Star Odyssey - Chapter 4: Formcast Model

True Gods. Endless Divinities. Primordials. The Ancients. The Chaos. The Greater Chaos. The Infinite Realms.

Heaven. Hell. The Abyss. Purgatory. The Overvoid. The Greater Worlds. The Origin World. The Prime Verse. The Past, Present, Future.

Here. There. Everywhere. Nowhere.

“Why is it that, I cannot find any place that I truly belong? And who, or what... exactly am I, as a Mystique?”

Join our Enigma as he tries to find a place where he could belong, and fit in. While unveiling all the secrets and mysteries related to him, and his family.

Wen Zhi had a treasure, which allowed her to enter other people's dreams.Therefore, on her first day residing at the Shang family residence, she decided to explore Lady Shang's dreams first, to curry favor with her by pandering to her preferences...But an accidental bug occurred, and the person who ended up sharing Wen Zhi's dream was the person in charge of the Shang family, and her best friend's cousin, Shang Hexing!To figure out whether it was her own dream or a shared one, Wen Zhi discreetly told her best friend, “Your cousin has a red mole on his chest.”Her best friend, horrified, warned her, “My cousin is an unattainable flower, cold-hearted and solely focused on his career. There's no future between you two.”Wen Zhi was relieved. This must be her own dream.Recently, Shang Hexing had been troubled by frequent dreams at night.In those dreams, the same woman always appeared, with a delicate and soft body and a sweet, mellow voice that completely mesmerized him.It wasn't until he noticed that the young girl his mother had taken in was recently looking at him with panicked eyes...

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.