OFR – Chapter 302 No words were spoken that night

System Customer Service 295:
“Dear Sir, this is a kind reminder that Mr. Zhang Fengyi, a quasi–four-star user of Black Skynet, has purchased 313 ginsengs of varying grades from your shop at 3:42 a.m. on the 6th. The payment has already been transferred directly into your private account. Moreover, the buyer has requested this transaction be placed under official monitoring. Please prepare the goods and submit the pickup address as soon as possible.”

The message itself was fairly routine, but what made Mu Bai raise his brows was the note that immediately followed, automatically brought up by the system.

It appeared in several lines of blood-red text. Against the black-background interface of Black Skynet, this vivid color was glaringly conspicuous.

Special Remark: In a monitored transaction, if the seller fails to provide an address and shipment details within 36 hours, Black Skynet will first compensate the buyer in full. Furthermore, the platform reserves the right to access the seller’s identity and residential information from its global database to determine their location. If it is confirmed that the seller engages in any misconduct, then regardless of the seller’s power or background, regardless of which country they are in, Black Skynet will—based on the scale of loss and impact—take measures including but not limited to account termination, economic sanctions, media manipulation, hacker attacks, and global bounties, to ensure the seller pays for their wrongdoing.

This remark was strikingly harsh.

Most glaring of all was the phrase “including but not limited to.” Many who had never encountered it might not understand the weight behind it.

But Mu Bai knew.

“Including but not limited to” is a controversial phrase in legal contexts. It often appears in predatory terms and conditions, and many countries with advanced human rights and legal systems don’t even recognize it.

But in Black Skynet—a website standing above all national laws—this phrase was nothing less than the ultimate warning and declaration.

It meant that anyone attempting to play tricks during a monitored transaction would face Black Skynet’s terrifying retaliation, carried out by any means necessary.

And “any means necessary” did not mean years of lawsuits in real life, nor drawn-out negotiations, nor endless debates about legal rights.

It meant the most direct, crushing, and fatal counterattack.

When that moment came, those who dared to challenge Black Skynet’s bottom line would not even have the chance to kneel and beg for mercy.

Because in Black Skynet, no one would speak to you of life or of law.

So when Mu Bai truly read through the note, it was the first time he felt the website’s overwhelming dominance—above everything, even life itself.

This, he realized, was the iron-blooded side of the black-market network.

After all, this was a gathering place for the world’s elites and tycoons. Without such ruthless discipline, how could it ever remain so well-ordered?

Although Mu Bai frowned a little at the harsh tone of the official remark, he also understood—it was necessary for the proper functioning of the marketplace. So he quickly typed out a reply to the system representative.

Even though it was already close to 11 p.m., the system staff responded immediately.

Within minutes, the two agreed to finalize the deal for the next evening.

After settling everything, Mu Bai glanced at the time on his phone and realized it was nearly midnight.

Feeling tired, he lay down in bed, and before long, drifted off to sleep.

The night passed uneventfully.

The next morning, a little after six, Mu Bai woke up. After washing up, he received a video call from Mu Xiaoxiao.

During the call, they talked about some things from yesterday, exchanged a few words of concern and encouragement, and after about ten minutes, Mu Xiaoxiao sighed softly:

“Ah, this afternoon I have to start filming again. It’s a project from a major international entertainment group, so I might not be able to contact you for a while. Bai, I’ll miss you.”

Hearing this, Mu Bai didn’t act like a domineering CEO from a cliché drama, saying things like “Don’t go, I’ll take care of you.”

Because he knew that Mu Xiaoxiao, like himself, only wanted to help and support the other—not beg or be dependent.

So he simply nodded and said softly:
“Mm. Take good care of yourself. If anything comes up that you can’t handle, let me know immediately. Don’t try to shoulder it all by yourself, got it?”

“Mm-hmm, I know. I’ve got you to protect me, right? Oh, by the way, last night Auntie said you did something amazing at the Zijing Hutong. Tell me all about it?”

Mu Bai didn’t even need to think—just by looking at her innocent, playful expression on the screen, he knew she already had a good idea what happened. She just wanted him to say it so she could cheerfully “praise” him.

Honestly, though he saw right through her little trick, it still warmed his heart.

After a moment’s hesitation, he deliberately played along with her act, feigning childishness for a bit.

Then the two chatted for another ten minutes before reluctantly hanging up.

Once the call ended, Mu Bai walked out of his bedroom and into the living room.

By now it was past seven in the morning. The weather was bright and sunny, with winter sunlight slanting through the window, adding a rare touch of warmth to the air.

Li Xiaoqing had already prepared breakfast. The food was being kept warm in the pot, while she sat in front of the TV, still engrossed in yesterday’s romance drama—clearly a loyal fan.

Just as Mu Bai stretched lazily and was about to call her to eat, the intercom at the living room entrance suddenly rang—a rare sound.

Startled, he turned toward the wall monitor to see who it was, curious about who would come looking for him so early in the morning.

But when he saw the person on the screen, his expression shifted to one of surprise.

Because it wasn’t just anyone.

It was the one person who, at this moment, least should have appeared before him!