VHBF -Chapter 124 The Bigshot Researcher Daddy (Part 14)

Having been seen—even if the other party was just a three-year-old child—Lin Ju panicked.

Yinyin was small, lying asleep on the sofa with a blanket over her. The sofa faced away from the main door, its back blocking the view. When Lin Ju came in earlier, she hadn’t noticed that there was anyone else in the office.

After all, Mo Linqing took the child with him wherever he went. She hadn’t thought that after lunch, Yinyin would fall asleep right there in her dad’s office.

Lin Ju’s first reaction was to think: Mo Linqing’s daughter had appeared—did that mean he was here too? In this office?

She didn’t have time to think further. In her panic, she hid herself inside her space.

Yinyin clung to the doorframe, peeking out curiously at the big sister who had appeared in Daddy’s lab. That big sister looked awful, her face pale. Yinyin was just about to greet her and ask if she was looking for Daddy, to tell her Daddy wasn’t here and to come back later—

But whoosh—she vanished.

Yinyin widened her eyes, rubbed them with her chubby little hands. Still no one was there.

Young as she was, Yinyin didn’t doubt her own eyes, nor did she think she was hallucinating. She thought this big sister was amazing—just like the immortals on TV, disappearing with a whoosh.

She waited by the doorframe. Waited and waited. Left and right, she waited, but the big sister never reappeared.

She toddled over on her short legs, searching back and forth where Lin Ju had been standing, but found nothing.

“Huh? Where did big sister go?”

Yinyin squatted down and muttered, “Why is she gone? Big sister, come out and play.”

A jade pendant, emerald green, lay unnoticed in a corner. Yinyin picked it up, wondering if big sister had dropped it.

Lin Ju could sense what was happening outside from within her space. Thinking of the terrifying villain described in the book, her body trembled, her face turning pale—she didn’t dare come out.

After waiting a long while without seeing the villain appear, she saw only his three-year-old daughter wander in—and even pick up her jade pendant!

That small, chubby palm held the space jade pendant that belonged to her. And she herself was hiding inside that very pendant. Lin Ju felt increasingly uneasy.

After confirming that the villain truly wasn’t there, Lin Ju thought it through. The research institute had extremely high security: armed police guarded the outside, and everyone inside was an officially employed, highly educated researcher. Mo Linqing’s office was even harder to approach than the director’s. Ordinary people wouldn’t enter lightly—and even if they did, they’d call Mo Linqing first to get permission.

That was why Mo Linqing felt safe leaving the child here, without precautions.

Having figured this out, Lin Ju sneered inwardly at the villain’s supreme confidence. Did he think this was his home base, so he could act without fear?

Thanks to his absolute self-confidence, she’d escaped disaster today. It was just a three-year-old child—she wasn’t afraid.

As long as she got the item out safely, she could vanish to the ends of the earth. What could the villain do to her then?

If she exposed the virus and produced the Z virus as evidence, the villain himself would be in trouble—how would he have time to deal with her?

Yinyin stared curiously at the jade pendant. She remembered this big sister—it was the same one she’d seen last time in Daddy’s office, the slightly naggy and slightly annoying big sister.

Feeling a bit embarrassed about holding a grudge against someone she’d only met once, Yinyin thought she should apologize when she saw her again. Daddy’s office drawers hid lots of snacks—bad Daddy had hidden them with her. Good Daddy didn’t know.

She wanted to share some snacks with big sister as an apology.

In the next instant, her vision blurred—and big sister reappeared in front of her.

Yinyin’s round eyes went wide. “Big sister, you’re amazing! Are you a fairy?”

Lin Ju snatched the jade pendant from Yinyin’s hand and shot her a vicious glare. If it weren’t for this annoying child, she’d have taken the item and left long ago—no need to waste time here or risk being discovered by Mo Linqing.

She hadn’t planned to bother with the child. Now that she had the Z virus, staying even a second longer was a risk. If Mo Linqing discovered her—even with her space as a backup—she instinctively feared the world-destroying demon from the book.

She was just about to turn away when a milky, childish voice sounded behind her:

“Big sister, you’re so amazing. Can you teach Yinyin to transform? Like you—whoosh, gone, then back again…”

Lin Ju spun around sharply, staring at Yinyin on the floor. Those beautiful big eyes looked at her, filled with admiration and longing.

Her heart lurched.

If she just left like this—wouldn’t her space be exposed?

A three-year-old wasn’t mute. The child had seen it—seen her disappear and reappear. A child might think she was a fairy, but what about adults?

What would they think? Would that devilishly intelligent man guess that she possessed something like a space?

Lin Ju didn’t dare think further and walked toward Yinyin step by step.

Yinyin instinctively took a step back. This big sister suddenly felt strange—kind of scary. Thinking her request had been too much and that fairy sister didn’t want to teach her, she stammered:

“Big sister, I have lots and lots of snacks. Daddy bought them. I’ll give them to you, okay?”

The young Yinyin had no idea danger was imminent. She still looked up with wide eyes, her chubby little face full of innocent naivety.

As Lin Ju reached out, she couldn’t help thinking: the daughter of a great demon being this silly and sweet—was that a case of extremes reversing?

