Villain Strategy Rules [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 58

Two days later, the rain stopped. The morning mist lingered in the mountains, and with each shallow breath, it felt like raindrops bursting at the tip of her nose. The heavy downpour had unexpectedly caused some wildflowers to bloom—nameless, peeking out from patches of grass.

The hotel owner informed them that the muddy stone path was temporarily impassable, but workers had already been sent to pave it. With luck, they could leave tomorrow; otherwise, they’d have to wait another two days.

Of course, the owner hoped they’d stay longer. Young visitors like them were rare, and their presence breathed life into the quiet surroundings. Wen Zhixu wanted to stay too—she had a feeling there was some secret hidden here.

The sunlight had dispersed the mist. Wen Zhixu pulled open the curtains, inhaled the fresh air, and said, “Let’s go outside. Maybe grab something to drink?”

Originally, Qin Nanxi had planned study sessions for them today—after all, they’d promised their teacher they wouldn’t let their grades slip in the upcoming monthly exams. Wen Zhixu and Tang Mo had performed decently in the midterms, much better than before, so Teacher Zhang trusted Qin Nanxi’s guidance.

It was puzzling, though—Wen Zhixu seemed academically capable, yet her scores in physics and chemistry were abysmal, barely hitting single digits. The only subjects she excelled in were math and English. When asked why, Wen Zhixu could only sigh helplessly—how could she explain that she was actually quite studious… but she was a humanities student!!!

Qin Nanxi: “Sure, but you have to finish today’s assignments. Do you realize the monthly exam is coming?”

“Ah!” Tang Mo sat up abruptly. “Fine.”

The three of them went to a café, ordering milk tea and bread. The shop kept a few kittens, all remarkably unafraid of strangers, even playfully clinging to Wen Zhixu and the others.

Wen Zhixu scratched one under the chin and said, “This one reminds me of Guigui—just as clingy.”

Since being discharged from the hospital, Guigui had been in much better spirits. It loved to curl up on the bay window, watching the scenery outside, and often sought affection from Wen Zhixu.

At the mention of Guigui, Qin Nanxi’s expression softened. “Guigui really likes you—that’s why it’s so affectionate. It usually hides from everyone else.”

Cats had their own instincts. Before, Guigui would dart away at the sight of Qin Nanxi’s mother and others, only to be restrained by a leash, which had caused an infection. To treat it properly, the vet had shaved its fur. Whether it was due to feeling cold or finally sensing love, Guigui now preferred staying close to its owners.

“Guess Guigui takes after its owner,” Wen Zhixu said with a laugh, still stroking the kitten’s chin.

Their coffee and bread arrived. Qin Nanxi took Wen Zhixu to wash her hands, lathering them with soap. “Even if it’s Guigui, you should wash your hands before eating—these kittens live outdoors.”

“Nanxi,” Wen Zhixu suddenly flicked water onto Qin Nanxi’s face. “You’re starting to sound more and more like my mom.”

Qin Nanxi didn’t react angrily, simply wiping the droplets away. “Be good.”

Those words stirred something inexplicable in Wen Zhixu. She lowered her head suddenly, blinking as she asked, “Like that night?”

Qin Nanxi never spoke of that night, making Wen Zhixu wonder if she was being somewhat of a heartbreaker. Wait no—if that were the case, then Qin Nanxi was one too. They were both heartbreakers.

Even though they were together now, they couldn’t keep denying that night forever. At the very least, she needed to know—that night had been real, not a dream.

“Qingyue.” Qin Nanxi raised a finger to Wen Zhixu’s lips. “We’re not grown yet… That night… shouldn’t be brought up again.”

“Then will you admit it? Or was it just a dream?” Wen Zhixu kissed the fingertip lightly and whispered.

Qin Nanxi: “It wasn’t a dream.”

Wen Zhixu arched a brow. “Good.”

“Nanxi…” Wen Zhixu suddenly said, “If I ever lie to you later, or if I have secrets—ones that might be hard to believe—what would you do?”

Qin Nanxi thought Wen Zhixu was referring to her life, her family. After all, she had always been unpredictable before. But time was running short—they shouldn’t let any more misunderstandings come between them.

“Nothing,” Qin Nanxi replied, studying Wen Zhixu’s face carefully. She wanted to memorize her in this world once more. In her features, she saw countless memories. “If you ever want to leave, just tell me directly.”

“That’s not it.” Wen Zhixu realized the misunderstanding and explained, “I won’t leave. I’m just saying if.”

“Don’t.” Qin Nanxi pressed her finger back against Wen Zhixu’s lips. “Not even if.”

Wen Zhixu’s eyes curved into crescents. She didn’t speak, only nodded.

Tang Mo, seeing the two whispering by the sink for so long, couldn’t resist the aroma of freshly baked bread any longer. She hadn’t eaten breakfast yet and was starving. “Are you two washing your hands or what? Hurry up and eat!”

