Chapter 14

On the beaches of Jinshan City, all the fire demon’s remains were collected and stored in ice vaults.

Last night, China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs rushed over to urgently negotiate with Ark Country over the distribution of the remains—particularly the ownership of the black giant blade, which sparked intense dispute between China and Ark.

The blade is over thirty meters long and more than five meters wide at its widest point, forged from an unknown material impervious to extreme heat—the blue-purple flames unleashed by the fire demon in its final frenzy reached nearly ten thousand degrees, yet the black blade remained undamaged. Instrumental tests confirmed it contained immense, unidentified energy.

Everyone knew it was a priceless artifact, and no one was willing to let go.

The two sides remain deadlocked.

————

Yang Yi did her best to minimize her presence.

She spent the entire day loitering in her hotel room, sneaking two free luxury lunches and dinners.

She didn’t want to go out, because every TV channel and online news source was covering yesterday’s fire demon incident.

Jinshan City after the disaster was a wasteland; reporters and onlookers stood on the battlefield from yesterday, their feet resting on a vast expanse of glassy Liuli —formed by the fire demon’s scorching heat.

Yang Yi’s face appeared in every news broadcast; you could say the entire world now knew her.

In the internet age, the Earth is a village—what happens at one end reaches the whole village before the next day.

The next day, Iris politely reminded her that many international brands had called the front desk, asking if they could speak with her.

“Why do they want me? To do ads for them…?” Yang Yi sat on the balcony, scooping ice cream, enjoying the cool breeze.

“They say they’re willing to provide you with free attire and jewelry for tomorrow’s banquet, plus a full styling service.”

Ark Country was hosting a thank-you banquet tomorrow, attended by its elite and celebrities. Somehow, word had leaked—and the brands, like sharks smelling blood, had fixated on her—well, upon reflection, she was indeed the biggest “traffic star” right now.

When they found out she was staying here but couldn’t reach her directly, they called the hotel front desk, which transferred the calls to Iris.

The thought of beautiful clothes and jewelry tempted her slightly, but then she remembered her current status—she was a civil servant, and she must lead by example in rejecting extravagance! She firmly declined: “No thanks.”

“Understood.”

“Wait—uh—” Yang Yi bit her metal spoon, “Are there any Chinese brands?”

Who doesn’t love beautiful clothes?

“Yes. Chinese haute couture brands LILAN, JX, Weture, and GraceWu are also willing to provide you with custom attire, jewelry, and styling services.”

“Oh, I see.” She immediately called Feng Liancheng about it, then asked, “Can I wear their clothes? Do civil servants have rules against wearing luxury items?”

Feng Liancheng laughed: “No problem—it’s not like you’re becoming their spokesperson… Sure, we advocate rejecting extravagance, but this is a national banquet—it demands dignity and elegance. Since they’re offering it for free, go ahead and wear it.”

Yang Yi called Iris again: “Then LILAN it is!”

“Understood. I’ll notify them immediately.”

At 2 p.m., the phone rang, waking her from a perfect nap, and only then did she realize what “high-quality full-service” truly meant.

“What? They’re already here?”

“Yes. They chartered a private jet from Xincheng and are now waiting in the lounge for your reception,” Iris said respectfully.

Since she was already awake, she might as well get started.

When she saw Iris leading a group of people in, with hotel staff carrying over a dozen boxes, Yang Yi finally felt something was off.

“Miss Yang…” A sharp, blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman stood before her, barely containing her excitement, unsure how to address her, “I’m Emily, manager of LILAN’s Ark branch. Ms. Li was overjoyed when she heard you chose our brand, but she’s currently in China and couldn’t fly over in time, so I’m handling this service personally.”

Emily spoke fluent Chinese, with the perfectly slender figure typical of the fashion world.

The “Ms. Li” she mentioned was Li Lan, the world-renowned Chinese designer who founded the LILAN haute couture brand.

A curly-haired, brown-skinned man also rushed over, stammering his introduction: “I’m Roman, your image designer and makeup artist… ” He began in clumsy Chinese, then, unable to contain his excitement, burst into rapid Ark language: “I saw what you did on the news—it was incredible… When you fought the fire demon, you looked like a god…”

Yang Yi knew only basic Ark language; she simply said, “Thank you,” and maintained a polite smile.

Fortunately, no one minded her silence—as if she were naturally meant to be aloof.

“Why so much stuff?” Yang Yi finally asked.

“We’re terribly sorry for the short notice—this is only a fraction. We couldn’t bring more clothing,” Emily apologized, directing staff to hang nearly a hundred dresses on racks.

Perhaps our definitions of “a lot” and “a little” differ, Yang Yi thought.

Makeup artist Roman brought three massive makeup cases, with over a hundred lipsticks alone.

Everyone was bustling, preparing for a grand undertaking.

Yang Yi didn’t know how to explain that she just wanted to wear one free, pretty dress.

She thought they’d send her a few photos, she’d pick one, and they’d ship it to her like a Chinese courier.

“Ahem—” Yang Yi cleared her throat to get their attention, smiling apologetically: “Thank you all for coming specially, but I’m a bit tired and need more rest—”

She left the rest unsaid.

“Of course, of course! We understand—you single-handedly saved Jinshan City, you must be exhausted. We guarantee the makeup trial will be quick!” Emily quickly assured her.

