After the two finished their conversation, a voice sounded.
“Gentlemen, I’m right here.”
The sliding door, seamlessly integrated with the wall and almost invisible, silently opened to the side.
Ling Shan’er stood there, as if she had been waiting all along.
She had changed out of the subtly suggestive nurse uniform.
In its place was a silver-gray uniform skirt suit, sharply tailored with blade-like lines and a faint metallic sheen, exuding an understated sense of technological sophistication in the soft room lighting.
The outfit perfectly outlined her flowing shoulders and slender waist, radiating a sense of calm and efficiency.
A pair of narrow silver-rimmed glasses perched on her straight nose; her eyes behind the lenses were clear yet unfathomable.
Her previously soft hair was now pulled into a meticulous bun at the back of her head, with barely a strand out of place.
Gone was the ambiguous allure—now she emanated an almost icy professionalism.
Clearly, while they had been undertaking their first mission, this guide had not been idle either.
Her gaze rested steadily on them, rational and focused, sweeping over like a scanner, yet pausing at no anomaly.
She showed no surprise at Shi Hanfeng’s almost unrecognizable change in demeanor—not even a hint of curiosity.
Only a programmatic, perfectly curved gentle smile floated at the corner of her lips, as if the astonishing transformation before her was the most trivial part of her daily routine.
Shi Hanfeng didn’t mind.
The reaction further confirmed his suspicions: changes in appearance or even species caused by Player Talent might not be rare in the internal system, possibly even commonplace.
Though, it could also just be her natural expression.
He understood well—from the moment he learned her name and heard those iconic, as-if-engraved-in-DNA words, he had roughly guessed her nature.
A construct akin to Miss Catherine from Genshin Impact—either a direct exchange unit or a locally produced imitation using similar technology.
The occasional non-human aura and interaction logic were only natural.
Speaking of which…
A feeling of nostalgia flickered in his heart.
After all, he had played that game for so long in his previous life.
Day after day, “toward the stars and the abyss,” Miss Catherine had become an old acquaintance.
He wondered which lucky senior had explored that world?
It might be nice to exchange stories—or just to see those familiar sights again.
The thought sprouted quietly, then was swiftly suppressed, buried at the end of his growing to-do list.
“Congratulations to both of you for completing your first mission and returning safely.”
Ling Shan’er’s voice was still crisp and pleasant, like a finely tuned instrument.
The sense of professional distance remained undiminished by their return.
“Miss Ling Shan’er, long time no see!”
Xu Chaoyun immediately released his arm from Shi Hanfeng’s neck, a radiant smile spreading across his face as he enthusiastically waved.
Ling Shan’er curved her lips in a perfectly arched smile.
“Hello, Mr. Xu. In fact, according to my time perception baseline, we were only separated for a standard three hours and seventeen minutes.”
You will need to adapt to the difference in time flow perception caused by cross-world missions.
Based on existing records, the subjective and objective time spent on official world missions often diverges even more after the novice guide task.
This sense of time difference will become more pronounced.
It’s recommended to engage in psychological preparation and physical adjustment in advance.”
“Alright, I’ll try to adapt.”
Xu Chaoyun scratched his messy hair, muttering softly, his eyes showing confusion and helplessness at how time could be manipulated in such a way.
Shi Hanfeng merely nodded, letting his gaze linger a moment longer on Ling Shan’er’s flawless face.
“Miss Ling Shan’er, were you standing outside the door just now?”
He spoke casually, as if asking about the weather, but knew she would understand his deeper meaning.
“Yes,” Ling Shan’er answered directly, without evasion, concealment, or the awkwardness humans might display—only a pure statement of fact.
“My sensors confirmed both of you had completed transmission and stabilized.”
According to clause seventeen of the basic service protocol, I determined that reunited Challengers—at least from your subjective perception—required an undisturbed private space to complete initial information exchange and emotional adjustment.
This helps maintain the psychological stability coefficient of Challengers and reduces the probability of post-mission stress reactions.
“Please rest assured, my confidentiality level is the highest and will not record or leak any part of this conversation in any form.”
Her explanation was logical, referencing regulations, as perfect as an auto-generated report.
Shi Hanfeng smiled indifferently.
A secret’s security lay in how few people knew it.
What he shared with Xu Chaoyun earlier had already been carefully filtered, omitting any sensational details.
He hadn’t mentioned the Goblin God, Green Moon, Heavenfire Unleashed, or Sword Saint’s Altered Fate—those were true secrets tied to his abnormal Player Talent.
Anything else leaking was inconsequential.
As for Xu Chaoyun’s experiences of hunting wild wolves, chewing black bread, or failing to find a witch, he held no disdain for his friend—such information could spread across Qiming Star without causing a ripple.
Ling Shan’er did not pursue the topic further, seemingly judging her explanation sufficient.
