The stakes in this opening are layered like an onion and I am NOT okay. Layer one: Xiaoman is dying. Bacterial lung infection, high fever, hemoptysis. She diagnoses herself correctly—without antibiotics, she has maybe half a day. That's not hypothetical danger, that's a countdown clock ticking in real time. Every cough is a reminder. Layer two: Her family is starving. They have bran—literally the scraps nobody else wants. The mother is scraping an empty pot. The brother is so malnourished he's a skeleton. Even if Xiaoman survives her illness, they will die of hunger within days. Layer three: The grandmother is actively wishing them dead. Wang Jinhua is up in the mansion cracking sunflower seeds and saying they'll probably be blown to death by the wind. Elder Tian is smirking. This isn't neglect—this is murder by omission, and they KNOW it. Layer four: Xiaoman has no way to explain her powers. When she produces the antibiotic and porridge out of thin air, her mother backs away terrified and asks if she's possessed. In an ancient rural setting, that accusation could get her killed faster than any illness. She has to fabricate a story about her father sending it in a dream, and it has to be perfect because one wrong word and her family loses their only protection. What I love is how the author layers these conflicts so they compound. The illness makes her weak, which makes it harder to convince her mother, which means she has to use more energy on deception when she needs it for survival. The grandmother's cruelty means they can't go back for help. The starvation means even if she cures herself, the family is still doomed. Every problem has another problem behind it. And she's fifteen years old in a body that can barely lift her head. The tension is suffocating in the best way.
I am not okay. I am genuinely not okay. Let me explain. You have this character—Yu Sibo—who is composed, professional, barely shows emotion. And then the topic of Execut2 comes up and he's LITERALLY glowing. "The hand-drawn version made Execut2 even cooler—grayish-blue hair, cold expression, ranking top three in any shonen manga popularity chart." This man is describing his esports idol with the same reverence most people reserve for religious experiences. And then Ji Wenze, this seemingly cold boss, produces the FULL SET. The hand-drawn version. The one Yu Sibo had been wanting. And he just... hands it to him. Like it's nothing. Like he didn't go out of his way to get it. The scene in the car is everything. Yu Sibo holding this box like it's made of glass, peeling back the packaging, and then the description of his reaction—"glowing with admiration, not setting it down for a long while." This man who barely smiles at work is practically radiating joy over a piece of merchandise. And the best part? He tries to hide it. He tries to get back to his cool persona. But you can't hide that kind of genuine happiness. "Yes!" he says when asked if he likes it that much. Just... yes. No filter. No corporate speak. Just pure, unadulterated fan energy. And Ji Wenze watches him do it. Watches him light up. And he's not mocking him. He's... pleased? There's something so tender about this moment that I didn't expect. The boss who grabs people by the collar is also the boss who notices when someone is happy. I'm sitting here emotional over fictional merchandise and I have no regrets.
I need to discuss the pacing of this chapter because the author is absolutely ruthless with their structure and I am here for it. Chapter opens with Zhao Zhen in full emotional breakdown mode—crying, grabbing his son, completely overwhelmed. Peak drama. Then Zhao Xin speaks clearly. The room erupts in celebration. Rewards are handed out like it's New Year's. For a brief moment, you think: okay, this is a feel-good recovery story. The foolish prince is cured! And then—BAM. "Why was his little face so tense, as if he were angry?" The mood shift is so sudden it's almost jarring. One second everyone's celebrating, the next Zhao Zhen is bewildered and Zhao Xin is delivering political philosophy like a six-year-old Confucius. The author uses this pivot to completely reframe everything that came before. Was Zhao Xin really foolish for two years? Or was he playing dead? The crown comment is the first crack in the facade, and from there, the pacing accelerates. Zhao Xin drops the immortal story, describes General Zhao Xuanlang (the dynasty's founding ancestor!), and essentially weaponizes state mythology to legitimize his intelligence. But the real pacing masterstroke is what happens next. Just when you think the chapter is about political maneuvering, it pivots to Zhao Xin wanting to visit the mourning hall. Consort Miao yells 'No!' Zhao Zhen also yells 'No!' And then this six-year-old uses Confucian ethics to negotiate his way into the one place he wanted to go. The entire chapter is structured like a series of escalating reveals, each one more impressive than the last, and the author never lets you catch your breath between them. By the time we get to the gourd soup shop scene, I was already reeling from the palace intrigue. This is how you maintain tension—never let the reader settle.
