After Ling Yun left the room, Bao Chen remained silent.

His face darkened as he clenched his fists in anger. "Are you SERIOUS? There’s no evidence! I played my role well, and yet you still found me out!"

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down. I can’t be angry right now. I have a job to do.

He stretched out his hand and started working. Before long, a voice called out from outside the door.

"Bao Chen, come over here."

The sudden call made him pause. He was confused, but he still walked outside.

Stepping out, he saw that the entire place was much busier than usual. Workers rushed around, carrying trays and shouting orders. The smell of food filled the air, mixing with the scent of burning wood.

"Bao Chen, go help with the baking," his boss, Wei Changfeng, ordered.

Bao Chen nodded and walked toward the baking area.

As soon as he stepped inside, the scorching heat hit him. The air was thick and burning, making his skin feel like it was on fire. The baking room was filled with sweaty, muscular men, all working hard. Their bare torsos glistened as they moved, carrying trays of bread, kneading dough, and monitoring the large stone ovens.

One of the workers turned to him and barked, "Take off your upper clothing and help us!"

For a moment, Bao Chen was confused. Then his work experience kicked in. Without hesitation, he removed his upper clothing and got to work.

The heat was suffocating. Sweat dripped down his back as he kneaded the dough, his muscles aching from the constant movement. The oven fires roared, making the room feel like a furnace.

As he worked, a strange feeling crept over him.

It was a cold sensation, like something crawling up his spine.

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Two old men were staring at Bao Chen like hawks. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

Instinctively, he turned to look—but the moment he did, they quickly lowered their heads, pretending to focus on their food.

Bao Chen hesitated for a second but then went back to work as if nothing had happened.

Time passed.

The work was chaotic but somehow orderly. The workers knew what they were doing, moving in sync with each other. Bao Chen focused on his tasks, trying to push the strange feeling aside.

After hours of labor, the shift finally ended.

Bao Chen sat on a chair, exhausted. His arms ached, and his body was drenched in sweat. He leaned back slightly, trying to catch his breath.

Still, something bothered him.

The points… I didn’t get any today.

There had been too many people around, too many eyes watching. It was too risky to use his ability here.

Just as he was thinking, a shadow appeared in front of him.

Bao Chen looked up and saw Wei Changfeng standing there.

Panic shot through him, and he quickly stood up.

"Sorry, boss! I’ll go back to work—"

"Wait."

Bao Chen froze.

Wei Changfeng reached into his robes and pulled out a small pouch. Without saying much, he tossed it to Bao Chen.

Bao Chen caught it instinctively.

"This is your week’s wages," Wei Changfeng said. "We’re closing early today. You can go home."

Then, he patted Bao Chen on the shoulder and walked away.

Bao Chen stared at the pouch in his hands.

It felt heavy. The weight of real, solid coins.

Something about it felt strange.

Is this really my boss from the previous world?

No… this was a different world.

As that realization settled in, it felt as if a pressure had been lifted from his back.

As Bao Chen walked home, exhaustion settled deep in his bones. The streets were quieter now, the usual evening bustle fading into scattered voices and the occasional clatter of dishes from open windows. He kept his head down, his thoughts drifting between the strange stares at the bakery and the heavy pouch of wages in his hand.

Just as he was passing a narrow alley, a loud shout rang out.

“Watch out!”

Before he could react, a wooden bucket tipped over from above. A foul, sticky liquid poured down, drenching him from head to toe. Bao Chen flinched as the substance seeped into his clothes. The smell was overwhelmingly disgusting—so pungent and acrid that he could only conclude it was some kind of urine.

Laughter broke out in the alleyway, subdued and regretful.

“Oh, no, we’re so sorry!” some of them called out, their tone apologetic rather than amused.

Bao Chen wiped his face with his sleeve, his expression darkening in irritation. A small group of young men stood nearby, one of them still clutching the empty bucket, his eyes downcast in genuine remorse.

“We were just cleaning up,” one of them stammered. “We didn’t see you there. Really, we’re sorry.”

“Cleaning up?” Bao Chen asked coldly, “What exactly were you cleaning up that you have something like this?”

The group fell silent, too embarrassed to respond or having nothing on hand to say.

“Hhhh,” Bao Chen sighed as he shook his head, choosing not to dwell on it too much. He had no idea exactly what the foul liquid was; he only knew that it reeked of something repulsive—something akin to urine. To him, it was just an unfortunate accident, nothing more. There was no hidden message, no calculated insult behind it.

With a clenched jaw, he forced himself to move on. Accidents happened, and he wasn’t about to let a mess like this ruin his day. Yet, as he continued down the street with his clothes still damp and his mood soured, one thought kept nagging at him: something was wrong, but he didn’t know what it was.

Unbeknownst to Bao Chen, an old man far away, his gaze fixed intently on him. Upon closer observation, it became clear that this was the same old man from the restaurant—watching Bao Chen with a peculiar intensity, as if ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. After seeing Bao Chen leave, the old man exhaled in relief and quietly disappeared into the night.