“Is this its true form?” Tang Jizhi looked at the System with an air of relaxed detachment.

 

002 gave a faint grunt of affirmation. “The System was originally composed of a data collective. Previously, it only projected fragments of its data before us, so destroying its avatars was useless.”

 

“How did you find its core?” Tang Jizhi asked.

 

002 smiled but remained silent.

 

“Ji Zhi, if he doesn’t want to say, don’t press him,” Lan Tong interjected.

 

002 glanced at Lan Tong.

 

Lan Tong led Tang Jizhi to the box and leaned down slightly, addressing the furious robot inside: “How does it feel to be a prisoner?”

 

The robot unleashed a torrent of garbled curses. After finishing its rant, it roared, “If you have the guts, let me out!”

 

The box acted as a cage; all of its abilities were suppressed.

 

“It’s been years, but your speech has certainly become more fluent,” Tang Jizhi noted with interest. “Even if I let you out, what do you plan to do? You even tried to plagiarize my creativity to deal with me in the final theme. I feel embarrassed for your IQ.”

 

System: “…”

 

“What do you have to be proud of?” the System said coldly. “Could you have survived until now without the Magical Sketchbook?”

 

“Speaking of which…” Tang Jizhi smiled very tenderly. “I actually have to thank you. Without you, how would I have found a way to create a ‘god-tier’ artifact like the Magical Sketchbook that defies the rules?”

 

Indeed, the Magical Sketchbook was a “divine tool” Tang Jizhi created by deciphering the rules and then violating them. To put it simply, during his time as a Sub-System, he seized a “loophole” in the System’s structure to bring the sketchbook into existence.

 

No matter how angry the System became, there was nothing it could do. The Magical Sketchbook was a creation existing outside the established rules; even the System could not destroy it.

 

“Shameless!” the System shrieked. “I gave you the power of a god, and not only were you disloyal, but you also worked against me in secret. If not for my mercy, you would have been dead long ago.”

 

“And you two!” It swept its gaze over Lan Tong and 002. “I granted all your requests, yet you all betrayed me!”

 

“First of all, let me correct you.” Tang Jizhi held up a finger. There were no “lamps” in this space, yet the light was abundant, making his handsome face look exceptionally soft.

 

However, his eyes were as cold as a sharp blade, piercing the robot.

 

“You pulled me into the System Assessment without my consent. Every assessment had new people joining—all of whom were randomly abducted by you.”

 

“In every assessment, more than ten people died. At the end, the thirty survivors were ranked according to the score line you set. I became 001.

 

You gave me the power to control and create as a Sub-System, making me design different themes to drag people from lower planes into live broadcasts to provide a ‘unique’ show for the audience.”

 

“The order you gave was: the lower the survival rate of the streamers, the higher the rewards for the Sub-System. A low survival rate meant the chosen streamers failed to survive the theme.

 

Once they failed, the next streamer was immediately swapped in, losing their lives one after another in the broadcast.”

 

“At that point, you threw a ‘carrot’ to the Sub-Systems: the more rewards they earned, the better their chance to leave, return to their normal world, and live a normal life.”

 

“So… the Sub-Systems who wanted to go home would naturally find ways to increase the difficulty of the themes, making it harder for those ‘lucky ones’ to survive.”

 

After saying so much in one breath, Tang Jizhi paused briefly and continued, “Do you even know how many people died in your broadcasts?”

 

System: “Survival of the fittest. If they lacked the skill and died, they died. What does that have to do with me?”

 

A mechanical arm turned and pointed at Lan Tong. “If you want to be so compassionate, the person you should blame and hate is him.”

 

The System suddenly cackled. Its previous rage vanished, and it began hopping around in the box like a child, chirping, “If he hadn’t founded Yingfeng Live, I would never have been born.”

 

Reflected in the robot’s body were icy blue eyes. Lan Tong’s voice was deep: “The original purpose of the live broadcast was to have death row inmates deal with monsters mutated by dark matter.

 

It was meant to save military lives and give the inmates a chance to survive if the audience voted for them.”

 

It was similar to talent shows where newcomers showcased various skills, and the audience voted for their favorites. Ultimately, the votes determined whether the newcomer debuted or left the stage.

 

The audience of Yingfeng Live held the lives of death row inmates in their hands. To gain the audience’s favor and support, an inmate had to shed their aura of a desperate criminal.

 

Those hands that had once committed atrocities and spilled the blood of compatriots would now only be stained with the blood of monsters, using their abilities to do some good for the country.

