Great Glorious Machine Spirit

Lin En's first reaction was, "You didn't peek at me while I was showering, did you?"

Could you blame him? When faced with an artificial intelligence, who among normal people wouldn't think of that first?

Could the Machine Spirit's advanced intelligence also see what happened in the bathroom?

The Machine Spirit had no mouth, and now it felt insulted, but it had no way to defend itself.

So it angrily blew at him through every exhaust vent.

What did they take its glorious honor as?

Lin En nearly had his hair blown off by the Machine Spirit.

He wasn't exaggerating. Every vent in the ceiling—even the miniature ventilation outlet under the desk that he had never noticed before—opened to full power at the exact same moment.

Seven or eight powerful gusts blasted him from seven or eight different angles at once.

The tissues on the coffee table were blown away, and even the sofa cushions were overturned and sent rolling to the floor.

The wind clearly carried anger, like a furious beast snorting at him through its nostrils.

The miniature ventilation outlet under the desk was positioned at a tricky angle, aimed right at a small patch of skin on his lower back. It blew his shirt hem straight up, making the hair on his back stand on end.

His freshly dried hair took the brunt of it. Seven or eight streams of air tore at it from different directions, leaving it sticking out in every direction and making it look like a sea urchin.

The wind was so strong that it felt as if someone were yanking him by the hair. Lin En felt less like he was inside a cabin and more like he was standing in the center of a giant industrial fan's blast zone, his expression