Xyrin Empire

After more than a month, the house still looked the same as when we left, and it was immaculate, the floor so bright it could reflect a person's shadow, the walls seemingly scraped clean of dust, the coffee table appeared slightly shorter than when we left—I could imagine the frequency Anwina wiped the table when she had nothing to do, sometimes I even thought that ever since Anwina came, our living space was probably expanding at a rate of one square meter per year; considering the house prices in this area, our economic growth rate is almost equal to this city's minimum per capita income, now the only worry is whether the walls of this house can withstand Anwina's diligence...

But that's still better than Little Baobao scribbling all over her room. The little girl is currently in a remarkably creative burst period, and her graffiti is the biggest obstacle to the expansion of our living area—if no one stops her, I think sooner or later her room will be inaccessible.

As soon as we entered the living room, the first thing Qianqian and I did was throw ourselves onto the sofa, lying there like two exhausted fishes, panting. Actually, I wasn't tired, but if you don't do this, how could you express the excitement of returning home from a long trip—As for Qianqian, she was just following my lead because she saw me do it.

"Does the master want to eat first or take a bath, or..." Anwina stood by the sofa with a happy smile, eagerly speaking, I quickly waved my hand, "Go and cook quickly, if you finish that sentence, I probably won't need to eat today."

Anwina scratched her head in confusion and walked towards the kitchen, muttering to herself, "I just wanted to ask if the master would like a drink first..."

I was immensely embarrassed, and under the watchful eyes of the girls, I wished I could slip into the gap of the sofa cushions—then Dingdang made it happen for me by performing a high dive from my head, missed the mark, and got stuck in the sofa crevice.

"Anwina seems quite happy."

Big Sister pulled me up as if dealing with a naughty brother who had been playing outside all day and came home to roll on the sofa, and while tidying my clothes, she said with a smile.

Sayaka, who was tying an apron getting ready to help in the kitchen, turned her head with a particularly happy smile when she heard this: "Because everyone is finally back. The house felt eerily silent without you all, such a big place could be a bit scary to live in, especially since Sister Anwina is used to singing and cleaning at midnight... Now that everyone is home, the house has that homey feeling again."

Sayaka hummed as she walked towards the kitchen, leaving us looking at each other. I thought I hadn't considered this point before; living under the same roof with Anwina is indeed a test of acceptance, everything is great about this ghost maid, it's just that some ghostly traits can be a bit eerie, like singing at night—it's not a crime to sing at night, but when a ghost sings the Sin'dorei Elegy at night, it's a bit creepy. You should know Anwina normally can make a song like "Windmill" sound desolate.

It's bearable when we're all home, but when the whole family leaves and only a few are left to guard the house, Anwina's destructiveness geometrically increases.

Big Sister tidied up my wrinkled clothes, bent down to pick up Qianqian, and the others started heading to their rooms, planning to come down at mealtime. Just then, I suddenly felt a gaze on me, curiously looked up, and saw a small black silhouette flit past the stairwell on the second floor. Although I couldn't clearly see the face, those big red eyes were quite striking—naturally, even more so was the short stature that couldn't even reach the staircase handrail.

"Little Light! Stop hiding, I see you."

I waved at the staircase entrance, and sure enough, two seconds later, a small white head peeked out cautiously from behind the stair rail. Mercury Lamp made a face at me from above and then resolutely rolled down... yes, rolled down...

"Guaaa!" Little Baobao unceremoniously knocked Mercury Lamp aside, leaving the little doll rolling down the stairs and flew towards me from the second floor in a parabola. I was dumbfounded by the scene until, like being hit by an RPG rocket straight-on, I was knocked away by Little Baobao and shouted, "Oh no! This unlucky kid!"

"Buaaa! Daddy! Buaaah! Home!"

Little Baobao clung to my neck, rubbing against me relentlessly, looking as though she wouldn't stop until she rubbed a layer of skin off me. The little girl's speech was still garbled, her self-created Little Baobao language was always hard to understand, but this time, I sharply noticed that she seemed to have said one or two clear words amidst the babble. Although brief, it was almost understandable what she meant.

Suddenly, I sprang up like a carp leaping from water, with Little Baobao flipping like a cape onto my back, hanging there, giggling silly. The little girl's arm strength is not just for show, so when playing with Little Baobao, I mostly don't have to worry about accidentally flinging her off. Instead, most of the time, the headache is about how to get her off.