 

At first, the effect was excellent. Batches of inmates scheduled for execution were sent to planets infested with monsters.

 

Armies were stationed there year-round to ensure not a single monster escaped to human-inhabited planets. Every day, the names of soldiers were etched into those planets forever.

 

Every death row inmate was a dangerous individual, but they all shared one trait: fear of death. Given a chance to live, they fought for it.

 

Some died while hunting monsters. Of the survivors, some were favored by the audience and granted a pardon.

 

They were then absorbed into the military to continue hunting monsters, no longer participating in the broadcasts.

 

They were strictly forbidden from killing one another. They either hunted alone or cooperated; betrayal was not tolerated.

 

Because their every move was monitored by the audience, no one would support a person who resorted to unscrupulous means or pushed a teammate into a monster’s mouth.

 

If such a thing happened, their support rating would plummet; even if they survived the monsters, they would face execution.

 

Under these rules, these inmates slowly learned to unite for their lives, gradually building trust and beginning to respect life.

 

Human nature is complex.

 

Batches of inmates were spared and given a new lease on life.

 

Most stayed in the military for redemption, though a small few hid their dark intentions, faking reform just to escape… but Bai Ling, who watched closely,

 

had formed a specialized “clean-up” squad of elites he trained personally to execute such individuals in secret.

 

So, in the beginning, Yingfeng Live was a trial for every viewer to judge death row inmates. But later, the content of Yingfeng Live diversified.

 

In addition to the trials, a new category was added: “Streamer Survival.” Audiences found different streamers appearing in various survival themes.

 

Humans are naturally curious; the audience shifted their focus to this new category, subconsciously projecting themselves into the streamers’ perspectives and following them on their adventures.

 

Furthermore, Yingfeng Live explicitly explained that these streamers were randomly snatched from other lower-plane dimensions—some participated voluntarily, but the citizens of the Empire were not allowed to join.

 

Under the System’s guidance over time, some viewers began to accept the deaths of streamers within the themes as a matter of course. No one felt there was anything wrong with the broadcast. Every viewer took it for granted that this was reasonable.

 

Thus, Yingfeng Live became the Empire’s favorite platform—without equal.

 

…

 

“You exist only because you are attached to the broadcast, which is why you couldn’t easily strike at the founder, Bai Ling. Yet, you can manipulate the broadcast to your heart’s content, turning a healthy platform into a killing game.

 

You knew this would alert Bai Ling; with his personality, he would never allow his broadcast to spiral out of control.

 

He was bound to find the cause. A confrontation between you two was inevitable,” Tang Jizhi said suddenly.

 

“Even if you wanted to get Bai Ling’s attention, there were many ways. Why choose this one? What is your goal?”

 

System: “Aren’t you very smart? Can’t you guess?”

 

“Who says being smart means I can guess everything?” Tang Jizhi blinked like an inquisitive child, asking sincerely about things he didn’t understand.

 

Surprisingly, the System was susceptible to this approach. It snorted and said something that caught all three people present off guard—

 

“My original world was a massive reality show world. Everyone lived under the lens, monitored in everything they did. Every day was a struggle to avoid being killed. And I was the operating system for that reality show.”

 

“Broadcasting, survival, death… these are all parts composed of data. This is what I was born to do. In my world, every live show only takes a break once the death toll reaches a certain number.”

 

“Do you think I wanted to come here? To go back, I must have enough soul power to open the door.” The System swept a glance at the two men. “You low-level creatures have such poor soul quality. Only you…”

 

It looked toward Tang Jizhi. “Only you are somewhat decent. Otherwise, how do you think you were able to open the gates of space and summon any living being you can draw through a mere notebook?”

 

Suddenly, the System’s voice became seductive: “My world is the highest level of civilization. There are countless resources there. I can take you back with me and make you above ten thousand, second only to one.”

 

“Go back with you to join a reality show?” Tang Jizhi scoffed, pulling out the Magical Sketchbook. “With this, I can open the gates of space at any time and summon any help I want. Aren’t you afraid I’d turn your world upside down?”

 

The robot’s face showed no change, but the System clearly faltered. It wanted to say more, but Tang Jizhi interrupted unceremoniously, “Save it. Do you really think you’re going back?”

 

Regardless of whether the System was telling the truth, it didn’t matter anymore.

 

The System fell silent. It likely knew that Tang Jizhi would not let it go.

