Little Pink Starfish

This issue of the manga had a major plot development — the protagonist got a bit of a cheat buff. For the past while, he’d been tangled up over the matter with “Ran” and “Liu.” Although that had been put aside due to more pressing matters, it didn’t mean he’d forgotten about it.

Since it had always weighed on his mind, he naturally gravitated back toward it. He was nearly finished with his training on the mountain and, before heading down, he spent a night at a place he used to frequent as a child.

And it was there… that Jiuchiu gave him a little cheat, like something straight out of a fantasy or martial arts novel — Fa Ning had a dream.

In his dream, he saw Seventeen.

Yuan Yuanyuan looked at the Seventeen depicted in the manga. This version of him looked inexplicably young. Though monsters generally always looked the same, this Seventeen looked undeniably juvenile.

She studied the difference, and eventually realized… it was the hairstyle.

…Wait, Seventeen actually used to wear such a clean-cut hairstyle? As expected, in the world of anime, the easiest way to tell characters apart is by hair. Even people who cross from 3D to 2D follow this rule.

In the panel, Yuan was sitting in a chair, a few pages of notes spread out before him, filled with dense text. Yuan Yuanyuan glanced at them and recognized the content — it was a passage from a common textbook on demonic arts. She had seen it in Tang Shi’s books before.

Ordinary human readers might not recognize it, but the manga had included a voiceover for clarity.

Seventeen sat at the desk, carefully checking for errors before making final edits. After finishing, he flipped to the last page and scrawled a few Arabic numerals.

[1890.9.17]

Was this the earliest thing Seventeen ever wrote? Yuan Yuanyuan looked at the date, stunned. So he was already writing books on monster techniques in the 19th century…? It was like reading about some legendary figure from ancient times.

Of course, Yuan Yuanyuan had already known this for a while. But for most of the little monsters reading, this was probably the first time they’d been hit with such a revelation. Yuan Yuanyuan wondered if this was shattering their worldviews.

Fat Cat, reading beside her, suddenly said, “I’ve been to that place before.”

“Huh? You have? When?” Yuan Yuanyuan was startled.

“That time I came back and told you Fa Ning was definitely not normal.” Fat Cat explained, “There’s a lot they didn’t draw in the manga. That place had a bunch of paintings on the wall — one of them looked like an old scholar, and he looked a lot like Fa Ning.”

Yuan Yuanyuan vaguely remembered — yes, Fat Cat had mentioned something like that. But that was over two months ago, and it was what had prompted him to flee here in the first place.

She tried asking him more about it, but unusually, Fat Cat — who normally answered everything — clammed up. To all her questions, he just replied, “Hard to say.” And nothing more. No matter how she pressed, he refused to elaborate.

So Yuan Yuanyuan gave up for now — she figured she’d dig it out of him eventually.

Back in the manga, Fa Ning woke from his dream in a sweat. Something had dawned on him — on the technique he’d been studying, there was also a little “17” marked at the end in Arabic numerals.

Suddenly, a series of realizations hit him, like how he had heard rumors about Yuan and Ran-Niang…

Fa Ning wiped the sweat from his forehead and finally pieced together the identities of everyone in his dream.

So… Seventeen = Ran-Niang = Yuan?

And the technique he’d been training in — it was written by a monster…? There were even rumors that Yuan had once come to the human side as a spy. With that in mind, all the pieces fell into place.

But although Fa Ning’s rational mind told him this must be the truth, emotionally, he couldn’t accept it. He found it hard to believe the technique he was using had actually been written by Yuan… Did that make Yuan his teacher?

From another angle, he became increasingly disturbed by the idea that Yuan was capable of writing such a powerful technique. It was strange and eerie — half divine, half demonic. If it ever spread freely, Fa Ning couldn’t imagine what chaos it would unleash among the humans.

Caught in this whirlwind of dread and confusion, Fa Ning couldn’t sleep all night, tossing and turning in bed.

Yuan Yuanyuan thought this wasn’t really worth getting so worked up over. Back when Seventeen wrote that book, he obviously didn’t have pure motives. A monster writing a human cultivation technique — it was never about benefiting humanity.

Fa Ning relied on the technique to calm himself. Without it, he would spiral into violent rage and even lose all rationality.

