ATIGIBTC Chapter 35

«The Creator’s Caution and Risk»

“You said you want to increase taxes?”

Inside a lavish office decorated in gold and jade, beneath the grandeur of a massive, exquisitely carved conference table, Lu Hu idly twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. A beautiful flicker of flame seemed to dance at her fingertips as if responding to her touch.

“The current situation isn’t great. We might need to raise taxes a little to ease the treasury’s burden,” He Fang admitted, feeling somewhat guilty. After all, the financial strain stemmed from his own mismanagement of the economic shifts following the online launch of “Ruins Without Restart”.

Had he focused more on development rather than balancing happiness and various other factors before the game’s launch—had he expanded territory more boldly and increased the population—perhaps things wouldn’t have become so passive.

“Sure,” Lu Hu replied without hesitation. “Why not?”

“You don’t think it’s a problem?” He Fang wasn’t sure if she agreed simply because it was his suggestion or if she had actually considered the city’s current development.

“Why would it be a problem?” Lu Hu asked, curious.

“Wouldn’t a sudden, unannounced tax hike spark public protest?” He Fang questioned.

Lu Hu casually flicked through the thick stack of documents he had handed her. The reports spread open before her as she remarked, “Haven’t you already conducted a thorough investigation?”

“Are there any other recommendations or concerns I should be aware of?” Ever since receiving valuable advice from Lu Hu last time, He Fang had developed an inexplicable trust in her. Now, he was eager to hear her thoughts again.

This time, Lu Hu didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she gazed at He Fang, her lips curving into a distinct smile. In her pupils bloomed a striking shade of rose-red.

“My dear City Lord, you seem to trust me quite a lot,” she said, her voice laced with an intoxicating allure that made He Fang’s face burn crimson.

He Fang had no idea why he always blushed so easily around Lu Hu. He stammered, “You’re the Minister of Finance—you must be highly capable. Of course, I trust your advice.”

Lu Hu let out a soft, delighted laugh.

“Then naturally, I must respond earnestly to our dear City Lord’s expectations.”

With that, she began flipping through the extensive reports on the table—not only the Finance Department’s analyses but also He Fang’s own assessments. When combined, these documents created a rather fascinating picture.

Lu Hu’s fingers traced over every annotation He Fang had made, skimming through the documents he had meticulously organized. Each note was the result of his careful thought and deliberation.

Inside, He Fang was nervous—almost like a student awaiting a teacher’s critique of his homework. Unconsciously, he swallowed, trying to steady his heartbeat.

Lu Hu, of course, noticed his small physical reactions and her smile deepened.

At last, she set the documents down, half-lidding her eyes. Even without looking, she had already memorized all the key details.

“You’ve certainly reviewed all this information. Allow me to praise you—you’ve put a great deal of effort into compiling these materials.”

But her words did not ease He Fang’s nerves. This felt like just the opening remark—surely, there was more to come. He forced himself to focus, ready to absorb every piece of advice she would give.

“First and foremost, your biggest concern is whether the citizens can bear the pressure of increased taxes, correct?” Lu Hu’s eyes narrowed slightly as she saw the anticipation in He Fang’s gaze, making it impossible for her to suppress a smile. “My answer is: yes, they can. Under your governance, the city is prosperous and stable. Many citizens have a substantial amount of disposable income. A slight tax increase will not be difficult for them to accept.”

He Fang had considered this issue as well. Based on the reports Lu Hu had given him, it was clear that most residents were far wealthier than he was.

After all, this was a fully enclosed city, where the concept of “luxury goods” did not exist. There weren’t many places to spend large sums of money, and daily entertainment expenses were modest. Over time, wealth had accumulated in the hands of the citizens.

“Moderately increasing taxes could actually help curb inflation. For the city as a whole, this wouldn’t be a bad thing. Moreover, raising taxes is a long-term strategy—there’s no doubt about that. It could also help narrow the wealth gap to some extent.”

He Fang nodded. Taxation in the game was far simpler than in reality. In real life, tax categories were clearly defined and structured into tiers, whereas in the game, taxes were calculated with a single percentage-based model. Besides, his city’s population was barely reaching thirty thousand—there was no need for an overly complex tax system.

Lu Hu proceeded to list all the pros and cons of raising taxes, based on the data she had analyzed. Then, she emphasized, “There may be brief dissatisfaction, but once residents realize that a reasonable tax rate doesn’t impact their daily lives, yet enriches the treasury, improves infrastructure, and expands the city, they won’t protest.”