"The kid's speech has improved!" I said with delight to Big Sister beside me, while Little Baobao was still mumbling at the back. This time it was clearer, besides the word "Daddy" which she learned early, there were the words "Home, home," rolling off her tongue like an advertisement slogan from Hengyuanxiang. Lin Xue, sitting on a sofa not far away, was pouring herself some juice, watching us clowning around, after a long while, she muttered, "Tch, that golden fellow always teaches Little Baobao to say those three words when he had nothing better to do, sometimes even doing voice exercises on the balcony—the bird from the house across the street now knows how to say these three words, and that's a quail!"

I sweated, thinking to myself, compared to that, Little Baobao's language skills as the Empire's latest console are not even as good as a quail's level.

"Hey! Hey! You idiot! Until when do you plan to ignore me?"

A clear angry shout pulled me out from the thoughts of Little Baobao and the quail, looking up, a pair of lantern pants rapidly enlarged in my vision, and before I realized it, "bang," I was firmly smashed to the ground.

Little Baobao swiftly jumped aside, while Mercury Lamp rode on my chest, scratching and clawing, complaining about the dissatisfaction of the tumbling earlier and that someone should be punished for neglecting her. I looked at the angry little face in front of me and was a bit startled: Is this still that cold, stern chairman?

"What are you looking at!" Mercury Lamp yanked my hair hard, trying to pull my head off my neck, the wide Gothic lace cuffs brushing against my nose made me want to sneeze, "Stupid human! Where is the gift!"

"Gift?" I scratched my head, puzzled.

"Of course, the gift!" Mercury Lamp, sitting arrogantly atop me, said, "Before you left, didn't you say if you didn't take me, you'd bring a gift back! Don't tell me you didn't prepare one?"

At the end, Mercury Lamp's ruby-like beautiful big eyes narrowed dangerously, leaning her face within five centimeters of mine, a small tiger tooth gleamed coldly.

I am who I am, reflexes are a given, I promptly pulled a small bead from my pocket: "Here, a souvenir from Mobra."

Mercury Lamp, curious, took the bead and jumped to the side, cradling it in her little hands, giving it a bite, then frowning immediately: "This is the gift? Isn't it just a bead, stupid human, are you trying to fool me?"

"Hold it up to the light," I chuckled and suggested. Mercury Lamp looked at me skeptically, but curiosity got the better of her, she held up the translucent sky-blue bead to the light: "Hey? Stupid human, there's a little figure inside, it looks just like you!"

"That's me," I laughed triumphantly, "This is the hottest souvenir from Mobra, supposedly blessed by the Xyrin Emperor himself—a luck-changing bead. I also have a supposedly Sandora-blessed demon hunting gun..."

Mercury Lamp: "..."

Me: "...You can nibble on it."

During dinner, I ended up with a circle of teeth marks on my head. Mercury Lamp had a toothache and couldn't eat, so she had to drink two large bottles of yogurt, which she did in a fury, almost causing her to vomit.

But in all the commotion, one thing was quite clear: a certain little doll was in an exceptionally good mood today. She even came over on her own after dinner to ask me to tell stories from outside—a rare occurrence for her. Mercury Lamp typically puts on a cold face, remaining distant even though she shares a close bond with the family. She rarely chats when everyone's present. Normally, I tell her stories when it's late and quiet, but today's curiosity and sociability are unique for her.

Amidst the boisterous atmosphere, half a day at home passed quickly. Mental fatigue isn't something a spaceship cabin can alleviate. So, our whole family retired early, even Mercury Lamp wisely crawled back into her box without insisting on a bedtime story. Yet, despite some disturbances, I found it hard to fall asleep.

Dingdang was bouncing around on the bedside table beside me, swinging on the lamp, gnawing on the pen holder, fluttering her wings across the ceiling in diagonal patterns. After nightfall, Little Thing seemed especially energetic, raring awake when all were asleep. I had to accept the sad fact that Dingdang's jet lag would need to be reset... again.

A wordless night.

The next morning, I was awakened by Mercury Lamp descending from above—a month away made me less vigilant against her dive-bombing awake method. The bright sunlight spilling through the windows into the room made me reluctant to rise. Yet, Mercury Lamp, having reverted to her cold-faced persona, promptly lay on my chest before resolutely yanking my hair and dragging me onto the floor. While carrying the little doll to brush teeth and wash her face, I glanced at the bedside cabinet, and sure enough, Little Thing was sprawled out snoring, clutching an eraser. She probably excitedly stayed awake until dawn. This jet-lag-afflicted Little Thing was truly beyond help. But when I turned on the faucet in the washroom and prepared to brush teeth with Mercury Lamp, Dingdang instinctively woke up. She wobbled over to the sink, eyes closed, gulping half a cup of water from her tiny toothbrush cup, consuming two mouthfuls of toothpaste as well, before swaying back to bed to continue sleeping.