Still, the fittings and makeup lasted until eight p.m. Yang Yi went from enthusiastic at first to utterly bored, like a man who married a beautiful wife and quickly grew tired of her.

She directly picked a simple, elegant blue dress—suitable for any occasion—and the stylist paired it with minimalist sapphire jewelry. Emily and Roman, still unsatisfied, packed up with their team and left.

Finally, Yang Yi had dinner and casually remarked: “There are quite a few people here who speak Chinese!”

Liu Siyuan, as usual, tested the food, and chuckled: “At your level now, anyone who wants to approach you—or is sent to approach you—must know Chinese. It’s basic.”

Yang Yi paused, then couldn’t help laughing.

Once you stand high enough, everything naturally revolves around you—quietly, effortlessly, without any obvious flattery, everything feels perfectly natural.

For the first time in her life, she tasted the sweet aftertaste of power—the taste of authority.

————

The next day, the thank-you banquet was held at the Lishton Hotel.

It was a politically charged event: besides Ark Country’s officials, attendees included the chairman of Jinshan City’s post-disaster reconstruction fund and major donors and celebrities.

“Truly eye-catching—the dress is stunning,” Feng Liancheng said the moment they stepped out of the elevator. “No surprise—it’s LILAN haute couture.”

“The dress is nice. I’m just average, right?” Yang Yi joked offhandedly.

Feng Liancheng was stunned—she’d actually joked with him. Only close friends joked, especially someone as introverted as Yang Yi. She’d always been distant to everyone—was this a sign she considered him a friend?

“Nonsense. The dress only highlights you—you’re the star. I can say this: everyone here came for you.” Feng Liancheng’s tone was sincere, almost exaggerated.

Yang Yi looked up—and indeed, the moment she appeared, every eye in the banquet hall turned toward her. Dozens of suited, jewel-adorned figures fixed their gazes on her; instantly, she became the center of attention.

Internally, Yang Yi felt awkward, but outwardly, she was as calm as a dog on a throne.

She calmly smiled at the stares, displaying the dignified grace of China, then turned naturally to Feng Liancheng: “I regret coming.”

“No, you won’t regret it,” Feng Liancheng said, his words carrying hidden meaning.

A clean-cut young man stepped forward and introduced himself: “Captain Yang, I’m Zhang Mu, assigned by our Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Just call me Xiao Zhang. I’ll be your interpreter today—it’s an honor to serve you.”

The young man seemed overwhelmed with awe—as if interpreting for her was a great honor. Yang Yi felt strange: three days ago, a young elite like him was far beyond her reach; now, he stood before her, trembling with reverence.

Yang Yi nodded her thanks and asked Feng Liancheng: “What do I need to do today?”

“Nothing. Do whatever you want,” Feng Liancheng shrugged. “Your mere presence gives this banquet enough prestige.”

Yang Yi immediately understood her role here: to signal China’s stance and lend weight to China’s claim over the fire demon’s remains—everything else was secondary.

“What about Chen Yushu, Wei Chang’an, and Li Chengxuan? Still not healed?”

Among the Chinese Awakened who came with her, she was the least injured—but compared to Ark’s Awakened, who suffered heavy casualties, the three of them were barely scratched.

“They’re physically fine, but psychologically crushed by the comparison. This morning, they flew back to train on their own,” Feng Liancheng laughed. “I told them: why compare yourself to her? It’s like an ordinary person trying to compete with Einstein—just invites pain… Look at me—I’ve got the most useless D-rank ability: telescopic vision. Just keep a level head, and your mental resilience improves.”

Yang Yi didn’t know how to respond, so she dodged with platitudes: “If you challenged me to a hacking contest, I’d be clueless. We just need to shine in our own fields.”

“That’s the spirit!” Feng Liancheng gave her a thumbs-up.

Through Director Zhou’s introductions, Yang Yi met a dozen people she instantly forgot—governors, mayors, deputy mayors, chairmen of the Jinshan Reconstruction Fund, CEOs, presidents—every lofty title imaginable.

Fortunately, all she had to do was smile behind Director Zhou, sip champagne occasionally, and maintain her aloof persona—everything was simple.

Mostly because no one deliberately challenged her.

If she showed even a hint of interest in a topic, those around her would make it funnier and more engaging; if she looked bored, someone immediately shifted the subject; or if a journalist tried to ask a provocative, aggressive question—common in the West—she’d just frown slightly, and someone would instantly step in to rescue her, smoothly steering the conversation away, while the journalist was quietly excluded from the circle.

Everyone naturally revolved around her; everything around her felt harmonious, like planets orbiting a star—without making her uncomfortable at all.

This was paradise for a socially anxious introvert. She felt slightly dizzy with delight.

No wonder everyone craved power—this sweet taste made her almost lightheaded.

“How’s it going? A bit boring?” Director Zhou asked during a pause.

“Everyone’s very friendly. Not hard to bear,” Yang Yi sipped her champagne.

“Hah! How could they not be friendly? A human nuclear bomb is standing right here.”

“True! Hahaha…” Yang Yi laughed too.

Laughing, a man approached her—he looked vaguely familiar. He spoke rapidly, but Yang Yi barely heard him—her gaze was fixed entirely on the person behind him.

Chris Norton.

Her obsessive crush.