GRMFBS CH77

Riding the wave of fresh inspiration, Zhan Suiru pulled an all-nighter and finally got about seventy to eighty percent of the Tianshi’s commission done.

What made this task troublesome, as she put it, was the need to fuse a spiritual-type ability into the item. In the apocalypse, abilities were likewise categorized, and “spiritual” was one of them.

But after crossing into this world, Zhan Suiru discovered something odd:

They possessed abilities similar to spiritual systems—such as a cultivator’s divine sense—but there were no spiritual-type abilities per se.

No one in this world’s transcendent sphere seemed to object to this—perhaps some did, but only within higher circles, and Zhan Suiru had no way to know yet.

Spirit is the manifestation of the soul’s activity; dead things have no spirit, cannot generate spiritual power, nor use it—at best, they can store it.

Blending spirit with objects was a magician’s specialty; her props all bore the trait of “animation,” which meant instability. But what the Tianshi demanded was stability.

Zhan Suiru stretched. “Xiao Ran, pour me a coffee.”

Dawn had paled the sky from gray‑violet to light blue. The fully enclosed workshop blocked out all morning light and birdsong, blurring time to the utmost. It didn’t interfere with the doll butler’s precise internal clock.

“It is now five‑thirty in the morning.” The doll butler began elegantly hand‑brewing coffee. “Master, I must remind you: drinking coffee on an empty stomach can lead to chronic gastritis, gastric ulcers, palpitations, hand tremors, and increased cardiac load; long periods of not eating can cause electrolyte imbalance, cerebral hypoperfusion, gallstones…”

He listed the symptoms one by one, then started frothing milk. “Staying up late can cause hair loss, neurasthenia, memory decline…”

By the time he finished that string of ailments, a lovely rosette sat atop the coffee.

“And you have already missed three meals within their optimal tasting window.” The doll butler set down a sandwich and the coffee before her.

Uncharacteristically, Zhan Suiru listened to the long nag without refuting it. She tossed the rough semi‑finished piece on the table to the doll butler.

“Take a look.”

The doll butler carefully caught the preliminary product that had taken her so many hours. “Master, I am only a doll. I do not create.”

He gently set the rough piece back on the table. “Please cherish your work. I would rather not continue facing a master driven mad by creative block.”

Zhan Suiru took a sip of coffee, bit into the sandwich, and grunted, “Mm.”

“Xiao Ran, do you remember where you heard that line about ‘gastritis and gastric ulcers’?” she asked.

The doll butler froze, standing there, bewildered.

“That was something I told you once.” Zhan Suiru swallowed and looked up at him, gaze heavy as substance.

The gears in the doll butler’s pupils stalled for a few seconds, then resumed turning. He asked calmly, with puzzlement, “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” Zhan Suiru withdrew her gaze.

She wasn’t the creation‑type ability user. Yang Ran was.

She had originally been spiritual‑type.

Yang Ran had tried countless times to create tools with spiritual‑type capability, so she could finally rest and not shoulder the safety of the entire base all by herself.

He hoped it would help her get better.

Unfortunately, neither of them ever succeeded.

She closed her eyes. The doll butler silently massaged her head.

Zhan Suiru thought she would fall asleep, but she didn’t.

Better environments make people delicate; she’d even picked up the quirk of needing her own bed. But she didn’t really want to go home. Her parents were on business trips, her eldest brother and Yan Yan weren’t around either—the house was empty. Otherwise she wouldn’t have dared to pull an all‑nighter in the black market.

“You have a new WeChat message,” the doll butler said.

Zhan Suiru opened her eyes. “Let me see.”

It was from Zhan Yan: “I’ve got an art salon invitation—want to go?”

She opened the photo of the invite. It was a pretty high‑end salon in the circle, not easy to get a ticket.

She propped her cheek and smiled through her weariness.

The sun rose; people were waking. The family group chat became lively.

Dad asked what they wanted to eat; he’d make it when he got back in a couple days.

Mom asked if their allowance was enough; if not, she’d send more.

The socially anxious big brother posted his recent fondant cakes—visibly more and more refined.

Yan Yan posted his biceps, with the school track in the background.

Zhan Suiru set her fingers on the keyboard: “Zhao Wen said Aunt Bai made a bunch of pastries again; she told me to pick them up when I’m free. I’ll mail you some.”

Zhan Yan got the art salon invitation from Luan San—Luan Jin’s grandfather saw the box of pastries he delivered and thought their wavelengths matched, so he told him, “You young people should keep in touch.”

Luan Jin accepted the mission reluctantly—not thrilled. What resonance could a vet student have with him? He did art. Art!

But after a few chats, Luan Jin realized Zhan Yan was really a good listener!

So he started talking about his muse— the lionfish demoness.

Why did this “stand‑in” resemble his white moonlight so much! Even the way she sparked inspiration was the same!

Luan Jin couldn’t help projecting feelings, and then felt guilty toward his white moonlight—now he also felt guilty toward Yu Xia. QAQ

If he had simply paid someone to play a stand‑in, that would be one thing—cash on the nail, clean transaction.

But he’d been too embarrassed to say it then, and the two of them had interacted as friends.

Yu Xia treated him as a friend; he treated her as a stand‑in. He was scum.

So Zhan Yan watched Luan Jin pour his heart out, day after day. It was the first time he’d had gossip stuffed into his mouth so passively—no choice but to “eat” it.

