Eternal Night Holdings Group is thriving, and right now, it’s absolutely packed with talent. But as Jill Young lay on the plane taking stock, she realized that somewhere along the way, the Chosen Ones of Eternal Night had become seriously lopsided. And she wasn’t talking about their powers—she meant their personalities.
Just look at the crew around her!
First up, the badass shut-in who’ll rip his shirt off at the drop of a hat.
Next, the bombshell babe who’ll whip out a chainsaw without warning.
And then there’s the creepy uncle who’ll flash his **** if you say the wrong thing.
These three idiots—our so-called Three Heavenly Kings—have single-handedly tanked the moral standards of No One Under Heaven! And lately, we’ve got even more weirdos: the giant who’ll pilot a Gundam at the drop of a hat, the musclehead cosplaying as the Terminator with a cigar and a heavy machine gun, and a whole parade of assorted freaks and monsters. It’s pure chaos!
Glancing left and right, thank goodness—there’s still Rachel Luo, Big Bro, and Paladin holding down the fort, at least.
But wait a sec—think about it. Rachel Luo is Jill’s apprentice, Big Bro is Jill’s friend, and Paladin is Jasper Xiao’s follower—not a single one is directly connected to me! And as for anyone who is directly connected to me… yeah, let’s not even count them…
This is just bizarre. Is it really true that you become like whoever you hang around? Have all these folks turned into ‘fly-off-the-handle types’ because they’ve spent too much time with me, the queen of overreacting? Nah, I can’t be that much of a bad influence… right?
Puzzled by her own personality, Jill Young joined the crowd leaving the plane and headed for the airport customs checkpoint. The U.S. immigration department is downright ruthless—spot even the tiniest problem and they’ll slap on the cuffs or kick you out, no questions asked. It’s classic strong-arm tactics. With so many people desperate to get into the United States, they can afford to be as bullish as they want—and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Especially now, with the international situation so tense, the rules are stricter than ever. As Jill Young queued up, a commotion broke out.
Suddenly, there was a ruckus at the front of the line—someone was shouting in an unfamiliar language, arguing with the immigration officials. That alone would’ve been bad enough, but this mess looked like it was about to spiral out of control. Jill’s ears perked up; she could hear someone’s heart pounding like crazy. And it was coming from right beside her.
The guy right in front of her started to freak out, his heartbeat thundering like a neon sign flashing ‘I’ve got something to hide.’ If you looked at his head, you’d swear it was stamped with ‘Guilty as hell.’
Yeah, this dude is definitely up to something.
He had black hair and yellow skin, but he clearly wasn’t Asian—his face looked more Latin American. The guy was sweating bullets, and who knows what he was: illegal immigrant, fugitive, terrorist, or maybe a spy—though, honestly, what kind of spy would be this much of a nervous wreck?
The shouting up ahead got louder. Someone yelled, ‘Freeze!’ or something like that. Looks like they’d found a problem. The black-haired guy panicked, darting his eyes everywhere before finally locking onto Jill Young, his gaze swirling with a thousand emotions.
Jill Young was baffled: Dude, why are you looking at me? I’m not your partner—don’t give me that ‘please pay my party dues for me’ look. Uh oh, wait—he’s not thinking about taking me hostage, is he?!
‘I think he wants to take you hostage,’ Dream Monroe whispered, then snarked, ‘Guy’s got good taste, I’ll give him that.’
‘Trouble finds me the minute I step outside. Can this world just chill for once? I swear, I should’ve taken the VIP lane!’ Jill was so exasperated she wanted to pull her hair out. With so many people around, this was a real headache. If she slapped this big, burly dude into a spin right here, the immigration officers would definitely zero in on her. So much for undercover ops—she’d have to bail, fast.
I’m here to do big things—if I get taken down, it’d better be by Zade House’s black-tech or some super-powered big shot. If I can’t even get past immigration, that’s just embarrassing!
What now? What do I do?
Oh!
A lightbulb practically popped on over Jill Young's head—she had an idea!
"Officer, officer~~" Jill waved, actively drawing the immigration officers’ attention her way. She decisively pointed forward: "This guy looked super freaked out just now, shaking all over—definitely suspicious."
That's right, getting into a fight is always a last resort. When facing potential danger, a delicate young lady should reach for the law, not her fists. You know what they say—cry thief to catch a thief, throw your neighbor under the bus, better them than me! Five thousand years of Chinese political wisdom just possessed her soul!
