The battle did not last long. It caused no deaths, nor did it spark any massive destruction or public uproar. At most, a few people suffered minor injuries and a brief fright.
Because of this, if anyone only counted on this close fight, it wouldn’t be enough to make everyone in Nevergone District feel forever thankful to Jing Pei. They definitely wouldn’t say that if Nevergone District had to accept an outside administrator, they’d happily pick her.
Nevergone District had very few surveillance cameras. However, the wealthy leader of the Qianlong Gang had fortunately installed security cameras at his private villa and several nearby strongholds. Before long, the residents managed to retrieve the footage and saw exactly what had happened.
Even the young, strong men of the Qianlong Gang, who usually bossed everyone around the district, felt chills and goosebumps when they watched the recording. Seeing themselves standing there like they were possessed, foolishly crowding into the villa just waiting to get caught, filled them with pure fear.
That was to say nothing of the crowds who had been drawn in later by the pheromones, swarming toward the villa to throw their lives away.
Only after watching the surveillance footage did they truly grasp how massive a debt they owed Jing Pei. If she had not arrived in time, every single one of them would have ended up as meat in the belly of that Spacetime Worm.
“You don’t have to be so polite,” Jing Pei told them with a warm smile. “I’m Min Yue’s friend. She told me you are her family, and her family is my family. When family is in trouble, of course I’ll lend a hand.”
Her dark eyes were clear and bright, carrying a warmth like a gentle spring breeze that put everyone at ease. It was as if the messy environment of Nevergone District, the dusty air, and the tattered, old clothes of the residents before her were completely normal, not deserving of any judgment or strange looks.
It was rare to see anyone glamorous in Nevergone District, let alone a young heir from a prominent Atavist family. Thus, her help, her smile, and her kind words felt incredibly precious, shining like diamonds. In an instant, she captured the hearts of countless residents.
As they accompanied Jing Pei out of Nevergone District, Min Yue kept pressing her with questions. “Now that everything is over, you’re still not going to tell me? Come on, tell me, otherwise how am I supposed to sleep? I’m definitely just an ordinary human, right? I heard that the five senses of Atavist descendants always get sharper, but mine haven’t changed at all. I’m definitely an ordinary human. Then how do I have this kind of ability? I can even feel the Spacetime Worm wandering in another dimension, while you don’t seem to sense it at all.”
“Yeah, why do you think that is?” Jing Pei teased.
“Stop keeping secrets!”
“I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll start crying again.”
Min Yue’s face went red, and she waved her hands around. “That… that was… Oh, stop talking about it! Haha!”
Having teased her enough, Jing Pei finally explained. “A fully grown Spacetime Worm is very powerful. They are massive and can tunnel through dimensions. If you chop one into eight pieces, it will regenerate into eight separate worms. Its thousands of tentacles carry a deadly neurotoxin. But it only gets all of those traits after hatching from an egg.
“However, Spacetime Worm eggs are highly nutritious, making them a popular food source for many creatures. Even though a Spacetime Worm egg already has a basic instinct to avoid danger and can roll around to hide, it still can’t escape being eaten. Because of that, they were once nearly driven to extinction.”
Min Yue nodded a lot, paying close attention. “Uh-huh, and then?”
“So, to ensure the survival and continuation of their species and genes, their DNA evolved a specific safeguard. This ability only exists while they are in the egg stage and disappears once they hatch.”
“What ability?” Min Yue found it fascinating, even though she never wanted to see a Spacetime Worm again in her life.
“While in the egg stage, they can foresee events forty-eight hours into the future. This allows them to roll away and hide in a safe spot before any predator even reaches them.”
Min Yue suddenly realized something, her expression freezing. “Ah…”
Jing Pei admired her expression and smiled. “Your mom just said you loved picking up random things and eating them when you were little. I’m wondering if an adult worm accidentally dropped an egg here, which you picked up and swallowed. That probably caused a mutation in your body, giving you the ability to turn back time forty-eight hours whenever you die.”