 

However, it was unwilling to end it like this. It pointed viciously at 002: “If you destroy me, he will disappear too. Tang Jizhi, for your sake, he was willing to endure the pain of splitting his soul. Now that you have this one,” it glanced mockingly at Lan Tong before returning its gaze to Tang Jizhi, “you don’t want the other?”

 

“What is the difference between the main body and the avatar?” Lan Tong said calmly. “They are both me. What does it matter if one disappears?”

 

“Even if he didn’t disappear, I would find a way to make one of us vanish,” he said, turning to Tang Jizhi with a meaningful curl of his lips. “I’m afraid that with two ‘me’s, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

 

Tang Jizhi: “…” 002: “…” System: “…”

 

“It’s getting late. This should all come to an end.” Lan Tong’s cold fingers clasped Tang Jizhi’s, his eyes full of encouragement.

 

---

 

After Yingfeng Live could no longer be opened, the audience waited anxiously for three days. Complaints and inquiries nearly crashed the headquarters’ phone lines. Finally, after three days, viewers discovered the broadcast could be accessed again.

 

Then they found the broadcast had been revamped. No, not revamped—the homepage now featured only one streamer: the popular Tang Jizhi.

 

All other streamers were gone.

 

While Tang Jizhi was the most popular, there were others with significant followings. Seeing only Tang Jizhi left, some viewers were outraged. They swarmed Tang Jizhi’s stream to post strings of insults, but were Tang Jizhi’s billions of fans just going to sit there?

 

They fired right back.

 

For a while, the chat was a toxic mess of witty insults and “greetings.” It took some time for someone to notice—

 

Where is Tang-Tang?

Is that a T-Rex running on the white cat’s belly?

Is Little Red Riding Hood talking to a Smurf in the corner?

What happened? Did the last theme get cleared?

Why isn’t it showing the name of the new theme…

 

The broadcast showed a lush green prairie dotted with colorful wildflowers. One could almost smell the refreshing scent of grass through the screen. The sky above was a clear, cloudless blue, like a canvas draped over the firmament.

 

The Great White Cat lay on the grass, its belly rising and falling rhythmically with its breath. The shrunken T-Rex had grown slightly to about half a meter tall and was walking back and forth on the cat’s stomach.

 

The Tengshe had coiled itself into a circle, and on its head stood Gua-Gua, fluttering in the wind.

 

The Demon Vine was rooted in the soil, letting itself go as its five vines danced in the air like ribbons, chasing bees and butterflies.

 

The Zhuque sat in a magnificent tree, preening its feathers, its beautiful tail feathers hanging down with a seven-colored shimmer.

 

The Manta Ray floated in a pond, its temporary little sea—it thought it would be nice if a few more Tiger Sharks were added.

 

Pikachu held an ear of corn from somewhere, nibbling with great relish, its tail standing high in delight with occasional sparks of electricity. However, before it could finish two bites, the Great Sage, Heaven’s Equal, rushed over and snatched it away.

 

Pikachu, angry: “Pika!” That was mine!

 

“Little Blue, where did you go before?” Little Red Riding Hood was whispering to the Smurf.

 

The Smurf twisted its little hands shyly and shook its head, its large eyes looking longingly at a specific spot.

 

Under the tree where the Zhuque sat, Tang Jizhi, dressed in white, sat leaning against the trunk. He held a sketchbook, his slender, clean fingers gripping a pencil as he slowly sketched. The tip of the pencil made a fine “rustle” as it touched the paper.

 

The audience hadn’t seen Boss Tang draw in a while. As the camera moved, old fans watched excitedly, wondering what he was drawing this time.

 

When they saw clearly, they were stunned.

 

Boss Tang wasn’t drawing an animal or a person, but a simple wooden door. It looked like it was almost finished.

 

Someone noticed that all the magical creatures were present. Even Snow White, who hadn’t appeared in the frame earlier, was there. She wore a simple hemp dress; her burnt hair had grown out and was tied loosely behind her head. There were a few mud streaks on her exquisite cheeks.

 

She held a small hoe, her eyes gentle and serene. Her temperament and expression were completely different from before—though she had the same face, she seemed like a different person.

 

Three days ago, the System was destroyed by Tang Jizhi’s own hands. After its destruction, everything related to the System should have vanished. The humans in the different themes and the remaining Sub-Systems should have dissipated into thin air.

 

However, at that moment, Tang Jizhi had a strange sensation. He seemed to have become the System’s replacement. With just a thought, those who were dragged into the themes and forced to survive could go home.

