Herta's eyes were immediately drawn to March 7th—the moment she spotted the mechanical exoskeleton wrapped around the girl's frame; she couldn't look away.
Although she wasn't a mechanical engineer by trade, her intellect as a member of the Genius Society was sharp enough to recognize the brilliance of that design at a glance.
Ordinarily, exoskeletons were created to assist movement, to reduce physical exertion. From the perspective of physical training, such devices were utterly meaningless.
But whoever designed this exoskeleton clearly had a master's touch. Through ingenious structural design, they had achieved something remarkable.
The device didn't save energy—it consumed more of it!
What an incredible accomplishment that was.
In most industries, a design philosophy that worked against its purpose would get its creator buried alive by angry users.
But in the fitness industry, it had found its natural habitat. With its forced-motion feature, it allowed users to achieve maximum results in minimal time. The wearer would be pushed to the limit—muscles tearing and rebuilding in perfect rhythm—making it nearly impossible not to get stronger.
And it wasn't some reckless, flashy contraption either. Its movements encouraged balanced muscle development, each posture designed with precision. The more she examined it, the more Herta marveled at the designer's brilliance—
—and their utter disregard for human suffering.
It was a piece of equipment that prioritized results above all else, to a level even Herta, who rarely cared for anything outside of research, found borderline cruel.
She could hardly imagine what horrors this designer might unleash if they ever turned their talents toward weaponry.
Her gaze lingered on the exoskeleton again.
Hmm… should I import a few units to the Space Station? she wondered. It might improve the researchers' work efficiency.
But after a moment's thought, she gave up the idea.
Researchers didn't have consistent, repetitive physical tasks like training did. Forced-motion assistance would just make them grumpy.
Redirecting her thoughts back to the pink-haired girl in the exoskeleton, Herta couldn't help but sigh.
The Xianzhou's obsession with competition truly lived up to its galactic reputation. Combining both aerobic and strength training—while sightseeing along the way—was a level of efficiency that deserved to be promoted across the entire universe.
If the Xianzhou researchers she was about to collaborate with had even half this kind of work ethic, it would be perfect.
Unfortunately, they had invited her precisely because their technology had hit a dead end.
And in that domain, Herta was confident—she wasn't second to anyone. Even among the Genius Society, there were few she'd acknowledge as equals. Compared to the Xianzhou? Hah, not a chance.
She walked a few more steps, and then spotted March 7th's two "mentors."
At first glance, she thought the puppet's vision sensors must have malfunctioned.
Those are supposed to be her teachers? The man and woman in question looked younger than their student! And all three of them were long-lived species—there shouldn't be any discrepancy in aging speed.
Was this that Xianzhou saying—each has their own expertise, and the student need not be inferior to the master?
Herta felt a small cultural shock ripple through her synthetic brain.
And it was obvious those two "teachers" didn't get along.
The boy in blue robes floated midair, sword drawn, shouting, "You come up here!"
The little girl, gripping a blade taller than herself, braced on the ground and yelled back, "You come down here!"
Their stances screamed hostility rather than friendly sparring. How on earth had two people like that agreed to take on the same disciple?
And yet, all that strangeness was secondary to what really caught her attention—those swords.
As one of the universe's foremost collectors of Curios, Herta's sensors immediately locked onto the weapons.
But unlike the exoskeleton, her puppet body couldn't analyze them in detail.
All she could sense was that both swords radiated something extraordinary—an irresistible allure that tugged at her researcher's instincts.
How did the Xianzhou put it again?
Ah yes… not sure what it is, but it's awesome!
That vague, tantalizing sensation—it was like scratching an itch through a pair of boots. It made her seriously consider upgrading her puppet's sensory suite… or even flying over in person.
"Alright, everyone, pay attention—uhh~~"
A drowsy voice broke her thoughts. An orange-haired girl, clearly a streamer, yawned toward her holophone. "This private duel between the young elites of the Xianzhou Luofu and Xianzhou Zhuming has been going on for three whole system hours. They're still in the trash-talking phase."
Guinaifen was already regretting everything.
She had thought the match would be exciting, so she'd started a livestream without hesitation—but the duelists were so evenly matched that neither could overpower the other. The standoff had dragged endlessly.
And now, she was stuck. She couldn't just quit—the sunk cost of hours of streaming held her hostage. The longer she waited, the more she regretted it; the more she regretted it, the longer she waited.
To keep the chat alive, she'd resorted to buying ten different snacks and was halfway to becoming a mukbang streamer.
Ugh, should've gone to watch Sushang break a big rock on her chest instead—no, wait, chest on the rock!
Ahhhh! You two little ancestors, please just start fighting already! My viewers are leaving in droves—the stream's dying!
As she silently panicked, flailing inside, a calm female voice whispered behind her.
"Those weapons they're using… what's the deal with them?"
"Ah!"
Startled out of her mind, Guinaifen shrieked and whirled around.
A delicate face stared back at her. Before she could relax, her gaze dropped to the joints of the woman's fingers—
An automaton? The design was unfamiliar, but on the Xianzhou, the only people who operated automata like this were members of the Ten-Lords Commission!
An independent, powerful force even the Six Charioteers respected!
And if someone from that department showed up… it was almost never for a good reason.
Sure, she knew some of them—Hanya, Huohuo, and Xueyi—but that didn't mean she had pull with the Ten-Lords Commission.
Don't tell me I'm in trouble? Did someone in my stream chat break the law and drag me into it?!
Terrified of hearing bad news, Guinaifen bowed respectfully. "M-my lord, do you require something from me?"
Herta studied her expression and quickly realized she'd been mistaken for someone else.
Still, if the misunderstanding helped her gather intel, she wasn't about to correct it.
With a cold expression, she asked, "Those two—what's with their weapons?"
"Phew…" Relief washed over Guinaifen. Oh, thank the Aeons—it's just a question, not an arrest.
Her professional instincts as a top-tier streamer kicked in. Flashing a bright, camera-ready smile, she thumped her chest proudly. "You've come to the right person! I looked into this just to boost the stream's popularity. Other than the Cloud Knights, I'm the only one in all of the Exalting Sanctum who knows!"
She darted her eyes guiltily aside. Well… by the end of today's broadcast, probably everyone will know.
Pointing toward Yanqing, she launched into her spiel, words flowing like a river. "That heavy sword he's using is called the [Massacre Ruler]! On the battlefield, it cuts through enemies like paper—unstoppable wherever it strikes! It's imbued with the concept of severing all things—a rare and magnificent divine weapon! And it even—"
Guinaifen was just getting into it, gesturing wildly, her voice rising with excitement.
But Herta tuned out the fluff—zeroing in on one key phrase.
"Severing all things? Conceptual power?!"
Her head snapped toward the floating Yanqing, optics focusing.
Conceptual power was supposed to belong only to the Aeons. How could it be embedded in a mere weapon?
Had an Aeon personally forged it?
If that were true, why was it in the hands of a child?
And if a minor could wield something like that, just how powerful was the Luofu's regular military? Did every soldier possess Emanator-level strength?
Is this really the same Luofu I heard about?
I only ran a few simulated universes—how did the world change this much?!
Herta stood frozen, her puppet's processors stalling from sheer disbelief. The shock delivered by one Xianzhou child had completely crashed her system.