Hearing this confirmation, He Fang quietly exhaled in relief. Then he said, “I just don’t know how much I should increase taxes to avoid negatively impacting the citizens. I want to adjust it gradually based on the situation, but I’m also unsure whether multiple small adjustments would cause discontent.”

“Are you aiming to maximize tax revenue?” Lu Hu asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“No.” He Fang shook his head. “I want to ensure that the city functions properly while maintaining the current state of prosperity for its citizens.”

Lu Hu’s gaze softened slightly. Their dear City Lord—he was worrying about whether he might take too much, even when collecting taxes.

“Then.”

Lu Hu dipped her fingertip into the water in her cup and traced a number onto the table in front of He Fang.

He Fang froze when he saw it. “Isn’t that too high?”

“No,” Lu Hu replied with a smile. “This is already the lowest baseline I calculated after taking your concerns into account. Since the founding of the city, you’ve never raised taxes even once.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Besides, you plan to expand welfare policies for low-income households. If you allocate subsidies accordingly based on this rate, it won’t have a significant negative impact.”

He Fang stared at the “3” on the table, dumbfounded. That high? He had initially planned to increase it by just a fraction of a percent. Was Lu Hu, as the Minister of Finance, always this ruthless when it came to money?

But thinking about it carefully, he realized that while he had put in a lot of effort, he had never truly delved into the economic system. The game was realistic, but it didn’t go into excessive micro-details. Taxation, in particular, was something he had very little understanding of.

Getting an exact number from Lu Hu was, in a way, a relief.

He hesitated, feeling reluctant. However, seeing Lu Hu’s utterly unconcerned expression, he finally steadied himself. “I… I’ll give it a try.”

He would monitor the statistics carefully. If there were signs of public dissatisfaction, he would immediately lower the tax rate to a fraction of a percent. Even if it meant prolonging the treasury’s growth, at least it wouldn’t impact the citizens’ current way of life.

As he pondered, he unconsciously lifted his gaze—only to meet Lu Hu’s eyes directly. The clarity in her gaze made it feel as if she could see right through him as if she already knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Wh-what?” He Fang jolted, instinctively leaning back, unwilling to be stared at like that.

Lu Hu chuckled, lifting a hand to cover her lips as if trying to stifle her amusement. “I’m simply delighted that you trust me so much, my dear City Lord. It makes me very, very happy.”

But her narrowed eyes—like an old fox’s when smiling—sent an inexplicable shiver down He Fang’s spine.

“A-also, there’s one more thing. The land division you approved earlier—for private developers to construct residential buildings…” He Fang stammered, trying to shift the topic, almost instinctively slipping into his praising the Minister mode.

“Hm?” Lu Hu tilted her head slightly. Her long hair slid from her shoulder, cascading down in a way that was almost impossibly beautiful.

“I-it’s just that… you did really well. You did… an amazing job…”

He Fang had intended to offer more praise, but seeing her like this, he suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

Lu Hu chuckled softly. And then—before he could react—he felt her fingertips brush against his cheek once again.

Her hand was warm. No—scorching, like fire itself.

“Thank you, my dear City Lord,” she purred. “Hearing your praise is simply unbearable for me. It makes me want to just take you apart and swallow you whole.”

He Fang’s eyes widened in shock. And in the next instant, he bolted—retreating at lightning speed.

Lu Hu watched as he escaped from her grasp, then straightened back up, half-lidding her eyes as she glanced at the reports on the table.

She wasn’t smiling anymore, but deep within her rose-hued pupils, satisfaction rippled like a blooming flower.

In front of her, He Fang always seemed to show a subconscious reliance. He had fully embraced everything about this city—even…

Even when looking at her, he treated her not as an NPC—but as a person.

He Fang logged out of the game, lying inside the sensory simulation pod as he let out a deep sigh. His cheeks felt a little warm. He silently cursed the creator of this contraption.

Making a game was one thing—but this wasn’t some low-quality game that needed scantily clad beauties for cheap advertising! There was absolutely no need to design an NPC like that!

He could still feel Lu Hu’s fingertips brushing his cheek, the warmth of her breath softly exhaling beside his ear.

He Fang couldn’t help but think—if some perverted player got their hands on this game and started taking advantage of NPCs just because of the immersive mechanics, wouldn’t that be a huge issue?

Did this game even have rules in place to prevent players from touching NPCs however they pleased?!

