Chapter 4 — Death on Credit
Long Tianchen leaned against a cracked wall in the crooked alley, watching the dust dance through thin rays of sunlight. His head still buzzed with the system's warnings about limited revivals. He tugged on the hem of his patched robe, muttering under his breath.
"In my past life, I spent so long trying not to die that I never lived. Always tiptoeing. Always hiding. And what did it get me? A bland obituary nobody read. Now I've got this freak system that wants me to die, but if I keep dying like a scared chicken crossing a busy road, it'll all be wasted. F-Rank death after F-Rank death. My legacy will be 'Village Idiot Dies in Creative Ways.' No, Tianchen. Not again."
He lifted his chin, his eyes darting from his corpse piles still tucked in alley shadows to the street where merchants yelled about onions. A laugh bubbled up in his throat.
"If I must die, then every death must be worth it. Each one has to carve my name deeper into this world's history. I'll make dying an art form. They'll build theaters just to re-enact my stupid demises. Shakespeare but with more blood and bread crumbs."
He raised one finger, as though lecturing invisible students. "The system wants me to die? Fine. But I'll only die on my terms. My death has to be profitable, memorable, and maybe even Instagram-worthy if this world had smartphones."
He paced the alley, considering possibilities.
"What if I fake-die during a royal banquet? Choke on golden chicken, revive, steal dessert?" He tapped his jaw. "Or maybe I let a bandit chop me in half, then revive mid-way and sue him for emotional damage?"
His mind spiraled.
"Dying in a duel might get me famous. Dying during a robbery might get me rich. Dying while trying to peek at the city lord's daughter's bath… no, wait, that's execution by castration. Delete idea."
He clutched his head dramatically, groaning. "Think, Tianchen, think! A strategic death that feeds the system, boosts my stats, and gives me leverage in this town. Something juicy. Something grand."
And then, like divine timing, voices erupted at the end of the alley.
Tianchen peered around the corner.
Two men stood in the middle of the narrow street, their fight already drawing a small circle of onlookers. The first was hunched and ragged, a debtor with shaking hands and a voice sharp with panic. His shirt clung with sweat, and his lips trembled as he shouted.
"I swear I'll pay you today! Just give me more time!"
Across from him stood a sturdier man with tired eyes and a clenched jaw—the debt collector. His sleeves were rolled up, his fists balled, and desperation burned behind his words.
"My mother's medicine runs out by nightfall. Do you think sickness waits for your promises? Debts must be paid, or she'll die."
The crowd buzzed. Some muttered about pity for the sick mother; others spat on the ground, cursing the shameless debtor.
The debtor's face twisted into something ugly, eyes darting like a rat cornered by cats. He barked out, his voice hoarse and defiant.
"You want me to pay? Then take my life instead!"
Gasps rippled. A child clutched his mother's skirt. A drunk laughed into his mug.
The collector froze, jaw trembling. His fists dropped slightly, his shoulders sinking. "Don't speak such madness. I don't want your life. I want my mother alive."
The debtor sneered. "Then you'll get neither."
From his shadowed corner, Tianchen's grin spread slow and wolfish. His teeth gleamed like he had just bitten into a stolen apple.
"Well, well. Look at fate delivering drama right to my doorstep."
He rubbed his palms together. "A debtor ready to throw away his life. A collector desperate for justice. A crowd hungry for spectacle. And me… the fool with a death-based power itching for a stage."
His heart pounded, excitement thrumming in his chest like a war drum. "This is the method I've been searching for. A death that isn't meaningless. A death that matters. A death that ties me into the story of this city."
He could already picture it: him stepping out, inserting himself into the quarrel, offering his life in place of payment, dying under the world's gaze, and reviving stronger than ever while everyone whispered his name.
The perfect stage.
And the perfect death.
His grin sharpened, eyes locked on the two men.
"This… this is my chance."