Chapter 131

Chapter 131: Then Should I Say Thank You Too?

“This is also something people online care about.”

Na Weier shrugged like it was harmless entertainment. “Relax. I’m not here to smear anyone. I’m just giving Qian Qi a chance to explain herself!”

The moment the words left his mouth, every gaze in the ward swung toward Qian Qi. Some looked anxious. Some pitied her. Some looked like they’d been waiting all day to watch her bleed.

Qian Qi stayed quiet. She rubbed Little Min’s small hand between her fingers. Little Min looked up at her, wide-eyed, like she didn’t understand why adults were so sharp.

In the end, Qian Qi let go.

She really couldn’t bring herself to use Little Min as a shield—to hide behind an orphan’s face to block a blade meant for her.

“I already said it.” Her voice was flat, almost bored. “Berserk powder is still in testing. It’s unstable. I missed the timing.”

She lifted her eyes, calm as ice. “That’s as far as I can go. Anything beyond that—sorry. I’m not capable.”

Na Weier didn’t back off. He leaned in like a shark catching blood. “Then what do you want to say to the family members of the people who died so miserably?”

Zhang Feng exploded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You want Qian Qi to apologize to them?”

The other classmates snapped too. Fists clenched. Chairs scraped. Anger crackled in the air.

“Do you even know how to interview someone?”

“That’s how you talk to a hero?”

“Say one more word and I’ll smack you!”

Seeing the students genuinely ready to throw hands, Na Weier pulled his microphone back, face sour. “I was just asking…”

“Ask my ass!” Little Min cut in, cheeks puffed with rage. “You’ve asked, like, a million questions! Shameless uncle!”

Na Weier’s face reddened—not from embarrassment, but from irritation.

“Fine. I won’t ask.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m done interviewing anyway.”

He shouldered his camera and stormed out.

Whatever he wanted, he’d gotten it. Qian Qi had spoken on record. Now all he had to do was add a little spice, a little poison, and the headline would write itself.

A people’s hero who killed a D-rank magic beast and even brewed a magic potion?

Please. That was boring.

A “mad hero” driven by greed, secretly experimenting on living people?

Now that had bite.

Still smirking to himself, Na Weier stepped out of the ward—and slammed straight into two men walking in.

Si Kong Wang had a durian tucked under his arm. The spiky thing jabbed Na Weier in the chest like a mace.

“Ah!” Na Weier yelped, staggering back.

“Sorry.” Si Kong Wang frowned, then glanced into the ward. “Why are there so many people?”

Na Weier clutched his chest and glared. “You call that sorry? You don’t watch where you’re going?”

Si Kong Wang’s eyes flicked past him to the ward. Other reporters were still inside. He glanced at Qian Qi. Her face didn’t change at all.

Then he looked back down at Na Weier and said, dry as sand, “Good point. Don’t you watch where you’re going? Why’d you have to crash into me?”

Na Weier choked.

“Bad luck,” Si Kong Wang muttered, brushing past him.

He walked into the ward and set the durian down—right beside a box of stinky tofu.

The smell hit like a physical attack. Sweet rot and fermented funk fused into one murderous cloud that flooded the room in seconds.

Na Weier was still trying to recover when he spotted the man beside Si Kong Wang.

His eyes bulged.

“Dungeon Association Chairman?”

Tang Yun De?

What was he doing here?

Na Weier’s instincts screamed. He snapped his microphone up like a weapon. “Chairman Tang—may I ask why you’re here? Are you here to see Qian Qi?”

Tang Yun De’s casual expression vanished. He straightened, face settling into official seriousness. “Yes. She was the first to discover and clear a D-rank dungeon. She protected many people. The Dungeon Association is here to thank her and offer our condolences and support.”

Inside the ward, Qian Qi’s mouth tugged into a faint, unimpressed curve.

The other reporters swarmed Tang Yun De like hungry flies. He almost never accepted interviews—him showing up here was basically handing them tomorrow’s front page.

Qian Qi and Tang Yun De weren’t even in the same weight class.

Maybe one day she would be. But right now? Not even close.

Tang Yun De answered two questions—clean, practiced—then walked straight to Qian Qi.

“You’re Qian Qi, right?” He held out his hand. “Hello. I’m Tang Yun De, chairman of the Dungeon Association.”

Cameras lifted. Microphones angled. Everyone waited for the handshake.

“Hello, hello!” Qian Qi smiled brightly and shook his hand—then immediately grabbed the durian Si Kong Wang had brought and shoved it into Tang Yun De’s arms. “You came all this way. Must’ve been exhausting. Here—this is a greeting gift. Please, you have to accept it.”

Tang Yun De stared at the durian’s armor of spikes.

He didn’t need a translator to hear the sarcasm: Came to offer condolences and support and didn’t even bring a get-well gift, huh?

With reporters filming and Qian Qi smiling sweetly, he had no choice. He took it, jaw twitching, and set it aside.

“Many people have probably already brought gifts,” he said, voice steady. “You don’t lack those. So I brought something more practical—on behalf of the Dungeon Association, a bravery bonus.”

He paused, then dropped the number like a hammer. “One million.”

Qian Qi’s face transformed so fast it looked like special effects. She grabbed Tang Yun De’s hands, eyes shining with sudden emotion. “Chairman Tang! Truly worthy of your position! Supporting our students’ ideals and our cause like this—”

Tang Yun De blinked.

Ideals? Cause?

Qian Qi kept going without breathing. “As a soon-to-be second-year student at Awakeners University in the Magic Plant Department, I represent the entire department in thanking you. With your support, every force—including the Awakeners Association—will support us too and contribute their strength!”

Tang Yun De: Huh?

The reporters, however, lit up like someone had handed them a map to buried treasure.

They shoved microphones at his face.

“Chairman Tang, are you planning to buy the berserk powder formula and contribute it to the public?”

“As the first bidder, how much will you offer for the formula?”

“If you buy it, what will you sell it for? Will you monopolize the magic potion?”

Tang Yun De didn’t flinch. Years of dealing with crises had built him a poker face out of steel. He smiled calmly. “That’s exactly why I’m here.”

He turned to Qian Qi. “Classmate Qian Qi, can you explain berserk powder in detail?”

“Of course.” Qian Qi’s lips curved, slow and satisfied. “But I’d prefer to talk without reporters present.”

“Fine.” Tang Yun De waved a hand. “All of you, step outside.”

The reporters tried to argue, unwilling to let go of this golden moment. But the Magic Plant students stood up as one and marched them out—none too gently.

When the door finally shut, the ward fell quiet.

Only Qian Qi, Tang Yun De, Zhang Feng, Liang Yu Ting, Little Min, the two grandpas, and Si Kong Wang remained.

Zhang Feng and Liang Yu Ting had been deliberately kept. Qian Qi wanted them there.

Tang Yun De finally noticed the two old men. He opened his mouth, clearly about to ask something—but Uncle Li and Grandpa Sun both rolled their eyes and turned their heads away like he was invisible.

Tang Yun De paused.

…Did he offend them somehow?

Before he could untangle it, Qian Qi hopped off the bed, climbed onto the table, and reached up to the wall. She pulled down a blue light-brain mounted high near the ceiling.

“What’s that?” Tang Yun De asked, genuinely curious.

“A recording,” Qian Qi said, eyes glinting. “So certain idiot reporters can’t twist the story.”

Then she turned and smiled at Tang Yun De—warm, sweet, and absolutely untrustworthy. “Of course, I won’t do that to you.”

Tang Yun De stared at her.

Then should he say thank you too?