I need to talk about Bai Qianqian because this woman is absolutely fascinating and I have so many thoughts. On the surface, she's this ruthless bargainer who haggles over sixty wen for children's clothes. She tells the shopkeeper outright, "I'm not his biological mother... If I wasn't afraid people would say I was mistreating him, I wouldn't have even brought him here." Oof. That's not the sweet stepmother trope. That's someone who's fully aware of how the world sees her and plays along while secretly doing the right thing. And she IS doing the right thing. She buys him new clothes. She gets him cloth shoes. Then when the clan forces the Zhao family to give him cotton shoes, she makes him thank Auntie Chengshuang — not out of kindness to the aunt, but to make sure Anyao gets the shoes and to watch the Zhao family squirm. Every move is calculated. But here's what got me — the scene where she tells Anyao to stay home because the weather is turning cold. She's been letting him tag along to sell cakes, and he's clearly happy doing it. When she forbids him, "he wilted." She notices. She cares. She just doesn't have the vocabulary for softness. The relationship between them has this beautiful asymmetry. He's starting to trust her — his face flushes with excitement when he gets the shoes. She's starting to protect him — not because she's suddenly maternal, but because she's decided this boy is hers to handle, and nobody else gets to hurt him. That's not love yet, but it's the seed of it, and the author is planting it so carefully. Meanwhile, the Zhao family dynamics are just... rot. Old Madam Zhao sacrificing her daughter-in-law's handmade shoes to save face. Madam Lin seething because her son's shoes went to a cousin. Anyang crying "That motherless—" and getting silenced. This family doesn't love each other. They perform love when it's convenient and discard it when it isn't.
"Grandma helped me put them on," Berry sighed. "But she's been gone for a year now." I need a moment. I literally need to sit down. That one line. That one single sentence from a three-and-a-half-year-old character who has been nothing but comedic chaos up until that point — and suddenly everything shifts. The entire tone of the chapter pivots on this tiny admission, and I was not prepared for it. Up until then, Berry is this adorable, chaotic little witch who's just trying to survive in a weird new world. She's funny, she's confident, she's offering Feng Ci giant scissors and teaching him about potions like she's some kind of tiny life coach. But then she drops this bomb about her grandmother having been gone for a year, and suddenly you realize — this child is completely alone. She has no family. No one to help her put on her clothes. No one to check if she's wearing them right. She's been surviving on her own magic and her own wits since she was barely two. And Feng Ci? He hears this and his eyelids twitch. He makes this terrible guess about whether she hasn't changed her clothes in a year. The reader can see him connecting dots that he doesn't want to connect. This kid has been struggling. Alone. For a whole year. And now she's in HIS house, wearing her clothes backward, trying to dry a broomstick with magic that isn't strong enough. The bath scene is where it all comes together emotionally. Feng Ci is so anxious about her being in there for thirty minutes that he rushes to the door. He's worried. He's genuinely worried about this kid he barely knows. And when she opens the door and bubbles fly into his face, his first reaction is disgust — but then she pats his back and asks if he feels better. This child is taking care of HIM. And then the whole forward-and-backward explanation. Feng Ci, this extremely sophisticated and wealthy young man, having to explain to a three-year-old that forward is the direction of your face and backward is the direction of your butt. He's so patient about it. He's so gentle. And Berry, with her big blue eyes, is just trying so hard to understand this new world. The moment where she says "I'm four in nominal age" and then lectures Feng Ci on arithmetic? That's not just funny — that's a kid who's learned to assert herself because she has to. She's been on her own for a year and she's developed these little survival mechanisms. Rounding up her age. Offering deals. Being brave when she's clearly scared. I keep thinking about that line: "If only I hadn't taken a bath. Now that the great little witch smells sweeter than delicious roast chicken, the Dark Wizard will definitely not let me go." She's so dramatic about it, but underneath the comedy, there's this real fear. She's worried about being trapped. She's worried about not going home. And Feng Ci is the only person she has right now. This book knows how to hit you in the feels without even trying. One minute you're laughing at a kid who thinks a hairdryer is magic, and the next you're sitting there with a lump in your throat because this tiny witch just lost her grandma and has no one to help her dress.
