The Apex Anomaly, the tyrannical Chef, the Vanguard Leader who had just terrified an entire sect...
Threw her hands over her flushed face, let out a loud, high-pitched, incredibly girlish squeak of absolute mortification, turned on her heel, and sprinted out of the courtyard as fast as her Body Fusion legs could carry her, leaving the groaning harem and the utterly mesmerized Ice Demon alone in the mud.
***
The heavy, iron-reinforced, petrified-wood doors of the main master suite in the Azure Zenith Pavilion slammed shut with the force of a small explosion.
Lin Ji’an did not stop moving.
Her hands blurred as she formed one hand seal after another. In less than three seconds, she activated the pavilion’s built-in locks, added a strong repulsion ward, slapped three explosive talismans onto the doorframe, and summoned a massive five-hundred-pound Black Iron Wok from her spatial ring to block the entrance.
She stood in the middle of the luxurious bedroom, chest heaving, staring at the barricaded door as if she expected eighty half-naked, lovesick zombies to break through it at any moment.
Silence filled the room.
The wards held.
Ji’an’s shoulders finally dropped.
She let out a long, high-pitched groan of pure embarrassment and threw her head back.
As she moved, her long, heavy silver hair slipped over her shoulders and fell down her back. The hair was one of the strange results of the Body Fusion Heavenly Calamity.
Ji’an caught sight of one silver strand.
She grabbed it immediately.
She stared at it with deep hatred.
’That bastard.’
Her anger burned hotter.
’That absolute, shameless, pipe-smoking corporate psychopath.’
She finally understood how badly she had been tricked.
Yan Zhaoge had known.
The Sovereign of the Iron-Stone Monastery had stood in the Ashen Wastes and watched the tribulation lightning literally bleach her hair.
He had watched the huge amount of cosmic energy overload her disguise artifact.
And he had said nothing.
Not one word.
Instead, he had smirked.
He had complimented her "new aesthetic."
Then he had wished her a "highly entertaining" reception.
He had known exactly what would happen.
He had deliberately let her walk back into a courtyard filled with romance-starved protagonists while looking like some legendary silver-haired fairy maiden.
"I am going to poison his snacks," Ji’an hissed at the empty room.
She began pacing.
"I am going to take Ghost-Toad venom, extract the active poison, turn it into a spicy dipping sauce, and feed it to him with a cracker."
She clenched her fists.
"I will make him sweat fire. I will unionize his monastery. I will destroy his thermal arrays from the inside!"
Her reputation was ruined.
For months, she had worked hard to build the image of an arrogant, untouchable young master.
She was the Red Menace.
The Iron Wok Demon.
The Vanguard Leader who made men cry in the mud.
And in less than five minutes, she had become a blushing, squeaking maiden running away from eighty suitors who had offered to fight dragons for her hand.
Gu Zhiwei had tried to give her flowers.
Lu Jianheng had recited moon poetry.
’If I had a time-reversal array, I would go back to this morning and drown myself in the fermentation barrel.’
Ji’an covered her face with both hands.
Knock. Knock.
She froze.
Someone was knocking on the door.
"Ji’an?"
It was not Lu Jianheng’s desperate voice.
It was not Gu Zhiwei’s whining.
It was the calm, slightly empty voice of Shen Zechuan.
"Go away, Zechuan!" Ji’an shouted. Her voice still had that softer, deeper, annoyingly attractive tone. "I am off-duty! The kitchen is closed! The Vanguard Leader is having a mental breakdown!"
"I brought you a rock," Zechuan said from the other side.
Ji’an slowly lowered her hands.
"...What?"
"It is very round. It looks like a steamed bun."
There was a short pause.
"Also, Gu Zhiwei is crying in the courtyard. He keeps saying he has dishonored his idol and must punish himself by cleaning the mud pits with his own robes."
Ji’an closed her eyes.
"Lu Jianheng is also trying to challenge himself to a duel because he feels ashamed."
Ji’an groaned.
"Tell them if they don’t go to sleep right now, I will use their Golden Cores as soup stock!"
"Okay!"
Zechuan sounded perfectly happy.
"Should I also tell them your new hair is very pretty? Because it is. It is very shiny. It looks like a freshly polished wok."
Ji’an’s eye twitched.
"Though Wangchen has the same hair," Zechuan continued. "Does that mean you and Wangchen are siblings now? Or did you accidentally absorb some of his ice?"
’A-absorb his ice?’
For some reason, it sounded pretty dirty.
"ZECHUAN!"
Ji’an’s voice shook the room.
"I SWEAR TO THE HEAVENS, GO COUNT THE SAND IN THE DESERT!"
"Counting sand sounds boring."
Zechuan thought about it.
"But if it makes you feel better, I will find a desert."
His footsteps began moving away.
"I will leave the bun-rock by the door."
Ji’an stared at the door in silence.
The footsteps slowly disappeared.
She sighed.
’This life is ridiculous.’
She finally turned away from the door and looked toward the large bronze mirror in the corner of the room.
Slowly, she walked toward it.
Her red leather boots sank into the thick carpet.
She stopped.
For the first time since the tribulation, no, in months, she really looked at herself.
Ji’an’s breath caught.
The person staring back at her was...
Beautiful.
Her silver hair fell around her face in shining waves. It softened the sharp features that her illusion artifact normally created.
But the hair wasn’t the only difference.
Under the dirt, sweat, and tough attitude she wore every day, she was still a woman.
She was sixteen years old, though her soul was older than that.
A girl who had been taken from a modern kitchen and dropped into a world filled with blood, cultivation, sects, and ridiculous amounts of danger.
The locket her father, General Lin, had given her had always hidden her true appearance.
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