I pressed the advantage, lowering my voice like a sly merchant whispering a secret deal.
"Brother Lin Tao, think carefully. Even if your sister has already rejected me in front of everyone, in the eyes of this city, she and I are still bound. The engagement papers haven't been annulled yet, have they?"
Lin Tao's fist froze mid-air. His veins bulged, but he didn't strike.
I let a thin smile curl across my lips. "Which means, whether you like it or not, your sister is still my fiancée. Now, imagine this—if you beat me here and now, what will the world say? That the great Lin family allows their daughter's fiancé to be thrashed like a stray dog in public? Tell me, does that not stain her reputation as well?"
His eyes widened a fraction. I could almost see the gears in his head grinding.
"Think further," I leaned in, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Tomorrow morning, the city will gossip: 'Ah, so this is the Lin family's future son-in-law? Crawling on the ground, bloodied by his brother-in-law's fists.' Do you really want the name of your precious sister, the noble Miss Lin Xue, dragged through the gutter because of me?"
For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air. The surrounding crowd began to murmur, eyes darting between us, their amusement barely hidden.
Lin Tao's jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. He finally growled, voice thick with frustration.
"You're right. First, I'll make my sister annul the engagement contract with you trash. Once that tie is cut, I'll crush you into dust for daring to flirt with my sister."
With that, he spun on his heel and stormed off, leaving behind only the echo of his fury.
I straightened my back, brushing imaginary dust from my sleeve.
"What does this idiot mean, 'daring to flirt with my sister'?" I muttered, my fists clenching as their figures receded. "Your sister is my legal fiancée, you muscle-headed shit. If I don't flirt with her, am I supposed to flirt with you instead?"
I swung a punch into the air, the motion sharp enough to cut wind.
I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair as the spectators whispered in amusement.
What's with that young miss anyway?
From the scattered fragments of the original Wei Feng's memories, I knew this much: though Lin Xue rejected his flowery confessions and his clumsy attempts at romance, she never actually annulled the engagement. Not once did she humiliate him in public.
In fact…
She even pleaded with her father to spare me a beating.
I frowned. The memory was crystal clear. Her voice, calm and steady, asking her father not to punish me too harshly when I crossed the line.
Strange girl…
She wasn't like the typical noble daughters who preened themselves in silk and ornaments, waiting for suitors to kneel at their feet. No. Lin Xue was different.
A cultivation maniac. The type who locked herself in her training courtyard for days, forgetting meals, ignoring servants, eyes blazing only with the next breakthrough.
For her, marriage and romance were trivialities—mere background noise to the great Dao she pursued. And me?
I chuckled darkly. To her, I'm nothing more than a convenient shield. A scarecrow fiancé to keep away the hordes of toads trying to taste the swan meat.
"Young master… who are you?" Mingzhu's voice trembled, her brows knitting in suspicion.
I blinked at her, wiping the sweat that trickled down my temple. "What do you mean?"
Her eyes darted to Lin Tao's retreating back, then back at me. "You just talked to Young Master Lin Tao for fifteen whole minutes without getting punched! Do you realize what that means? Normally, you'd be drooling on the ground within thirty seconds!"
…
Right. The body's original owner was basically a professional punching bag.
I forced a weak chuckle. "Maybe Lin Tao just… didn't feel like it today?"
"Hmph." Mingzhu folded her arms, her gaze sharp. "No. Something's different. You're not acting like your usual stupid self. It's like you've suddenly turned into… a slippery eel." She tilted her head, studying me as if I had grown a second head. "Annoying, but better than being pummeled half to death, I suppose."
Before I could cook up a witty retort, a crisp ding echoed in my skull.
I froze. "…What the—?"
Lines of radiant golden text unfurled across my vision like heavenly decrees descending from the nine skies:
[System Notification: Host has successfully altered a destined event—avoiding the beating from Lin Tao, Heroine's protective brother.]
[Result: The thread of Heaven's destiny has been diverted.]
[System fully activated.]
My heart hammered. Golden banners continued to ripple in the air before me:
[Welcome to the Plundering System.]
[Primary Function: Seize the fortune of protagonists. Rob their systems, their serendipitous encounters, their so-called "Heaven-blessed" qi luck.]
[Condition of Activation: Each time the host interferes with fate and changes the outcome, qi luck is plundered from the chosen target. Accumulate enough, and you may devour their system entirely.]
I stared, slack-jawed.
Wait. Wait. WAIT. Did I just… unlock a cheat code that lets me steal other people's cheats?!
I wanted to laugh, cry, and scream all at once. This wasn't just a system. This was theft incarnate.
And if there are "other systems"… doesn't that mean… I'm not the only transmigrator here?
My pulse quickened, the absurdity dawning on me. I'd transmigrated into a world where protagonists strutted around with shiny golden halos, fancy cheat codes, and endless plot armor.
And I just got the power to strip it all away.
A grin crept onto my lips, wild and unrestrained.
"Heaven's chosen sons, huh…" I whispered under my breath. "You've been living too comfortably. Your grandpa is here. Time to pay your taxes."
_
Next day.
I leaned back in the sliding chair, my feet lazily propped on the intricately carved wooden railing. The morning sun spilled into the room, catching on the golden threads of my robe. Mingzhu hovered beside me, a silver tray in her hands, arms crossed, pouting like a storm cloud trapped in porcelain. I suspected it was still my fault—forcing her to feed me grapes.
"Young master, if you don't eat properly, your body will—" she began, voice trembling somewhere between worry and indignation.
I caught a grape mid-air before she could finish, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction. "Mingzhu, do you know what's truly terrifying in this world?" I asked, leaning back so far my chair squeaked under the weight of my heroic laziness.
She glared at me, eyes flashing. "That you still survive every day despite being a crippled, useless waste?"
I laughed, loud and proud. "Close! But the real terror," I said, letting a grape dangle from my lips like a dramatic warrior in a wuxia scroll, "is having a servant like you—someone who can scold, complain, and lecture with the elegance of a thousand poets… all while making sure I never run out of grapes."
Mingzhu pinched the stem of another grape between her fingers, muttering something about "impossible masters" under her breath.
"Do you even know what time it is? We haven't had breakfast yet. You should—"
"No, no, no," I interrupted, letting the sliding chair glide gently back like a ship cutting through morning mist. "This is how novel protagonists enjoy their mornings. Reclining in comfort, being served by a loyal maid, pondering the mysteries of the world while grapes—yes, grapes—are fed directly into my mouth."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "The taste of victory, and grapes…. truly, life is beautiful, isn't it?" I added with a dramatic sigh.
Mingzhu rolled her eyes but still brought the next grape to my lips with the kind of exaggerated care that suggested she was both offended and unwilling to abandon her duties. I popped it in and let the juice roll down my chin, pretending it was a rare elixir that enhanced cultivation—or at least my ability to appear dramatic.
I leaned forward slightly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Mingzhu… tell me everything about this city while I eat. Every alley, every merchant, every sly cultivation sects and families scheming behind closed doors."
I want to understand the world I've been thrown into.
She huffed and settled into her usual position beside me, speaking with exaggerated patience that only servants in novels develop after decades of tolerating absurd young masters.
"Fine."