Wen Zhixu and Qin Nanxi exchanged a smile before joining Tang Mo.

After eating some bread and regaining a bit of energy, Wen Zhixu leaned back in her chair, swaying slightly as she listened to the sounds unique to the mountains.

Then, suddenly, her head spun violently. Her entire body felt bound by ropes—no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t break free.

She tried to open her eyes, but everything was pitch black. Muffled sounds escaped her lips, but no words formed. She wanted to call for Qin Nanxi, for Tang Mo—she had no idea where she was.

Host, the main system has issued a command. Due to low task completion and risk of exposure, a mandatory punishment is now being enforced.

Wen Zhixu whimpered, but she couldn’t move a muscle. An immense force pressed down on her, sharp as a blade slicing through her skin. Bl00d trickled freely, the drip-drip sound making it hard to breathe. The air thinned, the suffocation growing unbearable.

Then, electricity surged through her body. Like a bird soaring through the sky only to have its wings snapped off mid-flight—bl00d gushed, wings vanished, no longer able to keep her aloft. And so she fell, the wind like knives against her wounds, the pain so intense she lost consciousness.

It hurts…

It hurts so much…

Why does it have to be this agonizing?

Just as Wen Zhixu felt herself slipping away, the system spoke again.

Punishment has been doubled and transferred. System acknowledges error.

The suffocating sensation suddenly vanished, and the pain gradually dissipated. With a gasp, Wen Zhixu sat up. The surroundings had returned to normal, and Tang Mo was looking at her with concern, asking, “What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare? I heard you whimpering earlier, and when I came closer, your face was covered in sweat.”

Wen Zhixu took deep breaths, treasuring each one after the brief suffocation. After a long pause, she said, “I’m fine. Just a nightmare.”

She didn’t understand why the punishment had come so abruptly. Had she done something wrong? And what did the system mean by “punishment transfer”?

This mountain clearly held enormous secrets. Lingering at its base, she felt an inner pull urging her toward the slopes.

“006, why did that just happen?”

Host, the main system detected low task completion progress. Additionally, you were considering exposing yourself—something I warned you against. Never do that.

So… even if Wen Zhixu’s guess was correct—that there were multiple systems, and she was just the only mission-taker in her current location, but many others existed in this world—they couldn’t reveal their identities, or face irreversible consequences.

Noticing Wen Zhixu zoning out again, Tang Mo nudged her. “What’s up with you today? Both of you seem off.”

“Nothing.” Wen Zhixu rubbed her forehead, then suddenly frowned. “Both of us?”

“Yeah.” Tang Mo pointed toward Qin Nanxi’s direction. “You took a sip of coffee, said you felt dizzy, and passed out. Qin Nanxi ate a piece of bread, claimed she had a ‘carb coma,’ and fell asleep too… Is this place drugging people or what?”

Wen Zhixu: “…”

“Relax. Even if you were poisonous, this café wouldn’t spike anything.”

She knew Tang Mo was only in her teens, but the girl was excessively naive.

Tang Mo added, “It’s weird though. You looked like you were in pain while asleep. Qin Nanxi, on the other hand, just slept peacefully, no expressions at all.”

Wen Zhixu massaged her temples. “She said she had a carb coma. Passing out from that is normal.”

Tang Mo stood up. “Whatever. I’m going back to chat with my senior.”

Once Tang Mo left, Wen Zhixu glanced at Qin Nanxi, who was sleeping soundly, her face as expressionless as during her usual naps. Wen Zhixu no longer suspected her—the people around her likely all belonged to this world.

Nanxi’s maturity probably stemmed from years of living alone, forced to grow up fast by her family circumstances.

Her head still felt foggy. Many questions remained unanswered, but she didn’t know where to start. What secrets did this mountain hold? Why did it appear in her dreams, drawing her here when nothing seemed unusual?

Except for that “69.”

Wait—the auntie must know something. Why couldn’t she just ask her directly?

Host, a sincere reminder: just complete your assigned tasks, collect your reward, and leave. Treating this like a puzzle game won’t benefit you.

“…”

Wen Zhixu: “Can you read my thoughts?”

No, but I can sense your intentions.

…

She couldn’t discern the difference.

Wen Zhixu: “I didn’t expose anything. Why did that happen?”

“I don’t currently know the main system’s requirements, and I also want to protect our system. But we terminal systems are ultimately controlled by the main system. If we disobey, we’ll be immediately decommissioned. Host, let’s not ask too many questions. The main system has been angry lately—for the sake of simpler missions later, please just endure it for now.”

Wen Zhixu was learning about the main system’s existence for the first time. But these abnormalities had come suddenly—when it came down to it, wasn’t she the victim being kept in the dark?

While she was still pondering this, the system suddenly spoke up.

“System alert: Time will soon freeze. The next world is about to begin. Please prepare yourself, Host.”

“What?”

Wen Zhixu jolted in surprise. She quickly stood up and asked, “But we still have six months left?”