From this moment on, whatever the System tells me to do—I’ll do the opposite.

  It says go east? I’ll march west.

  It says stand still? I’ll stomp just to spite it.

  It says lie low? I’ll raise hell.

  So there I was, hobbling deeper into the cave on a crooked branch I’d picked up God-knows-where, shivering with every step.

  A bright prompt blinked into view:

  Warning: Uncharted zone ahead. No encounters, no hot springs, no sages, no treasure. Strongly recommend immediate return.

  I snorted.

  “You told me jumping off a cliff would trigger a plot. Nearly killed me. You said there’d be a miracle in this cave. Haven’t seen squat. And you still expect me to listen?”

  I cursed my way forward, voice righteous, knees trembling.

  Then my foot clicked against something.

  “Oh no. Not again—”

  The slab gave way. Just like last time, I dropped like a rock—no reaction time, no chance.

  “I knew it!”

  This time I slid even faster, bouncing off rocks until my skull rang like a gong. The System’s voice boomed helpfully in my ear:

  Alert: You have entered ‘Lost Ruins – Sub-Level B.’ Note: Area sealed for four years. No maintenance, no legacy, no safety standards. Mind your step.

  “You’re telling me this place has levels?!”

  Before it could elaborate, I slammed into a pool of sticky mud with a resounding splat. Nose first.

  I dragged myself out, covered head to toe in muck, clothes shredded like a dog had chewed them.

  The cave was silent except for the flicker of a few broken formations sputtering on the wall before they coughed up black smoke and died.

  Then—boom—the stone wall split open, revealing a chamber. Over the entrance, carved in solemn script:

  Those with fate, enter.

  System: I advise you not to enter.

  Before I could reply, the stone door wheezed halfway open like an old man burping, then suddenly snapped off its hinges and face-planted in front of me, raising a puff of dust inches from my toes.

  I deadpanned. “So this is what fate means? Afraid I won’t come, so you flop down to extort me?”

  Dusting my pants, I leaned on the wall and limped inside. The chamber looked less like a cultivation treasure trove and more like an abandoned tomb—crumbling tiles, uneven floors, every step kicking up dirt.

  Three steps in, the wall fizzed like a rusty phonograph forced to play. Golden letters flickered into existence:

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  I, Tianyuan Zhenren, am the greatest sword cultivator of all time—

  I perked up, ready to kowtow and inherit some legendary legacy. But halfway through, the text sputtered, glitched, and coughed itself out:

  —sword cultivator… cultivator… cough…

  Poof. Gone.

  “…”

  Master, wait! You can’t just leave me on a cliffhanger!

  Three beats of silence. Then the System:

  Notice: Mechanism malfunction. Power insufficient. Loading failed.

  Current progress: Opening speech, 87%.

  I stared at the wall. Finally managed, “That’s it?”

  “For reference only.”

  Grinding my teeth, I hauled myself upright. “If I walk away now, do I at least keep a shred of protagonist dignity?”

  “No.”

  I groaned, grabbed a cracked femur off the ground as a cane, and shuffled forward.

  “All this, and you still won’t let me play dead? Do you people really think I’m some storybook hero?”

  Reminder: You are tagged as ‘Shining Example of misery.’ Traits: survival through cowardice, guaranteed beatings on travel, occasional reversal kills, ignored by Heaven.

  “…Thanks. Truly.”

  The ruins were dead quiet—just the tap of bone-cane on stone. No wind, no bugs, not even a fart of life.

  “Wonderful. Deader than the old well by the ancestral altar.”

  I muttered on, following a dark passageway until it opened into a mist-shrouded courtyard.

  The mist smelled faintly floral—pear blossoms and incense. Familiar. Too familiar.

  Then the fog thinned, and I froze.

  The gate of the Nangong General’s Estate.

  I blinked. Rubbed my eyes. Still there. That slanted plaque—I knew it too well. Father’s old friend had drunk three jars of our private brew after writing it, puked all over the steps, and nobody dared straighten the sign since.

  My chest tightened. I stepped through.

  Stone paths. Flowerbeds. The round gate ahead swung open, and there he was.

  Lian.

  I staggered. Nearly dropped my cane. That voice, that smile, that pose—straight from the painting etched into my memory.

  But wrong. Too bright. Too easy.

  The real Lian had never smiled at me like that. Not even when I pulled him into my arms and half-joked I’d spoil him for life. His smile had always been hidden, misty at the corners of his eyes. Never this bold.

  And that outfit—peach-pink silk. I’d once forced him to wear. Lian had glared at me like I’d lost my mind.

  Now? He wore it as if he’d chosen it himself.

  A chill ran up my neck.

  This wasn’t my Lian.

  This was the Cult Leader.

  And I was in an Unknown cave.

  I clenched my jaw, hobbled forward.

  “Drop the act. Who wrote this script? Making him clingier than the real one? Too much, don’t you think?”

  He only smiled gently. “A drink? Pear-blossom wine. You brewed it yourself.”

  For a second, my heart wavered. The scent was so real. And I was thirsty. Starving.

  Maybe—for once—the System glitched in my favor?

  I reached. The jug snapped into an iron claw and crunch—snapped down on my finger.

  “AAAAGH—!”

  Pain rocketed up my arm. I kicked the table over, swore until my voice cracked.

  “Get out here, you son of bitch! If you want to bite me, do it yourself, System!!”

  The illusion shattered. The smiling Lian crumbled into paper and scattered in the wind.

  Finally, the System speaks:

  Notice: Current trial—Lost Land, Sub-Level B, Stage One. Theme: Greed.

  “…Greed??”

  “Greed of beauty, wealth, power, life. Illusions test desire. The deeper the obsession, the harsher the punishment.”

  I clutched my throbbing finger, spitting through my teeth.

  “What?! You wouldn’t take it?!”

  “Classification complete. Confirmed: Standard Greed Trigger.”

  “I’ll show you greed—go to hell!” I snapped.

  System: Error — this system has no feet.

  I nearly fainted.

  Still, I got the point. This level was designed to trick me into wanting things. Touch nothing, want nothing—that was the only way out.

  I sighed, hugged my injured hand, and muttered, “Next time someone offers wine and beauty, I will kick them on the ass first.”

  The System said nothing. But I could feel it scribbling notes in the shadows.

  The path turned, opening into a new scene.

  This time—it wasn’t the General’s Estate.