Chapter 63: The Master of Mysticism Is an Internet Celebrity, Part 2

Because the original owner had already died and she herself hadn’t received any memories, she didn’t mind revealing her own information. “That’s how it is. I need to borrow your body for a while. If you have any unfulfilled wishes, as long as they aren’t too outrageous, I can help you achieve them.”

“So those things in the novels aren’t just made up? There really are such things?” The original owner’s face was filled with curiosity. Since the person who harmed her had already been caught, and in their world the law was extremely strict—human trafficking was punishable by death, let alone a perverse murderer like that—she no longer held much resentment. Instead, she was quite curious about Muyin’s mission. “Why do you want to do this?”

“Because I want power,” Muyin replied, not mentioning anything about her own world, but instead offering another objective reason.

“Power?” The original owner didn’t quite understand.

“Only when one possesses great power can one protect oneself, protect those one wishes to protect, and possess what one desires,” Muyin explained. That was her understanding of power. Of course, if someone became lost within the pursuit of power, they would only become its slave.

“Oh.” The original owner seemed to understand, but not fully. She was, after all, still young and had never encountered such things.

“By the way, I don’t have your memories. Can you share them with me? Afterwards, you can move on to your next life. Don’t worry, your next beginning will be a good one. As for your future, although there will be some protection, how you walk your path will depend on you.”

Muyin was actually quite glad to see the original owner. After all, she hadn’t received any of her memories before, and if they met now but she still couldn’t retrieve some of them, how would she manage later? Pretend to have amnesia? But then, how could she have used the phone so smoothly before?

“Why should I give you my memories?” the original owner retorted, acting like a spoiled child and refusing to cooperate.

“Then what do you plan to do? Take them with you? When you reincarnate, you’ll leave nothing behind. As for coming back, that’s impossible. Your karmic bond with this body has been severed. Even if I leave, the body will immediately die. There’s no way for you to return.” Muyin shrugged.

“I don’t want to reincarnate. I still want to see my mom and dad,” the original owner pouted.

“They can’t see you. Besides, would you rather they know you’ve died, or not?” Muyin knew that her words came easily from her position. If she were in the same situation—knowing she was destined to die and never return—she’d probably choose to have someone take her place, on the condition that the person would treat her parents well, and, of course, that her own parents were good people.

Clearly, the original owner loved her parents. In the end, she chose to give her memories to Muyin and left for reincarnation, with only one wish: that her parents live in peace and happiness all their lives.

With part of the original owner’s memories, Muyin was no longer completely in the dark. The development of this world was roughly on par with the technological era before the apocalypse in her previous life. There were many high-tech products similar to those of her own time, such as flying cameras for live streaming, flying cars, and optical brains. No wonder she had handled the phone so deftly earlier; it was just a retro version of an optical-brain smartphone.

The original owner, Liu Lingmu, was born into a moderately wealthy family. As an only child, her parents doted on her, making her a little spoiled but not a bad person. She was only twenty-three, just graduated from college, and was interning at her family’s small company to prepare for eventually taking over her father’s business.

The accident happened because she encountered a suitor—someone who looked decent on the outside but turned out to be a pervert. Initially, the original owner was attracted to his polite demeanor and slowly developed feelings for him. After refusing his invitation several times, she finally agreed, which led to her being murdered.

When Muyin arrived, the original owner had already been imprisoned by the man for three days, locked in a basement and subjected to daily abuse and humiliation. The basement had been specially remodeled, with a reinforced iron door so well concealed that it would be hard to discover. If not for the optical brain’s stronger signal compared to a normal phone, even if she managed to kill the man, she would have had no way to call for help.

After the original owner left, Muyin finally fell asleep. When she woke, even the surgery was done—her limbs were set in plaster, her wounds treated, and she lay in a single-patient room in hospital attire.

“You’re awake. Are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere?” As Muyin was quietly using her core energy to heal her body and cultivating according to her martial arts practice, the door opened and a voice filled with surprise sounded.

She turned to see a middle-aged woman whose face was weary, her eyes still swollen from crying. “Mom,” Muyin called out, having seen the original owner’s memories. Having died and now in a dream, the original owner hadn’t just told her about her life, but had shown it to her as if playing a movie.

“You must be hungry. I brought you something to eat.” At the word ‘Mom,’ Mrs. Liu felt tears welling up again. She quickly wiped them away, sat by the bed, took out porridge and small dishes, raised the bed for her, and set up the table.

“Thank you, Mom,” Muyin said gratefully.

“There’s no need to be polite with your own mother,” Mrs. Liu chided gently. “Hurry and eat. You were starved for so long, you can only eat these for now.”

“Oh.” Muyin began to eat quietly. Without having directly received the original owner’s emotions, she wasn’t sure how to interact with the family. Mrs. Liu only thought her daughter had been traumatized by recent events and harbored no suspicions.

That evening, Mr. Liu came as well. He looked as if he’d suffered terribly these past days—his beard was unkempt and his face haggard. Muyin could only urge them to go home and rest. The next day, the police came to question her about the case.

Muyin recounted the original owner’s ordeal, but when asked why the perpetrator had suddenly collapsed, she fabricated a story: “I don’t know. He was about to kick me, I grabbed his leg, and then he suddenly convulsed and fell to the ground.”

She dared to say that because she was certain there were no surveillance cameras in that basement. If there had been, it would have been discovered easily.

Just as she expected, the police didn’t doubt her. They comforted her, “Ms. Liu, rest assured. The evidence is conclusive, and the perpetrator, Hong Bo, will soon face justice. In half a month, you can watch the legal channel for related news coverage.”

“All right. Thank you,” Muyin replied politely.

“You’re welcome. It’s our duty,” the officer said as he got up. “Focus on your recovery. It’s all over now—try to relax.”

“I will,” Muyin nodded.

Three days later, Muyin left the hospital in a wheelchair, accompanied by the Liu family. All that remained was to return home and wait for the plaster to be removed.