Chapter 4: The Most Beautiful Poison—Rouge Intoxication

Yun Qimu was quite satisfied. She lifted her beautiful eyes and glanced at Fei Jie with a smile. “This gentleman just invited me to travel together, but I’m tired and don’t want to walk anymore. I’m really sorry.”

“N-no problem at all.”

Fei Jie straightened his sweat-soaked back, forced a smile, and said, “Since Miss Yun doesn’t want to go, we’ll head out first. I hope I’m lucky enough to see the beautiful Miss Yun again in the future.”

Not forgetting his gentlemanly manners, he turned and left with Ma Kang, who had been itching to go.

The others glanced at Yun Qimu with a hint of fear, hesitated only briefly, and then dispersed as well.

Yun Qimu watched Fei Jie’s departing figure, the corners of her lips curling up with a meaningful smile.

The sound of the spaceship self-destructing boomed not far away, lighting up the air with dazzling fireworks. Even the gray, gloomy sky seemed much brighter.

Retracting her gaze, Yun Qimu turned around—only to meet Yun Xiaoyu’s sparkling eyes.

“When did you learn to use a dagger?” The little one asked excitedly.

Yun Qimu raised an eyebrow, stroked her chin as if in thought, and mused, “Probably in a dream.”

Yun Xiaoyu’s face fell, lips pouting, clearly unhappy.

“Hmph, you’re just teasing me. Dad says you’re a genius, but you’ve always been sickly and half-asleep. How could you possibly learn to use a dagger in your dreams?”

In Yun Xiaoyu’s mind, his second sister was just a pretty but clueless blockhead who did nothing but sleep and stare into space.

“I’m not lying. I really did learn it in a dream.”

Yun Qimu’s lips curved up. After confirming that Yun Dad, Yun Little Brother, and this world she’d once dreamed of were all real, she’d decided this was reality—and her previous, now-dead world was just a dream.

Either way, it didn’t matter. Retirement and a peaceful life awaited her wherever she went.

She’d always been a laid-back slacker, but a capable one. Even on this notorious exile planet, she wasn’t afraid.

Just look at that junkyard in the distance—she could instantly spot useful or modifiable items, and in three seconds flat, she could come up with several perfect plans for a happy life here.

A world with no missions, no sweet-talking subordinates pestering her for help, nothing to disturb her retirement—what could be better?

However—

[Ding—Host confirmed to have arrived on Earth. Game system activating. Welcome, Host, to Earth. Please participate in the construction of Earth Village.]

The smile froze on Yun Qimu’s lips. What the hell?

But her confusion lasted only a moment. She quickly and rationally extracted the key points from the mechanical voice that had suddenly appeared in her mind.

“Earth Village construction? Don’t tell me that Earth Revival game I played has followed me here?”

[Correct. I am the game’s main AI, Tiandao. From now on, I will assist the Host in transforming the exile planet, reviving ancient culture, and rebuilding a beautiful Earth. As the chosen one, you should feel honored by your good fortune.]

Yun Qimu: Not honored at all, thanks!

The truth was, Yun Qimu came from 150 years in the future.

By then, the empire that had once split into eight royal factions had been unified again, ushering in a revival of ancient culture.

The game ""Earth Revival,"" steeped in traditional culture, had become a national pastime for all ages.

After her body collapsed and she retired to await death, Yun Qimu spent all her time playing this game.

She chose the farming and retirement mode—planting vegetables, fishing, following ancient recipes to cook retro dishes, and basking in the sun on a rocking chair every afternoon. Life couldn’t have been better.

But that didn’t mean she thought the game was good.

She’d spent plenty of time browsing the forums, where players constantly howled and cursed the main AI, calling the game trash, venting their frustrations in endless posts filled with creative insults.

Later, when the AI cracked down with bans and filters, players, driven mad by the game’s difficulty, found new, roundabout ways to curse it—without using any actual profanity.

In short, the AI that dynamically increased the game’s difficulty and plotted its storylines was no good.

It was notorious for tormenting players to tears, bankrupting them, and, in the worst cases, forcing them to sell themselves to brothels in-game.

So, being “chosen” was nothing to be proud of. Yun Qimu refused without hesitation.

“No, no, no. I’m just a retired old lady. I really don’t want this ‘honor’ of starting the game.”

The mechanical voice in her mind stuttered for a moment, then coldly declared: [Since the Host refuses to start the game, I will reclaim the energy stored in your body. Please prepare for death. Initiating death countdown: 10, 9—]

“Wait, wait!” Yun Qimu’s scalp tingled. She hurriedly interrupted, “Why is this game so overbearing? You’ll just erase me if I don’t play?”

[Not at all. Your body was poisoned with Rouge Intoxication. You should have died twenty minutes and thirty-eight seconds ago. It was only my energy that suppressed the toxin and kept you alive. If you start the game, you can earn spirit coins to exchange for antidote and restore your health. With the game’s help, your body will never collapse again due to excessive mental power, as it did before.]

Yun Qimu’s eyes darkened.

Rouge Intoxication—the so-called “most beautiful poison” in the interstellar world, ranked number one among synthetic human poisons.

Victims died painlessly, their appearance elevated to the peak of beauty, their corpses remaining uncorrupted for centuries.

This poison was originally created by a lovesick emperor of the Norman Empire for his beloved but unfaithful empress, to preserve her youthful beauty and keep her by his side forever.

Later, Rouge Intoxication became a weapon for twisted lovers who couldn’t get what they wanted.

Yun Qimu frowned. Who hated her this much?

Regardless, the AI had indeed found her weakness—her greatest wish in life was to have a healthy body.

But whether in her past life or now, her body never cooperated.

She’d already felt the frailty of this body when she killed that sneak attacker earlier.

Narrowing her eyes, she moistened her dry lips. “Let me ask one more question. If you answer, I’ll agree to start the game. After all, you wouldn’t want to lose your only suitable host, would you?”

She deliberately emphasized “only.” The mechanical voice stalled for nearly thirty seconds before finally spitting out two words: [Ask away.]

Even through its icy tone, she could sense its frustration."