This one is good; it suits me.

Xie Yihuang was visibly stunned, his face alight with admiration. “Xiao Mei, you’re so adorable.”

Hu Xiaomei’s pretty face twisted in displeasure. “Adorable, my foot! White Warden, you’d better explain—why am I not human?”

White Warden materialized, his expression as calm as ever. “I told you before, all your hosts are creatures of the same name who died naturally. So, you becoming a fox is completely normal. Foxes are among the most spiritual of animals—far better than some miscellaneous beasts. Besides, you’re a Celestial Fox of the Demon Realm. Right now, the Celestial Fox is the darling of the entire Demon Realm.”

Hu Xiaomei snorted. “But it’s not pleasant to be insulted.” In truth, she was quite satisfied with her new identity—at least foxes were beautiful.

A fox spirit? Xie Yihuang understood instantly.

Jin Shanhu wore a mess of straw atop her head, with a ring of unknown plant vines crowning it. “At least you’re pretty. Look at me, wrapped in animal pelts, eating everything raw like they do. I can barely stomach it. If I die again one day, it’ll be from starvation.”

A message popped up: In the twenty-second century, Liu Xiang’er sent a gift to Jin Shanhu in the Primitive World.

Liu Xiang’er, dressed in haute couture, appeared on the screen. “This was bought by your original self yesterday at the supermarket. I’m sending it over now—don’t actually starve to death.”

Jin Shanhu opened the package and cheered, “Wow, spicy sticks and instant noodles! Xiang’er, you’re my savior!” She immediately began gnawing on the dry noodles. Even without hot water, it was better than raw meat.

Bing Ying, clad in a form-fitting garment of ice-blue, unknown material—a color clearly her own—remarked, “Can’t you help them make fire? With fire, they could cook their food.”

“Fire? How do you make it?” Jin Shanhu pondered, then had a revelation. “Friction to spark a flame? I’ll give it a try.” After all, as a graduate of the Agricultural College, she quickly devised a solution.

Yan Qingqing, dressed in elegant ancient garb, said, “You’re a researcher from the Agricultural College; making fire by friction should be easy for you. If you’re wearing furs, you could also teach them to sew clothes.”

Jin Shanhu snacked on a spicy stick as she spoke, “So I’m supposed to be the Mother of Sericulture now?”

“Give it a try—since you’re there, you might as well do something,” Liu Xiang’er replied, sipping red wine. Of the seven, she was obviously the most at ease.

Xie Yihuang sighed. “At least you’re all adults, right?” This had clearly become her obsession. She shot White Warden a glare. “White Warden, what kind of host did you pick for me? An eight-year-old child? You want me to start over from elementary school? Why not from the womb!”

White Warden coughed. “You can’t really blame me. The host bodies not only need to match your aura, they also require a medium—names are best. So, the bodies you have now are the most suitable. If you look at it differently, it’s just another version of you in another space-time.”

Fearing further trouble, White Warden hurried to add, “I’ve already distributed your compensation, which you’ve received. Each of you has a time-stopped space and a unique talent. Unless there’s something urgent, I won’t appear for decades. Just be careful with what you trade or gift—don’t give things away recklessly. Otherwise, it’s none of my concern. Now that everyone’s here, I’ll take my leave.”

With that, White Warden hastily departed. He dared not linger, worried he’d become their next target. Old Hei often warned him: women are the trickiest.

Xie Yihuang raised her brows in confusion. “Did I say something wrong? Why did he leave so abruptly?”

“He’s afraid you’ll blackmail him again,” Bing Ying replied, and everyone broke into laughter.

The generous compensation they’d received was, in fact, the result of Xie Yihuang’s negotiations with White Warden.

Xie Yihuang recalled those negotiations. She didn’t think herself particularly skilled—she’d merely imitated a friend from a past life who specialized in banking and trade loans. Thankfully, the outcome was good; everyone was satisfied.

She thought of her granted talent: photographic memory. She glanced at a newspaper pasted nearby, and after just one look, the contents were imprinted in her mind.

Her eyes lit up. “This is perfect for me.”

Though they say success is one percent talent and ninety-nine percent effort, Xie Yihuang understood deeply that the one percent is often the key to one’s future. With photographic memory, she now possessed an extra advantage right from the starting line.

Taking stock of her assets—photographic memory, immense strength, a healthy body and mind—she felt ready to tackle this new world.

The Underworld.

White Warden had finally dealt with the matters of the seven women, created a special group, and added them to it. After confirming their successful crossings, he quickly retreated. Despite their differing personalities, each was talented and blessed by fate. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have compensated them so generously. Whether they could forge a bright path ahead would be up to them.

Relieved, he rejoiced that the trouble caused by the intern this time was finally over. He hummed a popular Underworld tune without realizing it.

“Long time no see, Little White,” a voice suddenly rang out, and a man in black appeared before him.

White Warden was startled, then immediately bowed. “Greetings, Immortal Lord Shangchen.”

The visitor was Immortal Lord Shangchen, a renowned figure in the Celestial Realm—not for any great deeds, but for having cultivated ninety-nine times, ascending from mortal to supreme immortal, then abolishing his cultivation to reincarnate, only to repeat the process ninety-nine times. Such a path was unique to him alone.

When asked why he did this, he’d only reply, “Immortal life is boring.”

Though his demeanor was gentle, his eccentric approach to alleviating boredom made him someone no one dared to offend. He was widely regarded as the Celestial Realm’s mad immortal. There was even a saying: “Better to offend the Immortal Emperor a hundred times than cross the Mad Lord once.”

Among his peers, he was undoubtedly the foremost Immortal Lord.