I never thought I’d survive.

  Not because I’m iron-willed.

  Not because the system had mercy.

  Not because Heaven itself took pity.

  But because—

  Lian’s rope art was so exquisite that, at the very last second before my face bumped into a rock, it snagged on a dangling vine with a neat little snap.

  So here I am, dangling like a festive turkey before the pot, hanging in midair, neither rising nor falling. A big, bold “STUCK” written across the sky.

  The rope bites into my armpits; my arms are going numb.

  “Hey…” I manage a weak laugh. “Help… help…”

  Ding!

  System prompt: you are currently in status “Half-Hanging Off Cliff.” Entering Awkward Cooldown. Please refrain from violent struggle; side effects may include fractures, Qi deviation, and—

  “Why don’t you just add ‘accidental death’ while you’re at it…” I mutter.

  I glance up. Nothing but wind howling over the cliff. The vine keeps swaying as if holding a funeral for me.

  I glance down. A black void, cold air rushing up my nose.

  “System,” I rasp. “Any auto-escape function?”

  Detection: non-fatal, non-opportunity, non-protagonist-halo state. Intervention denied.

  “Can I… at least call for help?”

  Identifying contacts… Success. Current NPCs available: Hua, Man A in Black, Man B…

  “Wait.” I frown. “Who’s Hua?”

  System recites in a cold tune:

  Hua. Fake identity: host of the pleasure house of boys (male brothel), outwardly a powder-caked man who never smiles with his eyes.

  True identity: the second-in-command of the Blood Lotus Cult, serving Lian, in charge of intelligence, punishment, and sometimes housekeeping. Known for “a smile with hidden knives, knives with hidden needles, needles with hidden poison.” Can flirt a man into the hell.

  “…”

  “And Lian himself?” I whisper, almost afraid to hear.

  Lian: current sect master of the Blood Lotus Cult. Ruthless, favors his right-hand man Hua. Prefers red robes, master of charm arts. Said to swap faces as easily as masks, with moods as mercurial as the wind.

  By the time the system finishes, my heart is shrinking. So… I’d fallen for a beauty trap.

  I thought he was my soulmate, only to realize it was nothing but wishful thinking—beneath the skin, he was someone else entirely.

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  My lips tremble. The name “Lian” churns in my heart but sticks in my throat.

  “Call Wu,” I grit out. My little servant should still be around—

  Call failed. Wu is currently stuck on a random quest: ‘Wait by a river three miles away for three days after parting with the MC.’ Status: exhausted, mildly sunburned.

  I almost choke.

  “Wow. Your system really radiates humanity.”

  “Thank you for the compliment.”

  I debate whether to try swinging myself free or just shut my eyes and die with dignity.

  A rustling drifts up from below.

  I crane my neck, stiff as a board. A bat the size of a small dog flaps past my face, wingbeats stirring a reek of cave-rot.

  “System,” I croak. “Did that just blow my hair into a middle part?”

  “Nah. Off-center. Call it a seventy-thirty split.”

  “…Fantastic.”

  I close my eyes, trying to keep my heart as calm as still water. A half-dead MC dangling off a cliff is nothing new. The real problem is my legs are numb, my nose is full of cold air, and I’m about to sneeze.

  “System…” My voice trembles. “Any cliff-hanger anti-sneeze techniques?”

  “Regretfully, please suppress it. Alternatively, select a different manner of death.”

  “You—ah-choo!!”

  The vine whips like a live wire. I spin like a top; the knot cinches tighter and my breath breaks into ragged fragments.

  “You douche bag—”

  Ding!

  Tension threshold reached. System confirms host about to trigger ‘Unwilling Fall’ node.

  Preparing Plot Event Two: ‘Mystery Cave at the Bottom of the Cliff.’

  “You could’ve said that first!”

  Snap.

  The rope breaks.

  Thus I—an abandoned-novel MC pushed past the brink—plunge heroically once again, legs numb, hair wild, dignity in shreds.

  When I finally hit water, it’s ice-cold as if someone stored winter snow beneath it. I choke down a mouthful, thinking I’m done for. But childhood trauma saves me: my second and fourth brothers used to dunk me in the pond.

  I, Nangong Gong, can’t swim but can hold my breath.

  The frayed rope gives way; I claw in a sloppy dog-paddle until my hands find a ledge. By some miracle I drag myself out—soaked, hair plastered to my face, mouth full of water. I roll my eyes and faint on the spot.

  I wake feeling like Lian worked me over all night—every inch of me aches.

  “System…” I cough. “No strength. Injured. Fire? Food? A servant? I’m not picky.”

  System: Current mode: “Survival on Hard Difficulty.” No intervention.

  “Fire?”

  “None.”

  “Food?”

  “None.”

  “You douche bag—”

  “System has no bag.”

  “Then what do you have?”

  “Nothing but righteousness. Totally non-refundable.”

  I limp deeper into the cave. Not too deep, not too shallow. Wet at the front, rough at the back. Water dripping, wind moaning. My skin crawls.

  I scrounge up a few sticks and dry leaves, stack them waist-high, and scrape a fire-stone. My hands shake, my foot throbs; it takes fifteen minutes and three tries before a flame sputters to life.

  I huddle by the fire like the beggar boy who hangs around the Nangong mansion’s back door.

  “Everyone else jumps off a cliff to meet immortals. Me? I land in a bird-poop hole and have to light my own fire…”

  Plop. Something splats on my forehead.

  I wipe it off. “…Not even living better than an NPC.”

  System: Detected unstable mental state. Suggestion: think positive, survive actively, complain less.

  “Can I switch to another system?”

  “No.”

  “Then can I just switch you off?”

  “… …”

  At last, blessed silence.

  I sit there, dripping, thinking: Lian is the man in charge, Hua is the second- in- command, the system is a douche bag (p.s., with no bag), and I’m the useless MC.

  How is this life supposed to go on?

  I wrap my ragged robe tighter. My stomach’s empty but a fire lights in my chest.

  Made me jump off a cliff? Done.

  Called me useless? Fine.

  No rescue, no cheat, just cold prompts on a progress bar.

  I’m just a puppet, and it’s the one pulling the strings

  Well, I’m done playing.

  For the first time in this dropped novel, I, Nangong Gong, will decide on my own life.