The opening description of the house is deceptively simple: three rooms, a small courtyard, no proper gate. One bedroom, one kitchen, one storage room. Messy and dusty, only the bedroom halfway clean. That's it. Four sentences and I can smell the dust. I can see the iron wok and the pile of firewood beside it. The author doesn't need to describe the poverty — the absence of a gate TELLS you everything. Then there's the kitchen scene in Chapter 4. The scallion, ginger, and garlic sizzling. The cornbread cakes stuck to the inside of the iron pot. The cilantro added at the end. This is a cooking scene that functions as worldbuilding — you can feel the rusticity, the lack of modern equipment, the way the iron pot itself adds something to the soup. It's sensory writing that doesn't stop to explain itself. The bedroom with the curtain dividing the soft mattress from the hard bedding — this is such a specific, lived-in detail. The curtain isn't just decoration; it's a boundary between comfort and survival. And when Jiaojiao pulls it down and spreads it like a sheet, she's literally redrawing the family's entire dynamic in one motion. The back mountain scene where she produces the pheasant is interesting from a worldbuilding perspective too. The space ability exists but it's restrained — she stages the pheasant as if it were hunted. This tells us something about the world: in a village where meat only appears on holidays, walking down the street with a fat bird is a statement. The social hierarchy of the village is visible in who gets to carry what home. And the children's song — "Clap your little hands, clap your little hands" — a song that doesn't exist in this era yet. It's a small moment but it creates this beautiful image of Jiaojiao singing to kids who've never heard anything like it, their voices carrying through the village, reaching someone who shouldn't be listening but is.
This is great really liked reading it . Try reading one the best I recommend it for the characters and the script . Its been a while since I read something interesting
Ah, lust, that age-old sin that men (and women) can't seem to stop. Now, if you're an avid follower of me, you'll know that I would never recommend this to anyone due to the evil nature inside these pages. Ya know: devils, sacrifices, and rituals. Notwithstanding, Zexusgo seems to wish to refine their writing craft. Let's see if we can give him pointers.So the story takes place in this fantasy world that centers on betrayal, transformation, and some survival. Zexusgo employs LITRPG mechanics, so it's clear where this story is headed.Ishar (the MC) is basically sacrificed to a devil (Satanic) by his comrades, which is where his journey begins. Zexusgo does a great job pacing things; we'll give him that. I think it's due to the LITRPG aspect because his action scenes are interesting enough to understand.Do we like Ishar? Heck no. Haha. He's a little complex that struggles too much after transforming. That's good, though, because it allows readers to understand him more. I favour Kael more. That or Rudrik. So you better not slack off on them, Zexusgo.Here are the things to improve on: explaining the LITRPG system so readers aren't lost on Ishar's ability sets, a better background to understand why Ishar was betrayed, and better dialogue (since they seem forced).This is Akito, hoping those who are lost may come to Jesus Christ as their Lord and Saviour.
If you have any questions feel free to Comment here l'l be sure to answer ?
Hoping to see more chapters. keep improving and updating chapters bro.
Nice book, i just started my own novel Eternal Crowns:The Five Nations, pls check it out and tell me what you think
really love this book....its not cringe like the other books on this app ..T-T .... hope theres some romancealso love the fact that this is written in first pov....helps in understanding the character more <3