Mercury Lamp and I: "..."

It always feels like if Little Thing were left unattended, she would likely resurrect herself in the Divine Realm.

After breakfast, Sandora summoned me to Shadow City. At the fortress gate, she approached with a serious expression discussing a matter that made me realize that even back home, leisurely days would never come.

She said, "Ah Jun, we must consider how to accommodate those souls."

I knew what she meant: the ten thousand Dead Souls of the Revenge Army saved from Mobra World.

Sandora would never abandon them; setting up a haven for those ancient souls is her top priority after concluding the war. Currently, those souls are still preserved in the Leader Bee's Crystal Wings, where they sustain their presence through energy provided by the latter simulating the storage environment of the control core, but clearly, this isn't a permanent solution.

Taville is the epitome of restlessness; whenever her eyes are open, momentary idleness makes her restless—she'd even maintain several Mass Projections outside when resting. Upon returning to Shadow Space, she swiftly organized a massive group of Imperial Technicians equally workaholic as her to begin researching those ancient souls. Now, over a dozen hours have passed, given Imperial Technicians' efficiency, there should have been some preliminary intelligence analysis.

"Situation isn't well," Sandora bluntly said, leading me to stroll aimlessly across the fortress square at the gates, "We've been unable to return those souls to their bodies. None of the known Xyrin Apostle shells are compatible with their souls."

I knew Taville's initial research upon return was ensuring the Revenge Army's souls were stabilized, perhaps placing them into newly-made shells. But surprisingly, it took just one night for her to arrive at such a conclusion. From Sandora's decisive tone, it seemed an irrevocable decision.

"What's going on?" I slowed down, frowning at Sandora.

"You remember, right? They actually mentioned it at the time," Sandora too frowned, "They 'lost their bodies conceptually.' Initially, I didn't fully grasp it, but after Taville's analysis and PL-15's supplemental explanation, I now understand. Back then, to eradicate Abyss reactions within the Spiritual Network, not only did they separate their souls, they also twisted the way their souls existed, transforming them into information waves incompatible with anything possessing 'shell' definitions. Through such transformations, they prevented separated souls from having ties with previous bodies, eliminating Abyss survivors' dangers, ensuring separated souls can never manifest physically."

"That's drastic," I uttered in awe, thinking the Revenge Army were indeed decisive among Xyrin Apostle soldiers, truly disregarding everyone's lives, especially their own.

"At the time, there were no extra choices, every hint of cowardice and oversight could turn the last territory into an Abyss Nest," Sandora shook her head gently, dazzling golden hair swirling before my eyes, in an instant—in a way reminding of bygone war-torn stoic eras, "I'm not sure how they did it, it involves rewriting one's racial characteristics. Xyrin Apostle's racial traits are evolved over long ages into the current state—such as us gaining some Law Resistance from possessing the Xyrin name. Our ancestors spent nearly twenty million years cultivating this for the entire race. But they... while altering the manifestation style of their souls is simpler than bestowing a global race with Law Resistance, they achieved something extraordinary in that brief period."

"Didn't PL-15 reveal specifics?" My eyebrow lifted slightly, "He was a participant in the original plan, should've known some inside details, right?"

"The soul modification process was conducted by Imperial Technicians and mystics, most have dissipated over the years, and incomplete experiment data wasn't preserved. PL-15 just recalls it stemmed from a consortium experiment disaster recorded in Imperial history—a disaster-born technique. Initially, it caused Empire critical losses; but in those circumstances, the technique damaging souls garnered adversity's favor..."

Sandora kept talking, but I was already less attentive. Moments ago, a lightning-flash thought struck my mind, now resonating ominously at my cerebellum: I remembered someone!

The person Now Loading!

Oh yes, she also had a name—Gaia...

"Sandora," I held onto her shoulder, "Seems like your concern blinded you from connecting the dots. In fact, we know what that supposedly significant experimental disaster pertains to; we even know the disaster's survivor."

Sandora gazed at me puzzled.

"Gaia, of course!" I couldn't resist pinching Sandora's cheek, "Conceptually losing her body, stored in machinery as data while always unpossessed by shell systems—this perfectly describes Gaia's circumstances!" (To be continued. If you like this work, welcome to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, your support is my greatest motivation.)