The book hadn’t described the world-ending villain having a daughter. Lin Ju thought maybe she was just too stupid—and would die from that stupidity.

The system woke amid blaring alarms.

After several worlds, it had learned that no matter how terrifying a villain was, they often couldn’t resist the tiny paws of human toddlers. So once the toddler passed the initial stage, the system would place a protective barrier on her and then sleep peacefully.

For the system, dormancy conserved energy—like leaving a computer running too long; even if performance didn’t degrade, the core CPU would still get tired.

It saw the woman named Lin Ju gripping Yinyin’s neck, even intending to transfer her into the space to take her away, afraid the child’s cries would be heard.

The system was shocked. Acting instantly, it expended energy to set a barrier around Lin Ju’s space jade pendant, preventing her from throwing the toddler inside.

The system knew that once the toddler entered that wretched space—where every blade of grass was under her control—the child would be in grave danger.

It had never expected that, under the protection of two extremely intelligent fathers, the toddler would nearly be harmed.

Logically speaking, with her guardian father’s lofty status in the institute, this should’ve been the safest place for her. Who would’ve thought someone would risk everything to sneak in and steal something?

Scanning Lin Ju’s space, the system found—besides supplies—something that didn’t belong to her.

The villain’s Z virus.

Detecting Lin Ju’s abnormal soul fluctuations, the system understood.

A transmigrator familiar with the plot had entered a BE-ending novel with the villain as protagonist, trying to stop him from destroying the world—so she came to steal the virus…

The system pieced it all together in barely ten seconds.

Lin Ju stared grimly at the child in her grip. Why couldn’t she send this child into her space?

She tried again. Still no use. She couldn’t even enter it herself now.

Was this child cursed? Last time in Mo Linqing’s office, this child had already ruined one of her plans. Now the child appeared again—and she couldn’t access her space at all. She couldn’t even take items out; it was as if something had isolated her, cutting off contact.

Yinyin’s little face turned red from lack of oxygen, her lips an abnormal pale white.

The system was frantic. It couldn’t manifest physically. It could seal the space, but couldn’t intervene directly in human affairs.

With the world already halfway stabilized—and the villain having destroyed the mutated virus he’d created—the system hadn’t expected the toddler host to encounter danger so randomly at this moment.

Watching the toddler cry and gasp, the system’s heart twisted.

It even made an immediate decision: abandon this world and flee with the toddler.

In the next instant, the lab door was pushed open.

The man strode in on long legs, a gentle smile still on his face—the kind he unconsciously wore when coaxing his child.

“Little one, come out. Daddy will take you out to play.”

Hearing that voice, the system relaxed. In the hands of this devil, what good end could Lin Ju possibly have?

Given that the villain had been willing to abandon the Z virus plan and focus on raising his child, the toddler’s place in his heart was obvious.

Hearing her father’s voice, Yinyin cried out, “Daddy… wuwuwu… I—I’m…”

She could barely make a sound—only faint whimpers—her throat gripped too tightly to breathe. The system used its means to transmit her voice to the villain’s ears.

Lin Ju clamped a hand over the child’s mouth and dragged her deeper into the lab.

At moments of utmost crisis, fear was forgotten. Lin Ju knew only that the demon had arrived—and she absolutely couldn’t be discovered!

The weak, whimpering cries reached Mo Linqing’s ears, broken pleas for Daddy to save her.

The small cake he’d just wrangled from the director fell from his hand onto the floor.

When he’d entered earlier and found the office empty, with the lab door open, he’d thought the little one had slipped in to play.

But this broken cry for help told him otherwise.

His child was in danger.

“Waaah… Daddy, save… save Yinyin…”

The sobbing little voice faded, disappearing in moments.

Mo Linqing’s face darkened like a demon crawling out of the abyss, eyes bloodshot. He was a persona born of negative emotions—a devil returning from hell.

Step by step.

Lin Ju’s hands trembled as she covered the child. Each second stretched like a century. The child in her arms had already passed out from lack of oxygen.

Her widened pupils reflected only the man’s dark face and towering figure.

In the next second, the child she’d pinned down was snatched away into the man’s arms.

He didn’t even glance at Lin Ju—didn’t spare a moment to settle accounts.

Lowering his head, he touched the child’s face, forehead, and under her nose. He pressed his forehead to hers. Holding the little one—still soft like a freshly steamed dumpling—he trembled slightly at the fingertips, though Lin Ju didn’t notice.

—Do even demons feel fear?

“Don’t be afraid. Daddy’s here.”

“Good girl…”

He murmured softly, even though she couldn’t hear.

The system curled silently in its space, letting out a breath.

For the first time, it agreed with the toddler’s words: her villain Daddy was kind of handsome.

Back then, Yinyin had refused to eliminate one of her Daddy’s personas no matter what. Today, her bad Daddy had come to save her.

After confirming the little one was in his arms, Mo Linqing finally turned his gaze to the woman on the ground, terror in her eyes.

He thought he’d grown complacent after a period of peace. This world was full of self-overestimating, foul little crawlers.

Holding the child, he advanced like a demon from hell, contradictory malice surging outward.

That step of his long legs was like the tolling of a life countdown.

Tick. Tock.