She raised a hand and lightly tapped her temple.
“You may now try to focus your thoughts and silently command ‘Connect’ or a similar directive to establish communication with Destiny Space. A personal exchange list will be projected directly into your consciousness.”
The items and abilities displayed—” She slowed her speech to ensure key points were received, “—are primarily sourced from, and strictly limited to, your own firsthand experience in the first mission world.”
Shi Hanfeng immediately followed her instructions.
He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and focused on the vague interface deep within.
In an instant, an invisible stream of light seemed to pour into his mind.
A concise yet information-rich, semi-transparent list materialized out of nowhere, overlaying his visual neural signals like a high-tech AR interface.
Sure enough, the listed items all originated from the Goblin Slayer world.
[Summoning: Dragonfang Soldier (Skill Scroll)]: Consumable scroll. Grants the skill ‘Summoning: Dragonfang Soldier’ upon use. Summons a low-intelligence Dragonfang Soldier to fight for you. Duration limited. Usable three times per day.
Requires 500 Destiny Points.
(Note: Summoned unit strength is directly proportional to materials used.)
[Sword of Scales (Weapon)]: Representative weapon of the High Priest of the City of Water. Sword blade engraved with intricate scales of justice, imbued with faint divine blessing.
Once per day, can unleash the area skill ‘Heaven Strike.’
Requires 15,000 Destiny Points.
(Warning: Non-believers may suffer energy backlash.)
[Sacred Barrier (Skill Scroll)]: Erects a holy barrier with extra resistance against evil attacks. Usable three times daily.
Requires 1,000 Destiny Points.
(Unusable by non-Earth Mother Goddess believers.)
[Minor Healing (Skill Scroll)]: Stimulates weak life force to accelerate the healing of minor wounds. Usable three times daily.
Requires 500 Destiny Points.
(Same as above.)
There were many items—even things like [Goblin Shaman’s Bone Staff]and [Ximu Town Resident’s Letter of Thanks], whose uses were unclear.
He even glimpsed an entry for [Saintess’s Blue Ribbon], and the price wasn’t cheap.
His mouth twitched slightly.
Did Destiny Space even collect this sort of thing?
He efficiently browsed and filtered through the information, his mind processing at high speed, evaluating each item’s cost-performance ratio, usefulness, and compatibility with his own growth path.
At the same time, he caught a crucial detail.
The Rakshasa Template, which he obtained directly via Player Talent, as well as the abilities it brought—Wish of the White Flower, Cycle of Vitality, Wish of Burial—did not appear in the Destiny Space exchange list.
Those abilities, derived from his own talent and template, were unique to him as a “Player,” not products of the Goblin Slayer world.
To see them appear, he would likely have to experience a world with a similar power system—like the world of Star Rail.
The thought stirred him.
“Whoa! Cool! What are all these?!”
Beside him, Xu Chaoyun’s voice rang out again, full of the wonder of discovering a new world.
He had evidently connected to the mysterious list as well, his eyes wide as he shouted at the invisible screen in the air.
“‘Wolfskin Coat of Endurance’? I think I saw the old hunters in the village wear this! Defense +1, cold resistance +5? These stats are actually solid…”
“‘Hunter’s Trapmaking Insights (Beginner)’? Uh, seems useful, but not that useful—I almost learned it myself…”
“‘Witch’s Obscure Potion (Unidentified)’?! Wait! There was really a witch in that damn place?! Where was she hiding? I wandered for days and never even saw a hair! What a loss! Feels like I missed out on a fortune!”
Ling Shan’er seemed unfazed by the diverse reactions of Challengers upon viewing the exchange list.
Her expression didn’t change in the slightest; even the curve of her smile remained fixed.
She continued her explanation in her steady, ripple-free voice, like the most patient, tireless intelligent navigation system.
“As you both see, the exchange list provided by Destiny Space, though seemingly varied, has clear root limitations.
It is strictly confined to items produced within worlds you have personally experienced.
To offset this innate restriction and facilitate resource circulation and exchange among Challengers from different worlds, Qiming Star equips each official Challenger with a personal terminal.
The terminal includes an integrated transaction platform module.”
She turned smoothly, producing two objects from nowhere.
They resembled smartphones but bore a completely different design language.
The streamlined, integrated exterior shimmered with a gentle, living glow along the edges, neither metal nor jade in texture—presumably exquisite to the touch.
The perfect fusion of technological and indescribable, timeless craftsmanship lay quietly in her fair palm.
She handed one to each of Shi Hanfeng and Xu Chaoyun.
“These are your personal terminals.
Basic access and trading privileges have already been activated for you.”
Shi Hanfeng extended his hand, accepting his own terminal.
It felt cool, but not the dead cold of metal—rather, a strange, delicate warmth, like holding a piece of living black jade.
The weight was moderate, the grip excellent.
“Transaction platform?”