"What? Are you stupid? What do you mean by that?"
The words flew out before Zhao Lian could stop them. Her voice cracked like lightning through the crowd — sharp, exasperated, and a little panicked.
[That's how the game goes. I told you — you need to move to the next level in order to do as you wish.]
The voice of her system chimed cheerfully in her mind, far too calm for a moment like this.
Lian froze, blinking rapidly, heart pounding in her ears. Move to the next level? Was this thing serious? She wasn't even a gamer!
She took a step back. Then another.
Her hand trembled as she pressed it to her chest, as if that would block the system's voice out of her mind. "No. Nope. Absolutely not," she muttered under her breath. "Why the hell should I risk my life because some idiot original character had a death wish?"
Her eyes darted toward the beasts — monstrous creatures gleaming in purple, red, and blue. Their scales shimmered like wet obsidian, and the horned one's shadow towered over the crowd, blotting out the sun. Each breath they took warped the air, heat and cold twisting together like a storm.
The ground cracked under their steps. Spiritual pressure made the air heavy.
Lian's instinct screamed one thing: run.
Before chaos erupted, the Festival of Talent had been alive with laughter.
Cries of "Good!" "Bravo!" and "Outstanding!" rang through the air. Streamers of spirit silk drifted overhead like rainbows. Performers danced on lotus platforms suspended midair, and disciples demonstrated their abilities in controlled bursts of light.
Lian herself had joined in earlier, earning a few "goods" and "bravos." Not that she cared. She just wanted to blend in, smile, and avoid attention.
And now the same damned system was telling her to confront a creature that looked like it had eaten immortals for breakfast?
She eyed the horned beast again, horrified.
Look at them. They're not even normal-colored! Purple skin? Blue veins? One has a horn, two even — two!
Her lip twitched. "I'm not stupid," she hissed under her breath. "I'm not fighting that thing. I'm not even fighting a mosquito with that kind of face."
But the system didn't share her sense of reason.
[Mission Alert: Challenge the Demon Beasts. Earn +500 Points, +20 Agility, +10 Strength, +15 Spiritual Awareness, and +1 Hidden Attribute Bonus.]
[Failure to engage will result in negative consequence: -100 Health Points, -10 Reputation, and potential mission override.]
Lian's mouth fell open. "Override my—what? No, no, no. I'm not risking my damned life for numbers I don't even understand!"
____
The more she argued, the brighter the glowing "MISSION" text became in her mind — flashing red like a threat.
Lian groaned, pressing her palms over her ears even though it was all in her head. "Shut up! You're not real. You can't force me!"
[Warning: Player resistance detected.]
[Reminder: Non-compliance triggers system intervention.]
[Are you sure you wish to continue?]
"YES!" she shouted mentally, shaking her head like she could rattle the voice loose.
Her breathing quickened. Her chest rose and fell in panic, strands of hair sticking to her forehead. Around her, people screamed as the beasts roared, but to her, the loudest sound was that chirpy, relentless system.
This wasn't fair.
She wasn't a cultivator. She wasn't a warrior. She wasn't even from this damned world.
Back in her real life, she'd worked as a contract manager in a gaming company — the kind who made sure deals were signed, not the kind who played games. The irony was so bitter it almost made her laugh.
She remembered the day a developer had pitched Up, Miss Bratz! — a weird hybrid of cultivation and RPG simulation. Everyone else had dismissed it, calling it "too niche." Only she had defended it.
"It has xianxia," she'd said confidently. "People love xianxia — Chinese fantasy, immortal sects, spiritual beasts. It'll do well."
Her boss — arrogant, loud, and allergic to good ideas — had waved her off like she was dust on his sleeve.
And now?
The game had gone viral.
The "rejected idea" had become a global success.
And she? She was living inside it.
Not as the genius who predicted its success, but as the idiotic main character whose only purpose was to create chaos.
She almost laughed again — almost. Then the beast roared.
Back at the Isolation Hall, Village Chief Ren paced with hands clasped behind his back. He hadn't attended the Festival — duty called him elsewhere.
When he arrived at the isolation hall and saw Zhao Yue was gone, his eyes narrowed.
The Zhao parents stammered out excuses. "She's young," they said. "We couldn't refuse her…"
Ren's expression didn't change. But his silence was heavier than any scolding.
Then he asked, voice low and cutting, "If it were your youngest daughter, would you have allowed her to go?"
The father faltered. "O-of course we would—"
"Good answer," Ren said softly, eyes narrowing, "for the wrong people."
He turned and murmured something to the guards before walking away — his footsteps echoing like judgment itself.
Inside the hall, the Zhaos sat in silence. Yue had told them lies — that Lian was desperate for attention, that she performed in the streets, that she was a disgrace. And somehow, even after everything, they believed her.
They still wished it was Yue who had talent.
Favoritism ran too deep.
And perhaps, that was punishment enough.
Back at the Festival of Talent, chaos reigned.
The horned demon lifted a hammer wreathed in shadows, dark energy spiraling from it like smoke. The sky cracked open with thunder. The air stank of iron and ash.
The crowd screamed as spiritual shields shattered.
Lian stood frozen, her mind a blur of flashing system texts.
[Final Warning: Player disobedience confirmed.]
[Consequence: Mortality enforced.]
[System Initiating Death Penalty.]
"Wait, what?!"
The demon's hammer descended — a meteor of black fire.
For one fleeting moment, the world slowed. Lian's eyes widened. She could feel the vibration of the ground through her feet, the pressure squeezing her lungs, the impossible weight of fate crashing down.
"Damn you," she whispered — to the game, to fate, to the idiotic system that ruined everything.
And then — impact.
Light burst, sound shattered, the world went white.
Her last thought was bitterly ironic — she'd died trying not to die.
[System Notification: Player Lian — Life Count: -1]
[Mission Failed: "Demon Beast Interference."]
[Penalty Applied: Core Fragmented, Health Reset Pending.]
[Tip: Remember, Player — death is progress.]
The voice was chipper. Cruel. Mockingly polite.
As her consciousness faded, she thought she heard laughter — not from the crowd, not from the demons — but from somewhere above her, distant and mechanical.
And then, nothing.
Just silence.