Sitting up, he rubbed his temples vigorously. Complaints aside, he still had to process the information he got from Lu Hu.

The complex reports and analyses were already frying his brain. Even though they were just simplified, in-game versions compared to real-life documents, they still required a painstaking amount of effort to go through.

But He Fang had a habit—whenever he truly cared about a game, he always studied it thoroughly. Even for something as trivial as a weapon’s description, he would analyze every little detail. Most of the time, these things didn’t matter much for gameplay, but to him, they were like hidden Easter eggs. Many of these item descriptions are secretly tied into the game’s lore, map design, and background story. Figuring them out was fun.

Unfortunately, this habit made analyzing data an absolute nightmare. He Fang couldn’t just skim over the dull statistics—he had to pay attention to every single number, breaking them down and analyzing them carefully.

Even back in school, he had never worked this hard.

“I want chocolate.”

In the quiet room, the fair-skinned young man sat up from the sensory simulation pod, his mind filled with nothing but the craving for something sweet. Skillfully, he opened a food delivery app and headed straight to the supermarket section, ordering several chocolate bars and some chocolate-flavored ice cream.

Then, half-sprawled over his computer desk, He Fang opened the control panel for “Ruins Without Restart”, hesitated for a moment, and then, in the tax rate field, he entered “3”.

He Fang’s eyes remained locked onto the statistics panel, scanning every data point with laser focus—especially the Residents section.

The joy of a city-building game came from creating something out of nothing. But for He Fang, there was something even more satisfying—watching the Happiness and Satisfaction metrics steadily climb.

It was almost like…

Like even though the real world was full of all kinds of unpleasantness, the residents in this world would always be happy. And that, in turn, made him feel good.

He Fang cracked open a bottle of cola to replenish his sugar levels, tilting his head back to take a few sips. But his eyes never left the numbers. His heartbeat felt like it was being gripped by those fluctuating values.

For a moment, the previously slow but steady rise in Happiness and Satisfaction came to a halt. He Fang watched anxiously, his fingers tightening around the bottle. He had braced himself for a dramatic drop—but it never came.

After a long pause, the numbers resumed their slow, incremental increase.

He Fang let out a deep breath, relieved beyond words.

Then, he watched as the treasury balance started rising faster. His whole body nearly jumped with excitement.

Wuwuwuwu—I’m rich!!!

Wuwuwuwuwu—I’ve officially become a corrupt lord, squeezing the people dry!!!

He Fang decided that once the treasury reached a comfortable level, he’d lower taxes again. That way, the other metrics—currently crawling along at a snail’s pace—could speed up a little.

For a city of twenty or thirty thousand people, the daily tax revenue wasn’t all that high. But over time, it would accumulate. He Fang waited for a while, just in case any unexpected problems popped up. When nothing alarming happened, he happily took another long gulp of cola—this time, without even glancing at the screen!

If I had known I could raise taxes this much, I would’ve done it ages ago!

I had no idea my residents were this rich!!!

Just to be sure, He Fang rewatched some old strategy videos. In those, even a temporary tax increase had led to an explosion of complaints from the citizens. But when he checked his own event logs, all he saw were minor, irrelevant updates.

He Fang raised an eyebrow.

So it’s just like when you only have a hundred bucks—losing a single dollar feels like a lot. But when you have ten thousand, a hundred bucks doesn’t even register.

His residents were seriously loaded.

Hehehe.

He Fang was in a great mood when a new notification suddenly popped up in the event log.

“Congratulations! The population of your city has exceeded 30,000!”

Excited, He Fang scrolled up and saw that a new section of the residential district had been completed!

New people! More people!

He Fang eagerly checked the residential areas, then glanced at his growing tax revenue. His mind was already spinning with ideas about how to develop infrastructure in these newly expanded areas, ensuring that the new residents would have an even better quality of life.

But after a moment, he shook his head and patted his cheeks.

Don’t spend so fast! Had he already forgotten his financial struggles from before? These people were just living a little farther from the city center—things were slightly inconvenient, sure, but there was no urgent need to splurge on improvements just yet!

With his head full of “I’m rich now!” and “I wanna spend money!”, his phone suddenly rang.

Still caught in his thoughts, He Fang absentmindedly picked up the call without even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

His voice came out hoarse from hours of silence, surprising even himself.

The person on the other end also seemed taken aback—probably confused by how cheerful He Fang sounded.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

Then, the other person finally broke the silence. It was a voice He Fang recognized—a familiar golden-haired man.

