Chapter 31

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Chapter 31: Bad Memories

“Is your allowance enough this month? I’ll transfer another fifty thousand to you… I read your medical report. My sweet girl did great… Okay, okay, I’ll stop talking… We haven’t had a proper conversation at home lately. You always look so unhappy—has someone been bothering you…?”

The “beep-beep” tone indicated the other party had hung up.

The woman placed her phone on the table, staring blankly at the contact labeled “Daughter,” hesitating whether to call again.

In the end, she didn’t. Calling back would only annoy her.

She switched to WeChat and sent a ¥50,000 transfer, typing:

“The seasons are changing—buy more clothes. Mom’s been busy lately and hasn’t had time to be with you.”

Two minutes later came the reply:

“Mmm, my friend just called. I have enough money.”

The money was returned.

The woman stared at the line of text, unmoving for a long time.

It wasn’t until a knock came at the door that she locked her phone. “Come in.”

Heli entered, carrying a tall stack of documents and placing them on the desk in front of her. 

“These are the files for all self-healing ability users in the school.”

Then, she stood silently, expressionless, facing the woman seated in the executive chair.

They appeared to be of similar age at first glance, and none of the woman’s clothes or accessories cost less than five figures. 

Her golden hair was elegantly pinned up, and light makeup perfectly enhanced her naturally graceful features—an aging beauty whose presence remained commanding.

She was the Chairwoman of Meiqiantu Academy.

The gentle tone she had used with her daughter was now completely gone. She flipped through the documents carelessly, barely understanding them.

“What about the one who refused to cooperate?”

“The one on top.”

With that, the Chairwoman picked up the copy of Mi Xiaoliu’s medical report and flipped directly to the ability assessment page.

Basic cellular regeneration. Ability Level: LV2.

The most common type of self-healing ability—not a high level and of little research value. 

There were others of the same type with even higher levels.

“Any ability users here that meet our criteria?” she asked, setting down the useless page. Her fingers interlaced as she leaned forward slightly, her deep blue eyes gazing up at Heli.

Heli remained unfazed by the subtle pressure tactics.

“There are a few rare ones worth investigating, but I’ll need more funding. I’m the only one doing the research, and this time we only have blood samples.”

The Chairwoman spun her chair around, turning her back to Heli. “I’ll give you twenty million for now. Let me know if it’s not enough… What about that group of death row inmates?”

“They’ve all been used up.”

Her mood was awful, but the candy tasted good.

Mi Xiaoliu lay quietly on her bed, a lollipop in her mouth, staring at the ceiling. Circle was curled up asleep on her flat chest, rising and falling with each breath she took.

She tapped the lottery wheel.

“Master, now’s not the best time to draw… You might get a memory you don’t want to recall…” 

Sasha’s voice was soft and hesitant.

This time, Mi Xiaoliu ignored her and looked at the ¥1,000+ balance, then tapped “single draw.”

[Memory Fragment: 31631]

This one was a relatively long memory compared to previous ones.

Darkness. Her eyes were covered—she couldn’t see anything or move much. She could faintly hear machines running.

A large adult hand grabbed her small arm and inserted something into her vein.

Then came a conversation between a man and a woman.

Woman: “As you can see.”

Man: “How can this be?”

Woman: “Different direction, after all. Yesterday I gouged out her eyes and they regenerated within three seconds before disappearing again. Looks like we can’t use her organs to solve the funding problem.”

Man: “What if we completely destroy them within three seconds?”

Woman: “Tried that. Fire, acid, electrocution—none of it can truly kill her. This morning I severed all four limbs and stored them in separate spaces. Besides making her scream louder, the regeneration was the same—never took more than a minute.”

Man: “Vacuum?”

Woman: “Useless. She achieves full resurrection, and only heals when there’s physical damage or abnormality—doesn’t affect her development. The only downside is memory loss with each death and revival. If not for her weak resistance to poison and side effects, she’d qualify as at least LV5 for self-healing.”

Man: “Memory erasure? That’s great for us—makes everything easier.”

Woman: “True… I also tried decapitating her. The regeneration starts from wherever the head is located.”

Man: “Can this be replicated?”

Woman: “No, she’s a unique case.”

Man: “Shame. Let’s use her as a lab rat, then.”

Man: “Tried the fingernails yet?”

Woman: “No, trying that now.”

Sounds of tools clinking—cold and terrifying. But Mi Xiaoliu didn’t resist. In her mind, only Sasha’s unintelligible scolding echoed.

A small piece was clipped, followed by the sharp pain of being ripped out by the root.

……

Woman: “Seems like as long as there’s a wound, external tissues can regenerate too. But the energy source for this regeneration is still unclear.”

Man: “Then let’s test the energy issue next. No food or water for two months—see if she still keeps reviving. You’ll handle her experiments alone, is that okay?”

Woman: “Yes.”

…

“Master…”

“Someone blindfolded me,” Mi Xiaoliu whispered her memory aloud.

“It’s okay now, Master. They’re all gone. It’s okay now…” Sasha, the system sprite, didn’t seem to have a sophisticated AI. She couldn’t think of any better words to comfort her.

Mi Xiaoliu hugged her knees, curling up silently in the corner.

Lost.

“Range: approximately 5.21 meters. Freely controllable. Danger rating: E. Compared to others with similar abilities, this is unbelievable,” said the evaluation officer—a woman brought in through special connections—clearly impressed.

“Next, we’ll test the throwing range. Use your best—tennis balls.”

“Teacher, these are baseballs. Not the same thing,” said the blonde girl in glasses acting as the assistant, pushing over a basket of specially made baseballs.

Ever since last year, Yiwen’s ability couldn’t be tested with regular balls anymore—normal ones couldn’t withstand the shockwave and air friction generated.

“It’s all the same,” the evaluator said, offending both sports communities in a single sentence.

Meiqiantu Academy was massive—not necessarily luxurious, but standard for a school for the ability users. After the large-scale meteor incident and the LV5 Great Destruction, the world had plenty of open land.

Most of it was unused space, designated for safely testing student abilities. The entire area behind the test field leading to the outskirts of the city had become a de facto no-man’s-land. No one wanted to risk their lives on the school’s security measures or a student’s power level. Over time, people simply accepted that the entire zone belonged to the academy, even if it technically didn’t.

This was the one time students could freely unleash their powers.

And it proved justified. When Yiwen stood within the scanning zone and threw the baseball with her full ability, it flew far beyond the boundaries of the test zone.

Even though the ability was only activated after the ball left her hand, it still altered its force. Superpowers truly defied logic.

“Almost ten kilometers,” the evaluator recorded. For accurate calculations, they’d have to consider Yiwen’s strength, projectile deviation, trajectory, air resistance, wind direction, and many other factors—better left to machines.

“If you work hard on expanding your power’s range, I’m sure you’ll be the next LV4 in this city,” the evaluator praised.

Ability testing alone took up most of the day—precision control, maximum weight, duration…

When testing ended, the blonde girl with glasses smiled and clung to Yiwen’s arm. “You’re not playing today? Let’s go home together.”

Cool, pretty, strong, and well-paid—everything about her was ideal. Too bad she was a girl.

Even so, the public affection made others envious.

The red-haired girl with the ponytail, about to hand over a water bottle, glared with clenched teeth. That woman—her supposed “bestie”—even turned back and smiled at her. A provocation?

Yiwen, however, pulled her arm away coldly and looked back out of habit.

But this wasn’t a tennis court. No one was waiting for her in the stands like last week.

Maybe they weren’t feeling well—at least now she could go straight home without detouring.

A good thing.

“No, I’m heading to the bureau to help today,” she waved off the blonde girl without glasses.