The Old Dog couldn't help but chuckle. "Grasping at too many straws will leave you with none, and besides, does anyone under the Silver Talisman dare to bully you?" Ziye stuck her tongue out sheepishly.

The Old Dog couldn't help but look at An Junlie a second time.

Could it be him? Ziye quickly waved her hands. "Just kidding." The three of them ate heartily.

The Old Dog loved meat, while An Junlie preferred fish.

Ziye, however, found the fish too gamey and the meat too greasy, so she ate very little.

An Junlie resolved then and there to often prepare rich meat and fish dishes for Ziye—the philosophy being, what you eat nourishes you: meat builds muscle, and fish enhances agility.

After the meal, the Old Dog took out the tiger gall bladder and presented it to An Junlie.

The gall was a deep purple, having been kept perfectly fresh in a temperature-controlled container.

An Junlie took it without hesitation and placed it directly into his mouth— Ziye’s eyes widened.

The Old Dog, too, couldn't help but look astonished.

An Junlie actually bit down and crushed the gall bladder without batting an eye! Ziye clicked her tongue. "Don't you find the taste horrifying?" An Junlie smacked his lips. "It's alright.

I’ve eaten things with far stranger tastes." "You win!" The Old Dog clapped An Junlie on the shoulder again, the force of the blow causing An Junlie to stumble, nearly spitting the gall out.

The Old Dog said with profound admiration, "You are the first person I've ever seen eat tiger gall without changing expression.

You’re even tougher than Red Hair from the Stone-Snow Mountains by three degrees." An Junlie remained silent.

The first time the Old Dog clapped him, he hadn't paid attention to the force behind the palm strike, but the second time, he sensed something—indeed, this was no ordinary person.

His teacher had once warned him never to underestimate anyone, as they could very well be the overlord of some planet.

That wisdom proved true.

The universe was infinite, yet a massive planetary explosion a century ago had caused wormholes to collapse, greatly shrinking the habitable space for humanity, which now mainly clustered in the Four Great Star Regions.

Across the thousands of planets in these regions, becoming a planetary overlord was difficult, but not impossible...

S-Class prisoners; they must all be above the level of planetary overlords.

After repairing the robots and mechs, just as they were preparing to leave, Ziye pulled a box from the belly of 110.

The box was filled with various medicines, which she handed to the Old Dog. "Take these.

They are the most potent drugs from that total weirdo; I managed to swipe them." The Old Dog readily accepted them, but in turn, offered Ziye a basket of fruit.

On the way back, Ziye happily munched on the fruit, looking utterly content.

Among the residents of the Silver Talisman, she liked the Old Dog the best; he was like an elder to her, and spending time with him felt the most effortless.

Finishing a piece of fruit, Ziye tossed the core, clapped her hands, and said, "Oh, right.

The Old Dog called you Dog Brother; don't be offended." An Junlie raised an eyebrow. "You think I’d be offended?" Ziye shrugged. "Who knows? The Old Dog believes dogs are the best creatures in the universe, so calling you Dog Brother is a compliment." An Junlie twitched the corner of his mouth. "Fine, I'll remember that." He paused, then asked, "Do you know his background?" Ziye instantly sat bolt upright, frowning. "A hero is defined by their deeds, not their origins! You should have known that when I gave you your name." An Junlie hadn't expected such a vehement reaction, so he dropped the subject.

Ziye thought for a moment, then added, "You’re an alien, and I’ve helped you so much, you owe me in servitude." No matter what, An Junlie was considered a member of her household now.

As it turned out, treating An Junlie as family was the very source of her suffering.

At five in the morning, An Junlie woke up naturally and knocked sharply on Ziye’s door. "Hey, brat, we can't waste this beautiful morning.

Get up!" Ziye, half-asleep, rolled over, pulled the quilt over her head, and continued sleeping. "Brat, that total weirdo sent over a sample via 438 last night; he needs your reply ASAP; brat, you said last night that the T233 mech's laser sword program was faulty and needs recalibrating today; brat..." Ziye couldn't bear it any longer.

With her hair a mess, she angrily threw open the door and roared in exasperation, "Are you an alien or are you 120? Don't tell me that yesterday Bean Sprout implanted 120’s program into your system!" Every morning at noon, 120 would report the day's tasks, but only after she was awake and had eaten breakfast.

What was An Junlie doing? An Junlie beamed a brilliant smile. "Brat, let’s go for a run?" Ziye slammed the door in fury. "Scram!" Not hearing the expected thud of the door closing, she turned back to see An Junlie bracing the door with his foot.

He said nothing, simply reaching out, grabbing her, and dragging her toward the door. "No more sleeping.

Time to warm up." Ziye glared at him, thoroughly annoyed, seriously wanting to kick him twice and give him a shoulder throw—damn it, this was too much! "Let's go, let's go." An Junlie seemed oblivious to her murderous gaze, pulling her arm as he walked out, forcing her to swallow her anger.

Under his watchful eye, Ziye sleepily completed her warm-up exercises, dragged along as he pulled her around the perimeter of the house.

Towering purple trees lined the exterior, casting cool shadows.

The morning air was damp and refreshingly pleasant.

A gust of wind blew, and Ziye finally sobered up.

She never thought her house was large before, but running laps now made her realize that it couldn't be measured by human legs.

Usually, they used magnetic levitation vehicles to move around the workshop; running was torture.

An Junlie tugged her along, not allowing her to stop, saying, "You need at least three laps for it to be effective." Hearing this, Ziye's legs went weak, and she flopped onto the ground.

An Junlie shook his head and ran on alone.

Ziye lay sprawled on the ground, wide awake now, feeling that An Junlie’s behavior was truly detestable.

It was one thing for him to run, but why did she have to run too? An Junlie finished his second lap and returned to her side.

Hearing her question, he merely smiled. "If you can keep up with me, I'll tell you why." Ziye had rested enough and started running again.

The title "alien" was not given lightly.

His legs were long.

At the same pace, his stride was 1.4 times hers.

In less than a minute, he was far behind her.

She stubbornly sped up, but he ran easily, as if aware of her presence behind him, always maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far.

In this chase, An Junlie easily managed an extra lap.

When he returned to the living room door, Ziye belatedly realized she had been tricked! Seeing An Junlie standing less than a meter in front of her, she tried to retaliate by kicking backward toward his lower legs, but he happened to lift his foot and step forward, smoothly avoiding her strike. "Come on, brat, I'll teach you boxing." Ziye was nearing a breaking point. "I won't learn!" An Junlie was persistent. "How about two hundred push-ups?" Ziye sighed silently. "Just teach me boxing then." So, she miserably accompanied him for an hour of practicing martial arts.

As soon as they finished boxing, before she could even rest, An Junlie began preparing the next activity.

Ziye lay flat on the ground, absolutely refusing to move.

Just then, 120 scampered out, looking anxious. "Master, Red Hair has sent three Silver-Messages, and she said if you don't answer right away, she'll come over and blow up all your robots." Ziye was overjoyed—finally, an excuse to ditch An Junlie!