The Wanderer's Archive

Siegfried strolled leisurely toward his workstation, a faint smile playing on his lips as he flipped through the Wanderer's Handbook.

In the past, he wouldn't have bothered with this kind of situation—no benefit, only trouble.

The risk-reward ratio simply wasn't worth it.

But now? He was more than happy to use the Handbook and his Eidos to rid the world of this disgusting creep.

His tone was casual, almost indifferent, as if making small talk. Yet the sarcasm lacing his words cut deep, like a slap across the face.

Yang Jing's bright eyes widened slightly, her expression one of surprise.

Since her first day at the company, this man had exchanged only the bare minimum of words with her. Why would he suddenly step in to help her?

(Has his personality changed?)

Director Zhang, caught off guard, turned red, then pale, before reluctantly withdrawing his grubby hand.

He glanced at Siegfried's refined features and couldn't help but frown.

If there was one ordinary employee who dared oppose him, it was this guy.

The reason was simple: Siegfried had also joined the company through a high-level connection. Unlike Zhang, however, Siegfried had chosen to start from the bottom, while Zhang had waltzed straight into a leadership position.

In terms of rank, Zhang still outclassed him. So, if only to save face, he couldn't back down.

"Well, well, if it isn't Siegfried."

Zhang looked him up and down, clicking his tongue.

"Uncle Xie's nephew, as impressive as ever. How is the old man these days?"

This "Uncle Xie" was a close friend of Siegfried's late father—a legal consultant and shareholder of the company.

After Siegfried's parents died in an accident six years ago, Uncle Xie had taken care of him and his younger sister.

Though Zhang seethed inside, he forced a smile. After all, Uncle Xie held more sway on the board than even Zhang's own brother-in-law.

His words were a veiled reminder: You're a nepo baby too. Don't push your luck.

"Thanks for asking. Uncle's in excellent health. Though, Director Zhang, you look a bit… tired. Dark circles, pale complexion. Work must be exhausting."

Siegfried, however, either didn't notice or didn't care about the subtext. He fired back without hesitation, emphasizing the word "work" with particular relish.

Zhang's expression darkened. As fellow beneficiaries of nepotism, he hadn't expected Siegfried to be so brazen.

But as a seasoned office politician, he quickly regained his composure.

"Ah, those big clients are so hard to please. I'm at my wit's end. Say, Siegfried, you're so capable—why don't you take over the negotiations? I'll just… learn from you, hm?"

He dragged out the last word, his greasy smile returning.

The tension in the office thickened instantly.

The other employees buried their heads, stealing glances from the corners of their eyes.

In their hearts, they were rooting for the polite, easygoing Siegfried to come out on top.

But Director Zhang not only outranked him—he also had two decades more experience. This wasn't a fight a young man could win.

"Uh, Director Zhang, Siegfried hasn't been here long. He's not cut out for such a big order yet…"

A senior colleague who was close with Siegfried couldn't take it anymore and stepped in as mediator, shooting his impulsive junior warning looks.

But Siegfried remained unfazed, still flipping through the Wanderer's Handbook without so much as glancing at Zhang.

Name: Zhang YuGender: MaleAge: 40Education: Middle SchoolRace: Human

Deputy Director of Sales at Yali Electric. Rose to his position through his brother-in-law's connections. Routinely embezzles company funds and harasses female employees. Married with two children. Frequent patron of casinos and nightclubs, currently supporting two mistresses.

Stats:

Strength: E-

Agility: E-

Magic: /

Intelligence: D

Luck: B

Leadership: D

Overall Rating: E

(Luck B, huh? No wonder this idiot's kept his job so long.)

Siegfried silently吐槽ed. He'd discovered that manually searching the Handbook yielded far more details than Shannon's summaries.

For example, the next page contained photos of Zhang Yu partying with clients at high-end clubs, sneaking into hotels with his mistresses, and even shots of syringes and white powder—things too unsavory to describe.

The angles were so perfect, Siegfried half-suspected a professional paparazzo had been tailing Zhang around the clock.

This ready-made evidence saved him the trouble of figuring out how to use [Deceptive Discourse] to oust Zhang. These photos alone were enough to land the man in prison for life.

He tore out the incriminating page and said flatly:

"Experience? Yeah, I don't have that kind of experience. I'll have to learn from you, Director Zhang."

Zhang's smile froze. His ears turned red, then his face paled as his gaze traveled downward.

He snatched the paper, crumpled it, and stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper only Siegfried could hear. Gone was his earlier arrogance.

"You've been following me? Do you have any idea how illegal this is?"

"Of course. Invasion of privacy—my uncle's a lawyer. So I'll be turning myself in at the police station with this evidence. Oh, and I'll send a copy to your wife, as a personal apology."

Siegfried's voice carried clearly across the office.

His lips curled into a smirk, eyes brimming with mockery. There was no "apology" in his tone—only pure, unfiltered sarcasm.

"You—!"

Zhang's face flushed crimson, his breathing ragged as if he might pass out any second. Rage and panic warred in his eyes.

But under the watchful gazes of their coworkers, he couldn't make a scene. Forcing a smile, he said through gritted teeth:

"Siegfried, we're colleagues. Can't we talk this out like adults?"

Only then did Siegfried lower his voice, his tone icy:

"Prostitution aside, do you know the penalty for that stuff in our country?"

Zhang's face went white again.

"But as you said, we're colleagues. I won't make this hard for you—as long as you do me a small favor, none of this will leave this room."

Siegfried flashed a sincere smile, effortlessly activating [Deceptive Discourse].

Under the Eidos' influence, even this blatant lie sounded utterly convincing. The panicked Zhang immediately replied:

"Name it!"

"I'd like to have dinner with Chairman Wang—your brother-in-law. Can you arrange that?"

"My brother-in-law? Why?"

Zhang looked puzzled. He couldn't fathom why Siegfried would drag his relative into this.

Siegfried shrugged, sighing as if resigned.

"Truth is, Uncle doesn't want to pull strings for me. He thinks I should 'harden myself' at the grassroots level." He glanced at the towering stack of resumes on his desk. "But I'm sick of slumming it."

Zhang's eyebrows twitched. So that's it—the kid's uncle wasn't spoon-feeding him promotions, so he was switching allegiances.

His greasy smile returned.

"No problem! Leave it to me. But…"

He squeezed the strange paper in his hand, giving Siegfried a meaningful look.

Siegfried chuckled, his tone mysterious.

"What happens here, stays here."

Zhang left, his steps light, his expression almost cheerful.

He believed every word Siegfried said—so much so that he'd already mentally recruited the young man into his brother-in-law's faction.

Siegfried flipped the Handbook open again. The torn page had already regenerated, the damning photos still intact.

A slow smile spread across his face. [Deceptive Discourse] suited him perfectly. Though it had no direct combat use, its versatility in any situation—and against any target—made it far more powerful than it seemed.

[Wanderer, what are you doing?]

Shannon's ethereal voice rang out abruptly in his mind. By now, Siegfried was mostly used to these sudden interruptions.

"What? Do Chroniclers police their Wanderers' morals too?"

[No. Just curious.]

Siegfried blinked.

He'd always assumed the so-called Chroniclers were higher-dimensional beings—emotionless, inhuman entities enforcing some grand historical narrative.

But Shannon felt… oddly human. Emotional, even. That didn't seem like a Chronicler trait.

Objectivity and rationality were the cornerstones of recording history—whether for mortal historians or these self-proclaimed Chroniclers.

(Maybe she's the problem child of the Chroniclers? That's why she got stuck babysitting a wildcard like me.)

Keeping his thoughts to himself, he replied flatly: