Thanks to over a month spent continuously assembling the anti-matter cannon, Zhong Yun’s hands had become incredibly nimble.

He swiftly uncapped bottle after bottle, pouring the ** into the box.

After the last bottle was emptied, Zhong Yun took a thin rod made of a special compound and stirred the seeds and the ** a few times, ensuring the now viscous ** mixed more evenly with the seeds.

He sealed the box again and pressed a button, settling in for a patient wait.

This box was not only capable of generating cryogenic temperatures but also functioned as a small centrifuge—a device he had fabricated from leftover parts.

The last time, Yang Siqing had bought him a large quantity of machinery instead of letting him purchase components directly.

This wasn't just for secrecy; it was largely a ploy to extract some compensation.

Because ZER was so extravagant, his money had flowed away like water, leaving him genuinely strapped for cash.

He simply couldn't afford high-end components.

That’s what gave him this idea.

I dismantled all the machines; surely you won't demand those scattered bits and pieces back, will you? Timing it perfectly, once the centrifugal process in the box was complete, Zhong Yun pressed another button.

A small nozzle extended from the side of the box, and a stream of silvery-white ** flowed out.

Zhong Yun reached out to catch it.

At some point, a faint purple glow had enveloped his hands.

The silvery-white ** seemed to roll onto this purple cloud, hovering suspended above his palm.

The entire reservoir of silvery ** in the box amounted to only about half a fistful.

Without pausing, Zhong Yun sprang up from his chair; he only had a brief thirty seconds.

He used his other hand, also tinged with purple, to grasp a small clump of the silvery **.

Lying on the floor were a white, hooded robe, a pair of white trousers, a pair of shoes, a pair of gloves, a pair of socks, and a piece of white cloth the size of a single bedsheet.

Zhong Yun spread the five fingers of his right hand.

The small clump of silvery ** resting in his palm suddenly expanded, transforming into a thin, almost transparent, circular silver film.

Just as the silver ** seemed to stretch to its limit, he delicately flicked his other hand, and the robe floated upward.

The thin film formed by the silver ** enveloped the entire robe.

Upon contact, it melted into every single fiber of the cloth.

Feeling the silver ** completely permeate the robe, Zhong Yun gave a wave, and the now slightly faded robe automatically drifted onto a metal rack nearby.

Having completed this, an unnatural blush crept across Zhong Yun’s face.

The actions he’d just taken were still too taxing for him.

Yet, he didn't stop.

Twenty-five seconds remained.

He grasped another small clump of silvery **… After processing the trousers, shoes, gloves, and socks, Zhong Yun’s complexion had begun to pale, and he felt utterly drained—a typical symptom of overdrawing his Yuan, a feeling he had grown accustomed to.

His hands never ceased their work.

It was then, however, that he encountered a significant problem: the bedsheet was too large, and the remaining silvery ** was insufficient to cover the entire sheet.

Time was short.

His gaze swept the room and landed on an exaggeratedly shaped knife hanging on the wall.

Without a second thought, he beckoned, and the blade flew toward him, instantly covered by a layer of silver film.

He placed the knife on the metal rack.

Having finished, Zhong Yun could hold on no longer; he sank onto the floor, his eyelids feeling as heavy as mountains—a common effect after completely exhausting his Yuan.

Watching the items on the metal rack slowly blur, Zhong Yun allowed a contented smile to touch his lips as he drifted into slumber.

Meanwhile, in another location, someone found sleep elusive.

In a meticulously arranged room, a girl wearing cartoon pajamas lay face down on the bed, playing with a pink cell phone in her hand.

It was well past midnight, yet the girl felt no sleepiness.

She flipped over onto her side, turning the small phone to its back, where a flat photograph featuring a landscape and a person was affixed to the smooth surface.

The background of the photo was a small lake rippling with azure waves.

A boy dressed in light purple stood beneath a tree by the water’s edge, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The wind tousled his hair slightly, and nearby, a few red leaves were caught in the air.

Gazing at the picture, the girl’s eyes grew distant.

Thinking of something, two flushes of red rose on her fair cheeks.

She covered her burning face, shamefully thinking, Yu Ruo, Yu Ruo, how could you think such embarrassing things… “Heh heh heh.” Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

The girl startled, leaping up like a frightened rabbit.

She quickly switched off the light, slipped back under the covers, and hadn't even closed her eyes when the door was pushed open.

“Xiao Ruo.” It was Xiao Fen’s voice.

Xiao Ruo pretended to be asleep and remained silent.

“Sigh.” The room’s light flickered back on.

Xiao Fen sat down on the edge of the bed and asked, “Still no word from Zhong Yun?” Xiao Ruo could maintain the pretense no longer.

She sat up clutching the duvet, looking at Xiao Fen with a slight air of guilt, like a child caught doing wrong by an adult.

Xiao Fen looked at her with resignation and said, “Missing him again?” Xiao Ruo hugged one of her arms, resting her head on her shoulder.

“Mm.” “That bastard,” Xiao Fen muttered under her breath.

Xiao Ruo couldn't help but defend him.

“Xiao Fen, don’t scold him.

He hasn't done anything excessive.” “You’re still defending him now?” Xiao Fen was furious.

“He’s vanished without a trace for over a month, not even a single call.

If he cared about you, would he act like this?” “Maybe he has something incredibly important keeping him away,” Xiao Ruo whispered, sounding as if she were trying to convince Xiao Fen as much as herself.

Xiao Fen felt utterly defeated.

“You are truly stubborn.

Why did I let myself be bewitched back then, watching him kiss you? I don’t know what spell I was under.” “That’s destiny,” Xiao Ruo murmured, a sweet smile blossoming on her lips as she recalled something.

“Just as my mother used to say, the bonds between people are wonderfully strange.

Some people are completely devoted and attentive to you; you’re grateful, but you don’t love them.

Others might do one thing, or say one sentence, and your heart is completely shaken.

Even if they treat you poorly, ignore you, you only think of and long for them.” Xiao Fen stared, dumbfounded.

“I think you’ve gone completely mad.” She then tried to persuade her earnestly, “Xiao Ruo, you are still young; you don’t understand many things.

You have no idea what love is.

Don’t be so foolish; he isn’t worth this from you.” “Perhaps,” Xiao Ruo replied, tightly gripping the cell phone Zhong Yun had given her, as if drawing strength from it.

She didn't continue; being naturally gentle, she didn't wish to argue with her best friend.

Having spent over a decade together, Xiao Fen understood her too well, and a profound sense of helplessness washed over her.

Four hours later, Zhong Yun awoke, feeling completely refreshed.

He stretched languidly and then looked toward the metal rack by the wall.

The metal rack was bare.

The clothes and shoes that had been placed there had completely "vanished."