheel caught on a pebble. Impossible, she thought helplessly. There was no way A-Kong wouldn't discover her power; he would dig deep until he found out about the existence of the Submerged Realm… So after that, she would most likely take Chu Hengkong back to the Submerged Realm and watch him leap and bound up to the High-Quality Point like a student eager to leave school…

That's not bad either. At that time, she would at least have a 7-point mass, enough to be a "stronger" figure in his presence for quite some time. Just thinking about his expression back then made Velvet want to smile.

Vilbert finished her tea, abruptly ending her daydreaming as if flipping a switch. She took a break for about half a minute, a luxury she felt wasting in her current state of mind.

She donned her suit jacket, grabbed her ever-present cane, and a brand-new to-do list flowed into the computing center, transforming into rows of task lists that appeared before her and her lab members. She drew back the curtains and found her goofy secretary on the sun-drenched lawn. She teleported instantly to Hill's side.

"Ah, boss!" Hill exclaimed, still holding half a potato pie in his hand, "Congratulations on your successful promotion!"

Vilbert nodded in thanks: "Thank you. And thank you for your continued support. Your work schedule starts in 1 hour and 37 minutes; you can return to the lab in the afternoon. Any extra work done during the Jing Sha incident will be compensated with time off later."

Secretary Hill breathed a sigh of relief. Some magic scholars undergo a drastic personality change after their transformation, becoming almost uncommunicative extremists. Fortunately, Velvet did not follow the path of her predecessors and remained the extreme workaholic with a touch of humanity.

She mustered her courage and said, "Boss, why don't you take a rest too? The weather is so nice today."

"Yes, it's suitable for outdoor work."

She brought up a screen on her cane and sent out messages and instructions. Research in clean environments shows that regular sun exposure can enhance resistance to pollution at the microbial level, so many researchers lead their teams to work outdoors regularly.

Hill sighed inwardly, deciding to finish her potato pie quickly and go get her work. Just then, she noticed the boss had stopped moving, gazing at the fountain with a look in her eyes…

A look of surprise and uncertainty?
She rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn't seeing things; the boss even looked a little excited, an expression she'd never seen him like before. But beside the hot spring, only a group of children were surrounding the singing mercenary, cheering him on; he had just finished his second verse.

"Alright, guys, let's change to a new one..."

"Again! Again!" the children cheered.

"Hey, Captain McCormick isn't your parrot!" the mercenaries protested. "Just this last time, okay? We need to come up with something new after this!" Captain McCormick groaned, thinking he shouldn't have impulsively tried to imitate Sreil's mannerisms. He'd only known Sreil had a good voice, but he hadn't realized the poet's patience was so strong. Singing the same song over and over again, even the best songs got tiresome. He finished the last verse somewhat perfunctorily, then noticed a strange woman standing among the children.

That unwavering, nail-like gaze terrified him.

"What's the name of this song?" she asked.

·
"The song is called 'The Flower of Unity Under the Iron Curtain,' sir," the cricket poet said proudly. "This song has a history even longer than the umbrella of poetry. Many centuries ago, soldiers sang this song as they went into battle, and they sang it to celebrate their victories. It is our proud national anthem!"

“That’s fantastic. I think you’ll hear this song everywhere tomorrow,” the man in the suit said.

"Of course, of course! We will be holding a grand chorus tomorrow to celebrate the holiday and the future!"

The man in the suit laid down a green branch, bidding farewell to the jubilant cricket poet. Colorful flags fluttered along the streets, and gardeners pruned the bushes into a continuous narrative painting, with colorful lights hanging from the treetops.

The Vitex Festival officially begins tomorrow, while voting will conclude after a three-day holiday. Citizens are already eagerly preparing for the festival, and their enthusiasm brings a smile to his face.

"That's great," the man in the suit muttered to himself. "It reminds me of the Rio Carnival."

"This is the first time I've heard you like samba," Guo Yutu said through the earpiece.

"I don't like samba, but I like the people who dance samba. They are so engrossed in their movements, with smiles on their faces, as if they can shake off the misfortunes and setbacks in life through dancing. On Carnival nights, you can see countless people like this in Brazil, leaving everything behind, indulging in self-anesthesia in the name of the festival, and drinking alcohol in the name of the festival."

They stood on the floats, ran through the parade, and basked in ecstasy like carefree children. I mentally counted down, tick-tock. I found the person laughing the happiest and told her, "It'll explode in five seconds."

The man in the suit smiled and said, "I watched her dance move as if frozen in time, her smile frozen on her face, her eyes filled with surprise, rejection, and a little bit of subconscious fear, a fear that brought her down from a false paradise to reality. What pleased me most was not the explosion, but that brief moment."

Guo Yutu listened quietly and then said to him, "To prevent you from misunderstanding, I'll say this in advance: I'm a very dedicated person and always do my job seriously, so you don't need to worry about the subsequent action plan. What follows is just a polite expression of my personal opinion."

"Please say."

“I fucking disgust you, Blood Smoke,” Guo Yutu said. “The first person I’ll kill after this crap is over is you.”

"I'm ready at any time, Black Death Army, and I look forward to the day you defeat me for the first time."

Blood Smoke walked deeper into the alley and pushed open the wooden door of a painting shop. The small shop, which served as their stronghold, was packed with assassins, and second-rate assassins who hadn't even reached level 5 sat on top of picture frames and paint buckets.

He found the sullen, dark-haired woman in the corner; she was still wearing the same one-eyed patch she used to wear. NO.7 "Double Butterfly"—this neurotic woman had indeed come; she wouldn't let herself off the hook.

"Not everyone is here," Blood Smoke said. "Did we still not find White Wolf and the Strange Gunner? Forget about No. 6, it's better that he's not here."

"White Wolf is having a great time in Heavenly Prison, and Shax Ibn Urd probably won't be helping us this time. So in the end it'll just be the few of us, the old members from last time."

The speaker sat atop stacked wooden crates; he was the leader of everyone present, whom they could not disobey and swore to follow. Wang Quan, this time disguised as a frail painter, painted with his back to him.

"What should we do with the sacrificial snake?" Blood Smoke asked.

“The chaos has triggered his sense of crisis, so you don’t need to worry about him this time,” Wang Quan said. “He’s doing very well now.”

"It sounds like you've already met, and you still have a great relationship, just like before."

Wang Quan put down his paintbrush and smiled, "Now, let me explain the plan. Those of you present will be divided into three groups and proceed to the designated locations according to instructions. Guo Yutu, as the overall commander, will be responsible for technical support and maintaining communications. Lylena will act independently according to the plan I gave you. As for you, Mingya…"

It turned the easel around, and the canvas was painted with dazzling fireworks.

"I've put your little things away for you," Wang Quan said with a smile. "I'm looking forward to seeing how you do it."

"Blood Smoke" Hazama Meruya bowed deeply and replied cheerfully, "Let me begin the festival."

(End of this chapter)