“Ah, sorry about that, customer. I’m your delivery guy. I was just checking your order. I’m heading up now and will leave your food by the door as usual. Make sure to grab it, okay?”

He Fang paused for two seconds, then hung up.

He Fang leaned against the door, tilting his head slightly to listen for sounds from outside. The faint ding of the elevator immediately caught his attention, and he perked up his ears.

The footsteps of the delivery guy were so light—quieter even than the rustling of the plastic bags he carried. Then, He Fang heard the faint rustling of plastic against the floor as his delivery was set down, followed by the soft thud of it touching the ground. Finally, the elevator doors opened again.

He Fang blinked. Was the guy incredibly light or had he mastered some kind of silent footstep technique from running so many deliveries? He couldn’t help but be amused by his own thoughts.

He waited a full three minutes before deciding it was safe. Even then, he cautiously peered through the peephole before finally opening the door.

As he bit into the sweet, rich chocolate, a wave of satisfaction washed over him. After burning through so many brain cells, treating himself to something sugary was absolute bliss.

Taking a second bite, He Fang wondered absentmindedly whether the delivery guy had heard his raspy voice earlier. Did he think, Why does this guy sound so awful?

Curious, He Fang let out a few “ah” sounds, then muttered to himself, “Hello, I’m He Fang—He from ‘He Fang’, Fang from ‘He Fang’.”

Just a few meaningless words, testing whether his voice was really that hoarse. Turns out, it wasn’t. It must’ve just been a momentary lapse, catching him off guard.

He probably didn’t hear it, He Fang thought, recalling the delivery guy mentioning he was busy picking up the order.

He Fang took another bite of chocolate.

Oh well, whatever.

—

Meanwhile, an enormous, snowy white structure emitted a faintly perplexed, misty white aura.

Passersby walked expressionlessly by the iconic building, completely ignoring its occasional eccentricities.

—

He Fang sat inside the research facility, with Zhu Yan standing behind him.

The research institute had successfully secured funding. Now that some pressure had been alleviated, He Fang had come to the facility to begin simulation training on piloting the aircraft. He aimed to establish contact with the outside world as soon as possible.

He Fang was already well-versed in flying—so much so that he could probably pass a test with ease. But when he first saw the simulation equipment used at the institute, he was momentarily taken aback.

The man in a snow-white lab coat leaned close to He Fang, his gloved fingers carefully explaining the function of each button. Zhu Yan was positioned extremely close—so they could share the same perspective.

Yet, despite their proximity, He Fang didn’t feel the slightest discomfort or awkwardness. His mind was entirely occupied with deciphering the mess of buttons and controls.

“So complicated…” He Fang muttered to himself, surprised.

“It could have been designed to be much simpler,” Zhu Yan explained seriously. “In most cases, there aren’t that many controls needed for operation. The reason all these options are available is to ensure safety. Even if the aircraft were to break apart mid-air, the lives inside would still have a chance of survival. That’s the core purpose of these complex designs.”

He Fang blinked, genuinely impressed by the institute’s meticulous approach to safety.

Unconsciously, he said, “The research institute has constantly exceeded my expectations. It has never once let me down.”

A fleeting trace of joy flashed in Zhu Yan’s eyes at the unexpected praise. He lowered his gaze slightly and softly replied, “My Lord, you have never once let us down either.”

He Fang blinked again, marveling at just how advanced NPC intelligence had become.

“Is there a manual?” He Fang asked, eyeing the intricate controls. He preferred having a guide to study on his own rather than relying on someone else’s explanations.

Zhu Yan froze for a moment, a brief but noticeable disappointment flickering across his face. He didn’t answer immediately.

He Fang turned his head in confusion. “Wait, is there no manual?”

Zhu Yan straightened up, his expression cool and unreadable. “There is.”

“…Huh,” He Fang hesitated, suddenly feeling like he might have said something wrong. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Zhu Yan’s mood had subtly shifted after he asked for a manual. “…Is it detailed?”

“There is.”

He Fang froze. He glanced at Zhu Yan, then looked at him again, for some reason lacking the courage to insist on seeing the manual.

Zhu Yan, however, merely closed his eyes briefly before reopening them, his expression unreadable. He said evenly, “The manual can be accessed via the third light green button on your right-hand side. It includes both search and retrieval functions. I will take my leave for now. If you require assistance, you may press the call button on your right, and I will come immediately to resolve any issues for you.”