In the original novel, Min Yue indeed obtained her ability through this very coincidence. To save her mother, she had looped a hundred times in the original storyline, trying a hundred different methods before finally succeeding, though most of the people in Nevergone District were still eaten.
In those countless loops, she had acquired too much information that she shouldn’t have known, drawing suspicion and alarm from various factions. To protect her mother, she could only continue struggling through endless cycles of death and escape. For her, this ability was indeed a curse, like opening Pandora’s box.
Listening to Jing Pei, Min Yue also felt that her ability likely came about this way. It made perfect sense why she was the only one who could sense the Spacetime Worm’s presence, and why she was immune to its pheromones despite being an ordinary human.
But then, Min Yue recalled what insect eggs usually looked like and couldn’t help but picture herself eating one…
“Blech… barf… ugh…”
This was why parents had to keep a close eye on young children; they might put anything in their mouths, even chicken droppings.
The footage from the Qianlong Gang’s security cameras ended up with the city government and was quickly passed on to the higher-ups. They finally found out the truth behind the strange disappearances in Nevergone District over the last five hundred years and understood why the fiercely anti-outsider locals accepted Jing Pei.
When the mayor visited Nevergone District again, he brought the latest reform proposal for the area.
Several community representatives from Nevergone District were prepared. They still insisted that if an outsider had to manage them, it could only be Jing Pei. Otherwise, they would remain as stubborn and difficult as holdout residents refusing relocation.
“I know Long Jin did you a massive favor,” the mayor said. “But ultimately, she isn’t part of Hualan’s government, and she’s still a minor. We cannot accept your request, and I’m sure Long Jin wouldn’t accept it either.”
Min Yue clenched her fists. She had actually anticipated this, but were they really just going to accept outside management? On what grounds? She recalled the discrimination and prejudice she had faced during her first few lonely, helpless loops.
“After much discussion and consideration, we have decided that a local government for Nevergone District must be established. Don’t worry, let me finish.”
Squelching the protests, the mayor continued, “However, the administration will be recruited from within Nevergone District. The residents will elect and manage themselves, and the government will only provide assistance and support from the sidelines. How does that sound? Is this acceptable?”
Special cases required special treatment. Set up the structure first, ensure stable development, and exert a gentle influence. There was no need for violence; they were all unfortunate souls, not hardened criminals. In a few generations, Nevergone District would be no different from any other city.
The government’s proposal was completely unexpected, leaving the gang bosses stunned.
Min Yue’s eyes widened slightly, her heart beating a little faster. A spark of determination flared up inside her as a path she had never even imagined opened before her eyes.
She exchanged a glance with Min Jing.
Since it would be an internal election, she and her mother stood a solid chance of winning.
If they became the administrators of Nevergone District, they would gain power and influence. If Jing Pei ever needed help in the future, they could provide significant support, which wasn’t much different from Jing Pei managing the district herself.
The internal election in Nevergone District was heating up, making the place more lively than ever. Some information about the reforms even leaked online, but without official confirmation, few people believed it, and it barely made a ripple among the public.
By now, summer vacation had ended, and the new semester at the Twelve Zodiac Academy had begun. Jing Pei had advanced to the eighth grade, which made her a college-level student.
Normally, her classmates should have been the same group of people, since they were all young heirs or potential heirs of Atavist families, and they all studied the same subjects.
The comprehensive department, which covered business management, martial arts, law, and leadership studies, was practically custom-tailored by the Twelve Zodiac Academy to groom future family heads. Prominent family members usually had no choice but to attend.
When Jing Pei walked into the classroom, she saw some new faces and noticed a few old ones were missing—Feng Yilian and Chen Mo weren’t there. A few new classmates wanted to come over and talk but held back, maybe scared of being rejected, standing there unsure what to do.
Tao Ying walked in hand-in-hand with her fiancé. Seeing an empty seat next to Jing Pei, she immediately dragged him over.