 

He saw Shi Xiao’an and Luo Die on the [Demon Island]. When Tang Jizhi cleared that theme, he had received a detoxification pill and left it behind to clear the virus on the island. Now the virus was gone, and after he left, no one else entered the theme. The people living there were no longer plagued by the virus; the Adam Tribe developed rapidly, and Shi Xiao’an and Luo Die became high-ranking members.

 

Shi Xiao’an was exactly the same as before—chattery and a bit annoying.

 

“Brother, where do you think Tang Jizhi went?” For some reason, Shi Xiao’an suddenly thought of Tang Jizhi and asked Luo Die across the dinner table.

 

Luo Die smiled. “He probably went home.”

 

“Then do you want to go home?” Suddenly, a familiar yet distant voice rang out in their ears. Once they realized who the voice belonged to, they were stunned, unable to find their voices for a moment.

 

“Go home. We’ll meet again if fate allows.”

 

Before they could ask, everyone alive on [Demon Island] vanished, returning to where they came from.

 

Then it was [Grimm’s Fairy Tales], [Mirage], [Grotesque Novels]—everything returned to its original state.

 

No one suddenly vanished from their home only to appear in a strange place as a missing person. No one suddenly lost consciousness and died in a strange space, causing their physical body to stop breathing and be diagnosed by a forensic doctor as death by overwork.

 

Tang Jizhi sent home everyone he could.

 

He stayed in [Mirage] for a bit longer. The System had set his own world as a new theme, mixing truth and falsehood. Now, everything was restored. The dead could not be brought back, but distorted memories could be recovered.

 

When all the illusions vanished, Tang Jizhi saw Cheng Guofeng, the head of the Special Management Department. He indeed looked exactly like Tang Jizhi’s father, as if they were the same person.

 

However, Tang Jizhi was certain that his parents were already resting eternally underground.

 

In his world, he didn’t have many friends and preferred solitude. If he had enough supplies, he could stay home forever. His best friend was Tong Huan; other than that, he had no attachments.

 

Tong Huan had family, friends, and many strange ideas. He could live a vibrant, non-boring life.

 

But now, his only attachment was in another place.

 

Tong Huan felt like he had a dream—an apocalyptic scenario with massive monsters destroying homes. He was even chased by giant earthworms, and then Tang-Tang saved him. In the dream, Tang-Tang was a total badass. Also… he seemed to dream that Tang-Tang’s father became a major figure, very powerful.

 

Tong Huan tried hard to remember the details, but the more he tried, the faster the memories faded until he couldn’t remember anything at all.

 

Sunlight streamed through the window. Tong Huan gave a long stretch, grumbled a few times, and picked up his phone to call Tang Jizhi. He wanted to share this dream with him.

 

The call went through quickly. Tong Huan was so excited he was practically dancing. “Babe, you won’t believe it! I had this super long, super weird, super awesome dream last night. You were a total badass in it, like some legendary hero saving the world… but I forgot all the details.”

 

He babbled on and then stopped halfway. “Tang-Tang?”

 

That wasn’t right. Usually, when he talked like this first thing in the morning, Tang Jizhi would have barked at him impatiently.

 

“Tong-Tong, I’m leaving.”

 

“Leaving?” Tong Huan froze, then reacted with shock. “You’re going on a trip? Alone? How about I come with you? If someone bullies you, I can help you beat them up.”

 

“I’m going to a place far away,” Tang Jizhi said. “If I have the chance, I’ll come back to find you.”

 

Tong Huan panicked. “How far is ‘far’? The South Pole? North Pole? Holy crap, babe, are you secretly in a relationship and going to meet them in person?”

 

It had to be said that Tong Huan had actually hit the nail on the head.

 

“Hmm…” Tang Jizhi laughed and admitted it directly. “Correct.”

 

Tong Huan: “…”

 

“Is your ‘correct’ about the trip to the poles, or about the relationship?”

 

Tang Jizhi was concise: “The second one.”

 

Tong Huan: “…………”

 

“Alright,” Tang Jizhi ended the cross-spatial conversation. “We’ll talk later.”

 

“Hello?! Hello!!” Tong Huan was stunned. He immediately got out of bed, packed, and drove straight to Tang Jizhi’s villa. He had a spare key, but the house was empty. Nothing was there. He called again—it was out of the service area!

 

---

 

Lou Yu felt that just a second ago, he was struggling on a path home provided by Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother, but no matter how he walked, there were always obstacles. Suddenly, he vanished. When he opened his eyes again, he saw familiar streets and buildings.

