Chapter 4: Supernatural Abilities

Early the next morning, the very first thing Mo Yu did upon waking was to turn her head and check on her precious little brother, Chi Chi.

Her immediate reaction, however, was to grimace with exasperation.

Chi Chi’s soft, pale little feet were right beside Mo Yu’s face—any closer and she could have kissed them. He was hugging his own thighs tightly, his small face pressed against them, his entire body, save for his feet, buried under the quilt.

Such a restless sleeper, she thought. Not afraid of suffocating at all.

Mo Yu carefully turned Mo Chi around so he could breathe more easily. It was only five o’clock. After grinding his teeth a few times, little Chi Chi hugged Mo Yu’s waist and fell back asleep. Mo Yu gently stroked his small face, then glanced at the caretaker who was sleeping on the sofa. Closing her eyes, she fell into thought.

Logically, after Mo Yu’s rebirth, her supernatural ability should have disappeared. But when she tested it last night, she found that her ability remained! This discovery thrilled her.

But there was one thing she couldn’t figure out.

Mo Yu lifted her left wrist. On the inside, a flamboyant flower seemed to be engraved deep into her skin, as if it had grown there.

She knew this flower—it was the Red Spider Lily, also known as the Flower of the Underworld.

Did it signify death?

Unconsciously, Mo Yu gently traced the flower that seemed carved into her very life, into her flesh and bones, with her right hand.

Suddenly, something felt off, as if something was drawing energy from her body.

“Mmm,” the caretaker rubbed her eyes and woke up.

Mo Yu quickly removed her right hand from her left wrist and pretended she had just woken up as well.

“Oh, you’re awake,” the caretaker said, surprised that this young lady was up so early. “Would you like breakfast now?”

Still distracted by what had just happened and wanting to check her body, Mo Yu heard the caretaker’s question.

She had to send this outsider away. If the caretaker discovered her ability, she’d probably be sent off to some research institute! She didn’t want to be dissected before the apocalypse even arrived.

“Well… I’d like to have… Yes, I’d like to have a steak from West Mansion Restaurant, or perhaps the preserved egg and lean pork congee from Jerry’s Hotel. Thank you.” As she spoke, she pulled a few red banknotes from her purse, stuffed them into the caretaker’s hands, and pushed the stunned woman out the door.

“Don’t come back unless you get it!” she called out, slamming the door and locking it behind her.

Heaven only knew when West Mansion or Jerry’s Hotel opened! Was this young lady planning to have lunch for breakfast? If she didn’t want breakfast, she could have just said so—after all, it was only five in the morning!

Mo Yu returned to the bed, tucked the quilt back over Chi Chi, and, after confirming with her mental power that the caretaker had left the floor, lightly pressed her right hand to the flower on her left wrist once more.

Again, a powerful suction overwhelmed her senses, and in the haze, she seemed to see the vivid Red Spider Lily glowing with crimson light.

Her left wrist ached more and more. Mo Yu dug her right fingernails into the flesh above and below the flower, and blood trickled down, falling precisely onto the center of the blossom.

Just as she felt her bones might shatter from the pain, the sensation vanished in an instant.

Her tightly closed eyes flew open.

She was no longer in the familiar white hospital room, but—

She was in a place brimming with vitality, reminiscent of the Peach Blossom Spring. The sky was azure, the sunlight gentle, the woods lush and dense, the flowers radiant and fragrant.

What startled Mo Yu most wasn’t the environment, but the palace-like structure before her, the crystal-clear sea like a meandering stream behind it, and the glittering, golden beach.

At that moment, the palace doors slowly opened on their own, drawing Mo Yu’s gaze.

Resplendent, noble, and elegant—those were the first words that sprang to her mind.

She stepped toward the palace, and as soon as she entered, a voice—aged and gentle—spoke.

“Child, what is your name?”

“…Mo Yu…” she replied, turning in place, trying to find the hidden elder.

“Haha, you needn’t search, child. This is merely my spiritual presence,” the old man’s voice rang out, cheerful.

“Why am I here?” Mo Yu asked, voicing her confusion. “And where is this place?”

“I am your ancestor—your forefather, to be precise. My name is Mo Lie. As for why you’re here and what this place is…” The old man deliberately paused. “Come, call me Ancestor.”

Three black lines slid down Mo Yu’s forehead. “Ancestor, please, just tell me.”

Mo Lie was clearly amused by her antics and feigned helplessness. “This is a spatial ability, the inherited power of our family,” he explained, his tone suddenly grave. “But not every generation inherits it. The space itself chooses its master. Unless its master dies a natural death, it will never abandon them, always following faithfully. Nine generations have passed without a new master until you. I was the last. I’m long dead now, but I left behind this spiritual imprint to guide my successor. Now my task is complete and it’s time to fade away. From now on, this space is fully yours. But remember, do not become complacent in comfort. Life must be forged by your own efforts.” His voice was gentle and kind.

“Yes, I will strive for my future,” Mo Yu vowed.

“Of course, since the space chose you as its master, it’s because you’re worthy. I believe in you.”

“Thank you…” Before Mo Yu could finish, she heard Chi Chi’s cries.

“Sister, sister, where are you?” The boy’s voice was weak and plaintive, and Mo Lie clearly heard it too.

“Go back. Your little brother is very dear. If ever you’re in danger, you can bring your closest kin into this space, but be cautious—don’t tell just anyone. Keep safe.”

“I understand.” Mo Yu’s eyes darkened with emotion, but her long lashes concealed the storm within—betrayal’s rage, the pain of parting, the marks of growing up.

When she raised her head again, her gaze was calm and resolute—a look of maturity, of success.

“How do I leave?”

“As long as you wish it. Ah… my spirit is fading. Live well, child!”

“Yes!” Mo Yu knelt and pressed her forehead to the ground three times. In the blink of an eye, she vanished.

Without a hint of reluctance.

After she disappeared, a wisp of silver light drifted on the warm sea breeze, scattering and disappearing, never to be found again.

Never again. Nowhere to be found.