“Ah Jin, Ah Jin!” Tao Ying’s voice was soft, sweet, and adorable, like a ripe peach. She clung tightly to Jing Pei’s arm, leaning in close.
“Good morning, Young Heir Long Jin,” the boy greeted her. His voice was flat, devoid of any rising or falling tones, matching his blank expression. A closer look at his eyes revealed something strange—they reflected a cold, metallic, inorganic light. He then reached out to pull Tao Ying upright.
“Please sit properly, Miss Tao Ying.”
“Xiao Yin is so annoying,” Tao Ying complained. It was rare for her to find Ah Jin without a crowd surrounding her.
Tao Ying, who was in the same group as Jing Pei last semester helping the police with a case, really liked her. But because of her Atavist traits, she was always tired and nodding off, so it was hard for her to chat much and get closer.
Fortunately, Jing Pei knew Tao Ying couldn’t help it and didn’t mind. “Good morning. We have quite a few new classmates, don’t we?”
Tao Ying nodded and whispered, “I heard it’s because of the vote. Lianhua and the others were grounded by their families. Everyone in their houses is furious, and even Tang Qiaoqiao got scolded.”
That explained why so many strangers showed up; the Atavist families probably felt they needed to train some backups just in case. After all, the main heirs they had worked hard to prepare might now be at risk.
The rules of the game had changed. The votes had been cast by the Atavist families themselves, yet those who couldn’t keep up with the times wouldn’t accept this so easily.
“Oh? What about you guys? How did you vote?”
“In favor, of course,” Tao Ying nodded as if it were obvious.
Jing Pei asked, “Then how come you weren’t grounded?”
“Because everyone is too busy sunbathing in their holes. No one has time to be angry.”
Jing Pei found her very cute and smiled, pinching Tao Ying’s soft, peach-like cheek.
The Lou family was forced to lay low because of Lou Ting’s presence, but the Tao family was different. They had always been very low-key and laid-back. Every Atavist in their family was a massive slacker who loved nothing more than being planted in the soil to sunbathe.
This was a characteristic brought on by their Atavist genes.
The Tao family’s non-human ancestor was a peach blossom tree spirit. Peach blossoms loved soil and sunlight; without enough sun, they wouldn’t bloom or bear fruit.
If there was an Atavist family in the world destined to die of laziness, it would certainly be the Tao family. When so many moles from the illegal Atavist serum organization were rooted out, the Tao family was the only major clan without a single traitor—simply because they were too lazy to do anything.
Yet, they hadn’t managed to lounge themselves to death over all these years. They remained a powerful Atavist family and, in the original novel, actually became the most critical element linked to whether the organization’s ultimate plan would succeed. There was a very specific reason for this.
Jing Pei glanced at the boy. He sat perfectly straight with his hands resting on his knees, his face expressionless, but he was secretly nudging Tao Ying with his foot, trying to pull her away.
“Liu Yin,” Jing Pei called out.
Liu Yin looked at her.
“Sit here. Don’t go too far from me,” Jing Pei said.
The young couple blinked in surprise.
Jing Pei smiled and added, “I want to sit with classmates I’m familiar with.”
That day, a small passenger airship departed from the Kingdom of Pimashila. After a voyage of three days and two nights, it landed at the Yunjin Prefecture International Dock.
Four people stepped off the airship—two men and two women. They had brown skin and dressed in a striking, unique style. Each of them wore more gold ornaments than actual fabric, with colorful feathers on their heads or hanging from their earrings. They looked both luxurious and primitive, immediately drawing a lot of attention the moment they landed.
Passersby quickly raised their phones to take pictures but backed off fast and put them away after getting a sharp, intense glare from a broad-faced, dark-skinned giant in the group.
“Let’s go. We don’t have much time. We must find her as soon as possible,” the giant spoke, muttering in an obscure, minor language.
“I can smell her scent. After hiding for so many years, it has never been this clear. She is definitely hiding here,” a petite woman in the group said.
“Let’s go.”