Yuan Yuanyuan remembered many things, including the blood — she wasn’t exaggerating when she said there had been a time she created “reserves.” But later, as she got stronger… well, if it were truly about stockpiling food, weak prey would’ve made more sense. That idea didn’t really hold up.

Now that the truth was out and the world knew Seventeen was Yuan, people had become obsessed with digging deeper into his motives. But they had forgotten one simple thing:

From an average person’s point of view, the question of who wrote Fa Ning’s technique wasn’t even that important… Compared to the standard monster textbooks in use, it was just a minor detail…

Among those studying demon arts, half of them lost their minds overnight.

“Mass hysteria” didn’t even begin to describe it. Monsters who had previously cursed Yuan as a “traitor” now suddenly began calling him “Lord Yuan.”

“AAAH I don’t believe it!” Qiu Ling practically shrieked, while Tang Shi shouted hoarsely, “No way! No way! That technique that tormented me all these years… turns out Yuan wrote it?! I KNEW there was something off about that guy! He’s a traitor! A huge traitor! Enemy of all monsters!”

Qiu Ling summarized Tang Shi’s rant like this: It’s like suddenly realizing that every math textbook you’ve studied since elementary school — including the practice workbooks — was written by the same person.

That person… honestly deserves a beatdown. Wait, no, that’s not right. We’re good kids. Math is a great pillar of human progress.

Qiu Ling composed herself a bit. Honestly, she had to admit Yuan was incredible. For an entire subject’s curriculum to be authored by one individual was astounding — and yet that’s exactly what had happened. The monster world had been using his textbooks for a century.

“Manga didn’t even mention that the current standard textbooks on demon arts were all compiled by Yuan…” Tang Shi muttered. “Jiuchiu is way too biased against humans. He didn’t even draw that — which makes Yuan seem way weaker than he actually is, you know?”

“I get it, I get it…” Qiu Ling nodded. “You mean Jiuchiu nerfed Yuan in the manga, but in reality he’s way stronger, which makes the humans in the story look totally weak. It’s rare for you to care so much about human portrayal, but hey — who knows? Maybe next chapter Jiuchiu will reveal that Yuan wrote all your textbooks.”

“…You’re so cruel.” Tang Shi went quiet for a moment, then said, “You’re not a monster, so you don’t understand how terrifying this is for us. When the chapter dropped yesterday, in my class group chat, 53 demon-arts-focused students lost their minds. Two senior classmates literally said they were defecting to the Mask Organization — no one could stop them.”

“Wait.” Qiu Ling suddenly zeroed in on something. “You’re telling me… some of them want to join the Mask Organization… just because they found out Yuan wrote the textbooks?”

“Yup,” Tang Shi replied.

Qiu Ling suddenly felt her mind go blank.

She sat alone on her bed, goosebumps erupting all over her skin.

She’d seen before how monsters worshipped power — it bordered on pathological. Big monsters protected the small ones, and the small ones paid tribute in return. Qiu Ling had mocked it before, though never openly, out of respect for Tang Shi.

To her, it was something etched into their bones — an instinct as natural as eating or breathing. From ancient times until now, it had never changed.

But today was the first time she realized just how terrifying that instinct could be…

Going by the manga and Tang Shi’s explanation, Yuan had basically become the founder of demon arts. For those who studied it, his allure must be overwhelming.

Qiu Ling couldn’t put that into words. But Yuan Yuanyuan could. The next time she went to the Mask Organization…

She was stunned.

Drums pounded, firecrackers popped, red flags waved, and crowds surged.

Yuan Yuanyuan walked back to her room in a complete daze. She looked at the huge number of people suddenly flooding in and had no idea what was going on.

*What the hell? Did we just massively expand the organization? Why am I the last to know? I’m supposed to be the boss, right? Could I *be* any more invisible?*

Yuan Yuanyuan was full of sarcastic complaints, but since she wasn’t the real leader, she didn’t say anything. She turned to head inside. Just as she pushed the door open, a deafening cheer erupted behind her.

It was so loud that she nearly collapsed in shock.

She turned to see what had happened — and the crowd fell completely silent.

She turned back — and once again, an earth-shaking roar broke out behind her.

In the middle of all the chaos, completely confused, Yuan Yuanyuan pushed open the door and slipped inside… and quietly shut it behind her.