Jill put on her best 'model citizen unafraid to rat out the bad guys' face: "He kept staring at me, real nasty look. I don’t think he’s up to any good."
Sure enough, a bunch of officers started heading over.
"FUCK!" The guy’s face went white as a sheet. He cursed, shoved through the crowd, and tried to bolt. Which, of course, made him look even sketchier. But with the immigration officers now on high alert, where could he go? A bunch of burly dudes charged at him like American football players, barreling straight through.
The lead muscleman chased him down like a leopard, tackled him at the waist, nearly knocking his guts out, then slammed him to the floor. The rest of the heavyweights piled on—no mercy, just a flurry of flying tackles. The guy was instantly buried under a wall of bodies.
In the noisy hall, everyone heard that scream—bone-crunching and miserable—as clear as day.
"Get this bastard out of here, ugh!" The Dwayne Johnson lookalike swaggered over, flexing his arms and cracking his neck. He gave Jill a polite enough smile: "You alright, ma’am?"
"I’m fine, just a little commotion." By now, Jill had reached the checkpoint. She handed her documents to the staff and casually chatted with the muscleman: "Everything was normal when I left, but now it’s chaos. What’s the world coming to?"
That’s right, she said ‘left’ and ‘came back’ because her fake identity was a born-and-bred American. To pull it off, she’d even tweaked her bone structure—eye sockets, nose bridge, the works—to look more Western. Not a huge change, but at first glance, she was a total stranger: a mixed-race beauty with zero resemblance to the real Jill Young.
"Texas?" The muscleman spotted her info and raised an eyebrow. "No kidding, I was born in Kansas, but I grew up on a ranch in Texas. Texas is my second home."
Whether he was double-checking her identity or just making conversation, the muscleman launched into a whole spiel about Texas life. Usually, fake identities fall apart under that kind of scrutiny, but Jill handled it like a pro—grinning like she’d run into an old friend and chatting away about everything under the sun.
She nailed every detail—nothing out of place!
Dream Monroe couldn’t help but ask telepathically: "Are you really that familiar with Texas?"
"Of course I am—Texas is practically my second home." Not even counting her adventures in the Pacific World, just Jill’s very first journey—the big underground adventure. Remember Max Easton, that hilarious Texan?
There were only two people in the underground world, and Max hadn’t seen another human in years. He was in full chatterbox mode, always rambling about Texas life. After a while, Jill picked up all sorts of local knowledge—and even fixed her accent.
Accent issues are the biggest headache for fake foreigners. That Chinese pronunciation just sticks out like a sore thumb.
Jill Young used to be terrible at foreign languages—whatever English she learned in school was long forgotten, and her Chinese accent vanished too. But by some twist of fate, after starting fresh, she ended up picking up a perfect Texas drawl from Max.
So, when the old ranchers in Texas talk while driving their tractors, she can talk just like them. She’d just crammed some more local knowledge, and now she felt totally confident.
“Welcome back to America,” the administrator said as he handed Jill her documents, tossing out some sage advice: “Things are rough out there lately. If you don’t have to travel, best stay home—there’s always someone out to get us.”
“Got it, bye-bye!” Jill waved to her ‘fellow Texan’, grabbed her suitcase, and followed the crowd out of the airport.
See? Told you it’s not my fault! My skills are totally well-rounded—the first step in an intel op: sneaking into the country, handled with ease! The rest of the family must’ve had their ‘fly-off-the-handle’ gene written into their DNA. Has nothing to do with me.
Yep, that’s how it is!
With her confidence restored, Jill strode ahead. As for Dream Monroe? No need to worry—she was like a ghost, standing right next to Jill, but nobody seemed to notice her.
“Hissss—” Jill stepped out of the airport, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly: “Whew… American car exhaust smells pretty rich—no different from back home in Beijing, Shanghai, or Guangzhou.”
“Where to now?” Even after traveling to other worlds, Dream Monroe still felt a little lost in a foreign land.
“Of course—to pick up the car.”
“Pick up the car?” Dream Monroe was surprised. “You have a car here?”
“Girl, don’t underestimate me. My company may be new, but it’s no pushover.” Jill whipped out a car key, spun it on her finger, and strode off: “Come on, let’s check out the New Mexico desert together!”
Ten minutes later, a car rolled out of the airport parking lot.