“…Thank you,” He Fang said, wide-eyed. Those were the only two words he could get out.

He watched as Zhu Yan left, the door closing behind him. Once he was alone in the room, He Fang suddenly let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Even though he knew Zhu Yan was just an NPC, He Fang couldn’t shake the unease he always felt when interacting with others.

It was just an NPC…

He Fang opened the manual. Inside was an extensive introduction, filled with highly technical language and absolutely no engaging elements. He scrolled through it, pursing his lips. Great. Another brain-draining read.

As he studied it, he couldn’t help but admire the aircraft’s unique design and innovative thought process. Although it was a flight vehicle, the cockpit was an extremely crucial area. The entire aircraft was massive, while the cockpit itself was relatively compact. Moreover, the cockpit had an “anchor system”—if any part of the aircraft was damaged, the system could transfer the anchor point to another critical area, allowing the damaged section to be detached. The principle was somewhat similar to a rocket, except this detachment process was selective.

The more He Fang read, the more he felt that the game’s design was absurdly detailed. What kind of obsessive perfectionist would create such a convoluted manual? Did the game’s developers personally write this? Didn’t they think this level of complexity would be overwhelming? Couldn’t they have made it just a little easier for players?

Matching the manual’s descriptions one by one, He Fang cautiously initiated the simulation.

Meanwhile, Zhu Yan poured himself a glass of water and downed it in one gulp. A researcher nearby asked, “Zhu Yan? Why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be guiding the Creator through the flight simulation?”

“The Creator said he doesn’t need me.” Zhu Yan’s cool, handsome face remained as composed as ever, but there was now a hint of gloom. His emotions were so obvious that even those around him could immediately tell he was in a bad mood.

“You’re upset, huh? But the Creator has social anxiety—we all know that,” another researcher remarked while handing Zhu Yan a calming, cooling drink. “Before the Creator descended, he always worked alone. He probably hasn’t adjusted yet.”

Zhu Yan didn’t respond. He simply held his cup and took small sips, trying to steady himself.

“Before the Creator descended, our research institute barely had any purpose,” another researcher couldn’t help but add.

“Exactly! Back then, we didn’t have any clear goals and just researched all sorts of random things. Speaking of which, who was it that invented the ultra-efficient multifunctional egg beater? The one that could beat sixty eggs in a minute while perfectly separating and mixing the egg liquid? That was hilarious!” One of the researchers chuckled at the memory. “The Creator even produced a few and tried to sell them on the market, but no one bought them. I think they’re still stored in the national treasury, haha!”

“Honestly, that thing might actually sell now. When it was first developed, we didn’t even have egg-based dishes or desserts in the system yet. The Creator only added those later.”

“Yeah, looking at it now, it has some value. But do you guys remember that walking aid device? The one that directly connected to the nervous system and forcibly stimulated a person to keep walking? Where did the inspiration for that cursed thing even come from? And the Creator actually made it and tried to sell it.”

“Oh, I remember that! No one bought it because one guy was curious and tried it. But due to a time-setting error, he couldn’t stop walking. It couldn’t even be removed! I heard him say that the endless walking felt like he was going to walk himself to death. He was completely in despair. That thing got taken off the shelves right away—way too cursed!”

“Now that you mention it, no matter what bizarre things we designed back then, the Creator would always make a few and try to sell them. Did the Creator seriously think those things would sell?”

“I have no idea. But when the Creator actually took my weird invention, built it for real, and put it up for sale, I don’t know… It felt kinda… hmm…”

“Oh, I get it, I get it. The stuff we designed was utterly useless, but the Creator would still read through the entire manual before making it. Back then, I even snuck a hidden acrostic poem into the manual, hoping the Creator would notice. I wonder if he ever did.”

“Wow, sneaking in personal touches, huh?”

“Hahaha, don’t blame me just because you didn’t think to do it yourself!”

As the research staff bantered during their brief break, the research director approached at a leisurely pace. “What’s all the excitement about?”

“We’re talking about the Creator,” someone immediately answered. “About how he used to build and sell all sorts of weird inventions, like that egg beater and the walking aid.”

“Oh, that,” the director mused, glancing at Zhu Yan. “That was Zhu Yan’s work, wasn’t it?”

Zhu Yan silently took another sip of his calming drink.

The entire room fell into an eerie silence.

Suddenly, someone asked in a trembling voice, “Then… what about those… adjustable height insoles…?”