But he couldn’t exactly tell him that his white moonlight and the stand‑in were the same person. If he did, Luan Jin would think he’d lost his mind.

Zhan Yan gently suggested he might consider telling Yu Xia the truth.

Luan Jin absolutely did not dare.

Then there was nothing for it. Friend, continue to stew.

Zhan Yan mailed the art salon invitation to his sister and received a package of pastries in return.

Waaah—thanks, Aunt Bai!

After he shared the treats in the dorm, everyone started thanking Aunt Bai together.

Zhan Yan munched on pastries while scrolling the melon feed. He had a habit: every so often, he would search the names of family and friends together with “anomaly” as keywords, in case something had targeted them.

The gossip system’s special watchlist still hadn’t given him more slots; even Gu Jiancheng hadn’t made the cut yet. He had to search manually.

Most of the time, nothing turned up—the Abnormal Affairs Management Bureau’s work was solid, and most ordinary people rarely brushed up against anomalies.

But today he found this:

[Qin Jinwei thinks Zhao Wen has uncovered evidence of his crimes. He’s very worried and decides to strike first—spending 2 million to hire a hitman to assassinate Zhao Wen. His murderous intent has attracted an A‑class anomaly: “Killing Game.”]

Zhan Yan: !!!

With a dangerous anomaly involved, the first step was the Abnormal Affairs Management Bureau! But the person behind the “Ling Yu” account was unreliable for now.

Zhan Yan finally remembered the forum had a report phone number. Using the gossip system as cover, he made an anonymous report call.

There was also the hitman issue—he needed to warn Sister Wen. He used the gossip system to dial Yunjin City’s police line and anonymously reported that Qin Jinwei had hired a killer.

He looked into Qin Jinwei as well. The man was a wealthy businessman who’d started in contracting, later moved into subcontracting—skimming margins and using plenty of illegal methods. Zhao Wen was investigating him.

The intel quickly reached Zhao Wen. She was fiery when working cases. Hearing someone wanted her dead, her willow brows shot up, and she slammed the table: “Trying to kill me? That means I’m on the right track! I’ll sit right here and keep digging! Let’s see who dares come!”

Anonymous tips aren’t admissible evidence; while the police moved, Zhan Yan kept a close eye on the Bureau’s response—this was the part he feared most!

With Sister Wen at the police station, she really didn’t fear a hitman causing trouble. But the anomaly was terrifying! Not something ordinary people could handle!

“Killing Game”—the name alone screamed danger, and it was A‑class! Zhan Yan’s anomaly board barely had any A‑class entries at all.

The Bureau seemed to have special methods. They confirmed quickly he wasn’t making a false report and dispatched an elite squad.

Zhan Yan continued digging into this anomaly.

Anomalies are drawn to malice—it’s their favorite food. Different anomalies prefer different flavors of ill will; “Killing Game” prefers human murderous intent toward their own kind.

Its modus operandi is to bind a host, amplify the host’s murder, brutality, and cruelty, feed on the victim’s fear and pain to grow, while giving the host some energy feedback. Once the host is fattened, it eats the host.

Zhan Yan suddenly noticed a point: “Killing Game” had been attracted by Qin Jinwei’s murderous intent and bound to him. But Qin Jinwei chose to pay for a hitman—he was rich and had no plans to do it himself.

Yet “Killing Game” can only feed on the fear and pain of victims personally killed by its host.

[Hitman Guang Weifan accepted Qin Jinwei’s 2 million contract. “Killing Game” unbound from Qin Jinwei and re‑bound to hitman Guang Weifan, dropping from an A‑class anomaly to a B‑class anomaly.]

For “Killing Game,” this misstep wasn’t exactly a loss. It had fallen from A‑class and could rise again once it fed enough. A professional killer’s personal murders would be more frequent than a businessman’s; it wouldn’t take long to make up the difference.

Meanwhile, the Bureau’s strike team was working at blinding speed. They’d found Qin Jinwei already—but came up empty. “Killing Game” had unbound.

The team lead was Black Wolf—one of the Bureau’s top‑ranked powerhouses, the highly combative, seasoned kind. He immediately chased the trail to Guang Weifan.

[Hitman Guang Weifan subcontracted the assassination to hitman Xing Guangqing for 1 million, hiring him to kill the target Zhao Wen.]

[“Killing Game” unbound from Guang Weifan and re‑bound to hitman Xing Guangqing, dropping from B‑class to C‑class.]

[Hitman Xing Guangqing decided his personal safety mattered more and subcontracted the job to hitman Hua Shixin for 300,000, hiring him to kill Zhao Wen.]

[“Killing Game” unbound from Xing Guangqing and re‑bound to hitman Hua Shixin, dropping from C‑class to D‑class.]

[Hitman Hua Shixin felt the target was too far and didn’t want to act, so he subcontracted for 100,000 to hitman Ba Duo Hai, hiring him to kill Zhao Wen.]

[“Killing Game” unbound from Hua Shixin and re‑bound to hitman Ba Duo Hai, dropping from D‑class to E‑class.]

[Hitman Ba Duo Hai thought 100,000 was too little— not worth killing for—so he called Zhao Wen, hoping she’d cooperate so they could split the money.]

Zhan Yan started out tense, and by now was simply speechless.

All he could say was—astonishing.

In the information age, subcontracting and communication move fast—so fast that Black Wolf and the Bureau team chased their tails and struck out four times in a row.