The Klementinum Library didn't just feel like a temple of knowledge anymore; it felt like a trap set by a god who had spent too much time reading comedy scripts. Outside, the "Alliance of the Annoyed"—comprising the Gala Five, three Regional Deities disguised as tourists, and a battalion of confused commandos—had finally surrounded the building.
As the front doors groaned open, Su Meiling and Lin Xuerui led the charge, their faces set in grim determination. They crossed the threshold, ready to unleash a "Reality-Anchoring Field."
"Chen Feng! You have stolen the treasures of the East and West! Surrender now and—" Meiling started, but her voice suddenly pitched up an octave.
"—and if you do, we'll buy you a vest! We are here to put you to the test, and frankly, we are not impressed!"
She clapped a hand over her mouth. Xuerui stepped forward, her eyes cold enough to freeze a volcano. "Stop this nonsense! You are a thief of the highest degree—"
"—and you smell like old socks and a cup of green tea!" Xuerui finished, her face turning a shade of red that matched Chen Feng's blazer.
The "Stuttering Ward" was working perfectly. Behind them, the Thunder Dragon (currently in the form of a man in a very tight Hawaiian shirt) tried to roar, but only managed: "I am the lord of the storm and the sky! I'll poke out your metaphorical eye! Why am I speaking this way? Oh my!"
Chen Feng didn't even look up from his desk. He was currently using a magnifying glass to inspect a 16th-century map of the moon.
"Ah, the Alliance has arrived," he whispered, the sound carrying through the hall like a physical weight. "Please, keep your voices down. This is a library, not a karaoke bar. If you're looking for the 'Section of Sovereignty,' you're in the wrong place. You want the hallway on the left."
The Alliance charged down the left hallway, only to find themselves in the "Labyrinth of Literature." No matter which way they turned—north, south, or toward the emergency exit—they were met with endless shelves of a single book: "The 1,000-Year Evolution of the Potato Peeler: A Study in Boredom."
"We have been walking for an hour or three!" Seraphina shouted, tripping over a stack of starch-based encyclopedias. "I want to be home and have some brie! Chen Feng, let us go, we plea!"
Chen Feng finally stood up, his red cardigan draped elegantly over his shoulders. He walked toward the trapped Alliance, Gary trailing behind him with a tray of herbal tea and a stack of "Fine Invoices."
"You know," Chen Feng said, his voice echoing with a playful, dangerous edge. "I was reminiscing about others who tried to obstruct my 'Salted Fish' retirement. You're actually doing quite well compared to them."
He leaned against a bookshelf and began to recount his favorite punishments in vivid, agonizing detail:
The Empress of the Eternal Void: She once tried to "Capture" Chen Feng in a bottle of solidified time. He didn't break the bottle; he simply turned the inside of it into a 24-hour Loop of a Middle-School Clarinet Recital. She stayed there for six centuries, listening to "Mary Had a Little Lamb" played slightly out of tune. When he finally let her out, she could no longer hear the color blue without weeping.
The Titan of Tectonic Plates: He tried to crush Chen Feng between two continents. Chen Feng simply replaced the Titan's nervous system with the Sensory Feedback of a Sensitive Housecat. For a thousand years, the giant couldn't step anywhere because the grass "felt too ticklish" and the wind made him want to compulsively lick his own shoulder.
The Galactic Tax Collector: He demanded 20% of Chen Feng's spiritual essence. Chen Feng paid him—in Incorporeal Confetti. Every time the Collector tried to think a serious thought or command his fleet, a burst of glitter and the sound of a party horn would explode inside his skull. He eventually retired to become a professional clown in a dimension made of balloons.
"So you see," Chen Feng smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the Emperor's First Breath. "I'm being very lenient with the Rhyming and the Potatoes. It's practically a vacation."
He stopped in front of Su Meiling, who was currently trying to read a book on potato peeling just to stay sane.
"You want the treasures?" Chen Feng asked. "They aren't treasures to me. They're bookmarks. They're coasters. They're the things that remind me that the world is too loud. But since you've disrupted the silence of my favorite library..."
He tapped his library stamp against the Manuscript of Fate.
"I am charging you a Collective Late Fee. For every minute you've spent hunting me today, you will spend one week feeling a 'Mildly Inconvenient Itch' in a place you cannot reach. And for the 'Aegis Net'?"
He snapped his fingers. Across the globe, the billions of dollars of satellite equipment didn't explode. Instead, they began broadcasting a live feed of Gary doing a 10-hour tutorial on how to properly dust a bookshelf.
"Now," Chen Feng whispered, the Rhyming Ward suddenly lifting as he leaned in close to Meiling. "Would you like to check out a book, or are you going to leave before I decide to turn your high heels into actual loaves of sourdough bread?"
Meiling looked at her heels. She looked at the potatoes. She looked at the Sovereign's terrifyingly calm eyes.
"We're leaving," she whispered, no longer rhyming but definitely shaking.
"Good choice," Chen Feng smiled. "And take a potato with you. They're full of potassium."