“Oh, those? Zhu Yan made them too. Pretty interesting, right? I actually find them quite comfortable. It’s not just about looking taller—sometimes being able to adjust your height freely can save a lot of energy. I think they’re pretty useful.” The director smiled kindly and even patted his stomach.

“Then what about that coffin—ah, no, I mean the full-body sleep massage bed…?” someone else hesitantly asked.

“Oh, that? You guys didn’t buy one? Zhu Yan made that too. It’s incredibly comfortable. Even when it’s fully enclosed, it still provides fresh air. Every day after finishing my experiments, I lock myself inside. It massages the shoulders, waist, legs, feet—heck, even the face. It’s pure bliss.” The director chuckled.

However, the entire research lab fell into an eerie silence.

They had always known that strange inventions would pop up from time to time, but since everyone was constantly experimenting with odd ideas, they never gave it much thought. But now that they really considered it, most of the research projects had clear origins—each invention could be traced back to a specific researcher.

Except… for a select few.

Those bizarre, indescribable contraptions had never been questioned.

After all, when something was that weird, no one really wanted to know who made it.

But if they were all made by Zhu Yan and he never said anything, then none of them would’ve ever found out.

Zhu Yan, why did he make such weird things? If weirdness was a competition, no one could beat him.

Zhu Yan sipped his drink without a change in expression, his face as calm as ever.

Then, he slowly lifted his gaze, his eyes filled with an intense, icy coldness—like a relentless blizzard. “What?”

“N-nothing, nothing at all,” someone stammered. “We just suddenly realized that, hearing the director talk about them… these designs are actually kinda interesting…”

“Yeah, yeah! We were just too blind to see the true value of these inventions. The Creator saw their worth right away—no wonder! We really need to work harder and sharpen our vision, hahahaha…”

Zhu Yan didn’t bother acknowledging their awkward justifications. Instead, he casually picked up his phone and scrolled through the logs.

Then, he noticed something.

The flight simulation log has just received a new update.

It was a success.

Right now, He Fang was the only one using the flight simulator. That meant this sudden update was definitely from He Fang’s simulation session.

Zhu Yan was slightly surprised. He tapped into the detailed flight log.

All the performance scores were average. There was nothing particularly special about them.

But—what if he added the factor of “first time” to these ordinary numbers?

Their City Lord. Their Creator.

He had never flown a plane before. Never even driven a car.

And yet, on his very first attempt, he had managed to produce a completely average result in a full-scale flight simulation.

This was his first time!

A real first time!

Zhu Yan couldn’t hide his shock. He set down his cup and strode toward the simulation room, leaving behind a group of confused researchers staring at each other.

Was he… mad?

When Zhu Yan pushed open the door, he saw his revered Creator deep into a second round of flight simulation.

His Creator was utterly focused.

That always expressive, endearing face now carried nothing but seriousness and concentration. Before every action, He Fang would lower his gaze slightly to confirm the control panel layout before executing the operation. There was even a manual open beside him.

And yet…

Even though He Fang was clearly unfamiliar with the controls and somewhat slow in response—on-screen, the aircraft remained astonishingly steady.

Just like a cautious first-time pilot, his operation was both nervous and careful, yet eerily precise.

Like someone who had simulated countless times before, despite this being his very first attempt.

Zhu Yan’s eyes widened in pure astonishment.

He stood silently behind He Fang, watching.

Suddenly, the system activated an extreme weather mode.

This mode altered the controls, making them significantly more challenging.

He Fang’s calm, clear voice rang out: “Play the extreme weather flight precautions at triple speed.”

The mechanical voice quickly obeyed.

At such a high speed, He Fang’s mental processing shouldn’t have been able to keep up.

Unless—

He already had a general grasp of the content and was only searching for key details.

Zhu Yan could not take his eyes off of He Fang.

For the first time, he was witnessing their Creator’s unwavering determination firsthand.

In the eyes of their revered Creator, there was a brilliant, star-like radiance.

No hesitation. No cautious restraint.

Instead, there was eagerness—a thirst for challenge and discovery.

It was an extremely rare boldness.

Zhu Yan heard his own heartbeat accelerate—not from fear, but from admiration and joy.

He instinctively pressed a hand against his chest, afraid that the sound of his pounding heart would disturb He Fang’s intense focus.

He could no longer maintain his usual cold and distant demeanor.

In fact…

He was beginning to suspect—

That he himself was no different from that devout Divine Lord, once glued to the window, staring in awe.

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