Chapter 39: Meng Kexin (Cultivation)

"You must remember this firmly: after entering Mitra Academy, you must definitely curry favor with the Chen Family's young master!"

"The Chen Family's eldest son, Chen Mo Zhi, I've looked into him; he likes quiet and hates noise. In front of him, just keep your mouth shut and be a silent decorative vase."

"Rumor has it he has a shady temperament and ruthless methods... The more like him, the more you must carefully attend, watch his expressions, gauge his thoughts; when he smiles, you smile; when he frowns, you immediately act pitiful."

"If he's in a bad mood and takes his anger out on you, just endure it for me! Got that?"

Meng Kexin constantly kept a meek, compliant expression, a few wayward strands of her pink long hair slipping down to frame her fair face.

She gave no verbal reply, only the fingers resting on her knee twitched slightly, the tips sinking faintly into the soft fabric.

Zhao Laoban had long become accustomed to her silent obedience, and even seemed quite pleased.

He gulped a costly red wine offered by the waiter, then continued outlining his "grand" blueprint, his words dripping with contempt for women and a naked hunger for power.

"Don't be fooled that the Chen Family is now fronted by Chen Xiaoshuang; hum, a woman, no matter how capable, can stir up how much trouble? The Chen Family's vast estate will inevitably end up in a man's hands."

"Chen Mo Zhi is the future head of the Chen Family! You must endure a bit now, keep him tightly bound for me; when he eventually gains power, our Zhao Family can soar to the heavens!"

"Your brother's prospects, our family's future, all hinge on you alone! This is for the good of the whole family, for our ancestors! You must know this is your honor!"

Each of his sentences was like a carving knife repeatedly etching, trying to shape his own daughter into a tool that perfectly serves his utilitarian aims; there was not a hint of warmth in his words, only pure exploitation and demand.

Yet he didn't know that the Meng Kexin now seated on the sofa had already silently transformed inside; she was no longer the puppet he could manipulate.

A few days ago, she was still burning the midnight oil in an office tower, tweaking a PPT before a computer screen; after a cup of coffee, her consciousness began to blur.

When she came to again, she had inexplicably been forced to inhabit this body, trapped in this familiar yet alien, danger‑laden, supernaturally charged otherworld.

The past few days were, for her, nothing short of a bizarre, crisis‑filled nightmare.

Not only did she transmigrate into this eerie wasteland, she had no memory of the original host at all.

Fortunately, this world's "Meng Kexin" shared many similarities with her own past, and she quickly readjusted to this suffocating place.

Through these days of integration, she formed a vague yet profoundly shocking understanding of the Floating City called "Tianmian", of Mitra Academy, Aberrant Species, and Special Ability Practitioners.

It is a wasteland where supernatural forces exist and law has utterly collapsed; an unknown power called "Mutation" is pulling this barely surviving world into a deeper abyss.

She is still "Zhao Kexin", with a snobbish father who sees his daughter as a stepping stone for advancement.

Their experiences differ somewhat, but not by much.

She is about to be treated as a fine gift, sent to that academy full of Special Ability Practitioners, to curry favor with a noble's son reputed to have an extremely terrible temperament.

Endurance is what she excels at most.

Meng Kexin strives to play the compliant Zhao family miss remembered by them, fearing that the seemingly familiar yet actually alien and cold "father" before her might detect any abnormality and bring about unimaginable consequences.

Confronted with her father's rapid-fire, PUA‑laden "lesson", Meng Kexin can't help to internally scoff.

Sending one's own daughter away to please a rumored shady, ruthless guy?

How is that any different from voluntarily throwing one's daughter into a heap of crocodiles?

Her dad really is as consistent as ever, never treating her life as a life at all.

Bone‑Eating Orchid?

Could they be planning to have her use this to control that Chen Family young master?

Aren't they afraid the plot will be exposed and the whole family go down together?

No, at that time, they would only shift all responsibility onto her.

Mitra Academy......

I heard the people there all wield the extraordinary ability called "Aberrant Arts".

Since she passed the academy's assessment, she must also possess this ability, but passing the entrance exam happened before her soul entered this body.

Is it Aberrant Arts that bound the soul, or does that wondrous power still reside within her, merely unknown how to wield?

Meng Kexin is scheming in her mind; she still has too little intel on this world, whether about the Bone‑Eating Orchid or herself.

If the Bone‑Eating Orchid truly is that sinister, how could her useless dad possibly get his hands on it?

She must find a chance to figure out her Aberrant Arts.

But on the surface, Meng Kexin merely bows her head even lower, almost burying it in her chest, daring only a hushed whisper in reply.

"...... Yes, father."

Zhao Laoban was extremely pleased with his daughter's response, which was no different from that of a puppet; his plump face beamed with smiles as he patted the back of her hand in "approval".

He redirected his greedy gaze toward the increasingly heated auction floor below, already fantasizing about presenting the Bone‑Eating Orchid to the future Chen heir for a bright future.

How the other party will be overjoyed, and how the Zhao Family will seize this tailwind to truly establish themselves and soar to greatness amid the power‑laden Tianmian City.

Meanwhile, Meng Kexin, taking advantage of a moment when her father wasn't watching, lifted a corner of her eyelid.

Through the one‑way glass curtain wall, she gazed at the auction hall below, at the bidders—dangerous or mysterious—and felt a chill in her heart.

This world has rotted to its very core.

And she must not only struggle hard in this peril‑filled world, but also be forced to survive within these scheming, betrayal‑laden power games.

Her path ahead resembles a pitch‑black quagmire, riddled with invisible thorns and traps.

——————————————

Tick—

The hand of the clock precisely struck a certain mark, and all chandeliers and wall lamps in the auction hall simultaneously went out, the light abruptly contracting, finally focusing on the central auction podium.

Under the spotlight, everyone's gaze converged on one spot, as if it were a pre‑laid altar for the "commodity".

The murmurs and stirrings among the crowd quickly subsided, and everyone's eyes simultaneously turned toward the auction podium.

A tall, well‑proportioned man dressed in a tailored dark‑purple velvet tuxedo walked calmly from behind into the halo's center.

He appeared about thirty years old, his features strikingly handsome to the point of uncanny, a smile at the corners of his lips, yet his deep violet eyes showed no warmth.

A lifelike, palm‑sized mechanical phoenix‑tail butterfly perched on his left shoulder.

Its wings fluttered gently at times, refracting a mesmerizing, gorgeous glow.