The story has a problem with power scaling: Luo Yingxue is supposedly on par with interstellar powers (the God Race, Immortal Realm) but she still cares about a school discipline problem. That implies she values normal life. That’s fine, but it creates a weird contrast. She could solve the school issue with a snap, but instead she goes through a whole charade with money and mayor. Maybe she wants to keep a low profile?
The author exhibits a remarkable level of indulgence towards the reader, as has been emphasized in several previous reviews. One cannot help but admire how thoughtfully crafted the narrative is, catering to those who might lack a deep understanding of the intricacies involved. There is a notable commitment to ensuring that every concept is meticulously detailed, leaving no stone unturned in the exploration of the story’s themes. Moreover, it serves as a stern reminder to anyone harboring malicious intent: they ought to be particularly cautious in their dealings with transmigrants. Transmigrants, after all, possess an awareness of possibilities and resources that could easily turn the tide against them. This is especially true for those transmigrants who exhibit a misguided confidence in their comprehension of the intricate steps that underpin regional development — encompassing critical aspects such as economic progress, infrastructural advancement, and matters of defense and security. Their naivety could ultimately lead to dire consequences, both for themselves and others in their midst. By engaging with these themes, the author not only invites readers to reflect on the complexities of development but also challenges them to consider the repercussions of ignorance in a world where knowledge is power.
Xie Zhiyuan’s character design is so specific and funny: skull T-shirt, red jacket, rebellious smoker, but also a broke puppet maker who uses a rusty pedal tricycle and eats fancy Luosifen to console himself. He has this exaggerated “tough guy” persona on campus but he’s actually drying his butt on a windowsill and arguing with a scarecrow about money. The author leans into the contrast without making him pathetic. He’s endearing in his absurdity. Also, the way he deals with stress — like splurging on a luxury version of street noodle — is a deeply relatable coping mechanism. And even though the scarecrow mocks him, his dedication to saving up for a body for Zhao Yufeng is a core character motivation that makes all his clown behavior forgivable. He’s irresponsible in the small things but fundamentally loyal in the big ones.
1 Commander Wu's interrogation at the end is tense. He's not just buying Jiang Chen's story at face value. He's questioning the evidence, asking who killed Jueming, and demanding proof. That makes sense—the Jinyiwei can't just have internal chaos without investigation.
OMG the kiss. Wen Wan doesn’t hesitate a second when A’chai jokingly says “kiss me and you get the dagger.” She plants one on him, then licks her lips like it’s a snack. And he’s left completely flabbergasted, face red, unable to form words. That reversal of expectations—usually the male lead does the stealing—is hilarious. He totally walked into that one and I’m here for it. Best scene in the chapter.