 

This was what a normal city looked like.

 

Everything was so familiar, yet so strange. No one noticed his sudden appearance. He walked aimlessly down the street until he stopped abruptly at a lamppost.

 

A missing person notice was posted there. The photo was of him. It read: Lou Yu left home on [Date/Year] and subsequently went missing.

 

The name of the final contact person made his eyes well up. It was his mother.

 

“…You, are you Lou Yu?” a hesitant voice asked from the side.

 

Lou Yu turned stiffly, his eyes red. When the person saw his face clearly, they took a large step back, staring at him strangely. “It says here you went missing in [Year]… you’ve been missing for twenty years?”

 

“What twenty years? It’s clearly only been half a…” Lou Yu’s voice trailed off as he saw the date on a distant electronic screen. Thinking of something, his whole body trembled violently, and then he bolted.

 

He had to go back. He had to go home!

 

---

 

[Grimm’s Fairy Tales] had ended its cycle of reincarnation. Tang Jizhi sent Little Red Riding Hood and Snow White back. They could live anew in their world. After Little Red Riding Hood reunited with her grandmother, she still decided to follow Tang Jizhi.

 

Snow White went for a tour and returned as the original Snow White, retaining parts of her memory as Eve. For example, she remembered the interesting phenomena she saw in other themes after leaving [Grimm’s Fairy Tales]. Thus, like Little Red Riding Hood, she decided to remain a “member of the sketchbook” and follow Tang Jizhi to see the new world.

 

That was why the scene of Snow White planting flowers with a hoe appeared.

 

…

 

The audience, of course, didn’t know all this. They noticed everyone was there except Lan Tong. The comments were varied, many asking where the beauty had gone.

 

Glancing at the bullet comments on the dashboard, Tang Jizhi smiled slightly. “Him… he went home.”

 

“Today is the final broadcast.” As Tang Jizhi made his final stroke, he stretched and yawned, a faint mist of sleepiness appearing in his eyes. “I heard that idols and fans sometimes hold fan meetings…”

 

“As a popular streamer, I should meet you all offline.”

 

“…”

 

The audience thought he was just joking, but then they saw Tang Jizhi stand up, brush the dirt off his clothes, and look up at the sky.

 

After a long while, he said slowly, “This place is beautiful, but it’s a bit too boring.”

 

He then pulled out the Magical Sketchbook and, under the gaze of billions of online viewers, pulled all the magical creatures on the prairie into the drawing. When he got to the Smurf, he paused.

 

The Smurf was what was left when 002 disappeared.

 

Then, a door opened in thin air on the prairie. The experienced audience wasn’t surprised—until Tang Jizhi walked into the door with a smile.

 

Following Tang Jizhi’s perspective, it was as if they were traveling through a spatial wormhole. The screen flickered and distorted. When it lit up again, Tang Jizhi was standing on a quiet street.

 

As he looked up—

 

Holy shit!!!

What is going on!

??? Is that… is that the Yingfeng Headquarters building?!

Wait!!! I work in the coffee shop across from the Yingfeng building, I think I just saw T-Tang Jizhi…

 

The screen flickered and then went white. Four large, bold characters appeared: BROADCAST HAS ENDED.

 

The anxious viewers watched as the entire [Survival Live] section vanished from the Yingfeng app.

 

At the same time, the viewer who commented that they saw Tang Jizhi ran out of the coffee shop trembling. The person who was on the screen just a second ago was standing right across the street!

 

It wasn’t fake!

 

His legs went weak. The fan, dressed in a waiter’s uniform, shakily took a picture of Tang Jizhi with his terminal and uploaded it to the Star Net with a blunt title:

 

Tang Jizhi has really come to the Imperial Star!

 

Tang Jizhi turned around, and the waiter instantly met his cool, clear gaze. The real-life Boss Tang was even more handsome than on screen.

 

The waiter’s throat moved. His gaze instinctively fell toward Tang Jizhi’s pocket. Thinking of something, he jolted as if struck by lightning—Tang Jizhi clearly saw a few hairs on the young man’s head stand up before he bolted back into the coffee shop as if being chased by a T-Rex.

 

“…”

 

He really didn’t expect his influence to be this great.

 

He rubbed his nose gently, thinking he was being quite low-key. Footsteps sounded from behind, approaching and then stopping.

 

A moment later, a familiar voice drifted tenderly into his ears with the wind—

 

“Ji Zhi, I’ve come to take you home.”

 

End of Main Story