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... p>

Yun Yang murmured, raising his goblet for a toast and gulped the crimson wine, his gaze cold and thoughtful.


He lazed on a chair, dressed in purple, under the orchid roof of the courtyard. His eyes seemed to be looking at the canopy of orchids, yet his dazed, faraway look was as if he was staring into another dimension.


His features were delicately sculpted; perfectly arched eyebrows framed a pair of deep black orbs, and a straight chiseled nose sat atop lips a ...

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Until he became the lowest-ranked master, his lonely and luckless life never changed.

Suddenly one day, a descendant injected him with a nanomachine, and the machine started ‘speaking’ to him.

[I am the seventh generation Nanomachine manufactured by Sky Cooperation, and I am operating as a central nerve connected to your brain.]

“What? What are you talking about?”

This was beyond the boy’s knowledge, he turned pale.

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“Who are you, and why are you doing this to me?”

[“I am the seventh generation Nanomachine.]

“Nano Mashin?”

[Yes, Nanomachine.]

The boy’s face hardened.

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“Um, are you really Mashin?”

The boy knelt down and asked with a trembling voice. At this, the Nanomachine attached to his cerebrum realized it had been misunderstood.