Ling Chen's heart was doing its best impression of a jackhammer.
He stood frozen in the sect's garden, the silver-leafed spirit herb clutched behind his back, its faint glow leaking through his fingers.
The girl in green robes stared him down, her sharp eyes glinting like she could see right through his flimsy "admiring the flowers" excuse.
Her jade hairpin gleamed under the moonlight, and Ling was pretty sure it wasn't just a fashion statement.
"Uh, look, it's not what you think," Ling said, forcing a grin that probably looked more like a grimace. His gamer brain screamed de-escalate, but his mouth wasn't getting the memo. "I'm just… lost. Yeah, lost. New disciple, bad sense of direction."
The girl's smirk widened, but it wasn't friendly.
"Lost? In a restricted garden, at midnight, with Jian Hao's enforcers tearing up the market for you?" She stepped closer, her voice low and dangerous. "You're either stupid or bold, Ling Chen."
She knows my name. Ling's stomach did a flip. Was she one of Jian's fangirls, ready to rat him out? Or worse, some high-ranking disciple who'd squash him like a bug? The Villain Overlord System stayed silent, its blue screen nowhere to be seen. Typical. It was all "steal this herb" until he actually needed help.
"Okay, let's not do anything hasty," Ling said, raising his free hand like he was calming a feral cat. "I'm just gonna… go." He took a step back, praying the garden's runes wouldn't zap him into next week.
Her eyes flicked to the herb he was failing to hide. "That's a Low-Grade Spirit Herb. Stealing it's a one-way ticket to the punishment hall." She paused, tilting her head. "But I'm curious. Why risk it?"
Ling's mind raced. Tell the truth? Yeah, hi, I'm a guy from Earth stuck in a novel with a system that'll kill me if I don't play villain.
Nope, that'd get him locked in the sect's loony bin. Instead, he leaned into his best weapon: bullshitting.
"I'm just trying to survive," he said, letting his voice crack for effect. "You know how it is—outer disciples get nothing but scraps. That herb's my shot at not being cannon fodder."
Her expression softened, just a fraction.
"Survive, huh? You're not wrong about the scraps." She glanced over her shoulder, as if checking for guards, then back at him. "Go. Before I change my mind."
Ling didn't need to be told twice. He bolted, herb in hand, half-expecting a fireball to roast him. But no attack came.
He scrambled over the garden wall, landing in a muddy heap in the outer disciple quarters. His chest heaved, the herb's glow pulsing faintly in his fist.
"Holy crap, I'm alive," he gasped, slumping against a hut. The night was quiet now, no enforcers in sight. That girl—whoever she was—had let him go. Why? He didn't trust it, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
[Mission update: Low-Grade Spirit Herb acquired. Consume within 12 hours to complete mission. Reward: 200 Villain Points, Minor Cultivation Boost. Failure: System penalty.]
Ling stared at the system screen, now flickering back to life. "Penalty? What, you gonna shock me like a bad dog?"
The system didn't answer, because of course it didn't. He sighed and inspected the herb. Its silver leaves shimmered, giving off a faint minty scent.
In the novel, these things were like energy drinks for cultivators, jumpstarting their qi. If he was going to survive this death-trap world, he needed every edge.
He glanced around—no one in the courtyard, just the distant snores of sleeping disciples. Screw it. He popped the herb into his mouth, chewing fast. It tasted like mint mixed with battery acid, and his throat burned as he swallowed.
For a second, nothing happened. Then his chest exploded with heat.
Ling doubled over, gasping. It felt like someone had poured molten lava into his veins. The system screen flashed.
[Processing herb… Unlocking First Qi Meridian. Progress: 10%… 50%… 100%.]
The heat surged, then settled into a warm hum. Ling's body felt… different. Stronger, like he'd chugged a gallon of coffee and hit the gym for a year.
He flexed his fingers, sensing a faint energy—qi—flowing through him. It was weak, barely a trickle, but it was his. For the first time since waking up in this nightmare, he didn't feel like a total loser.
[Mission complete! Reward: 200 Villain Points, Minor Cultivation Boost. Current cultivation: Qi Condensation, Stage 1. New mission: Establish dominance. Defeat a rival disciple to earn respect. Reward: 150 Villain Points, Deceptive Aura skill.]
"Establish dominance?" Ling muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "What am I, a wolf?"
But the system's words sank in.
This world was dog-eat-dog, and he was the smallest mutt in the pack. If he didn't show some spine, he'd be trampled.
As if on cue, a shadow loomed over him.
"Well, well, look who's skulking around," a voice sneered. A stocky disciple, maybe eighteen, stood in the courtyard, flanked by two buddies. His face was all smirk and bad intentions, like a bully who'd watched too many kung fu flicks. "Ling Chen, the sect's favorite punching bag. Heard you pissed off Jian Hao. Big mistake."
Ling's gut tightened. He recognized this guy—Wei Gang, a minor thug from the novel who loved kicking down weaker disciples. Perfect.
The system's "rival" had just shown up, gift-wrapped.
"Wei Gang, right?" Ling said, standing slowly. His new qi buzzed, giving him a spark of confidence. "You here to throw a punch or just talk me to death?"
Wei's smirk faltered, then returned twice as nasty. "Big words for a Qi Condensation nobody. Let's see if you can back it up."
He cracked his knuckles, his buddies chuckling like they were in on some great joke.
Ling gripped his rusted dagger, heart racing.
He wasn't a fighter, but he'd played enough games to know how to fake it. The qi in his veins pulsed, and he focused, remembering the system's spark from the garden. Maybe he could pull off another trick.
"Bring it," Ling said, grinning like he wasn't terrified. Wei lunged, fist aimed at Ling's face.
Time slowed, the qi sharpening his senses.
Ling sidestepped, clumsy but fast, and swung the dagger's hilt at Wei's temple. It connected with a satisfying thunk. Wei staggered, cursing, and his buddies froze, shocked.
"Holy crap, it worked," Ling whispered, adrenaline surging. He didn't wait for Wei to recover. He tackled the guy, using his scrawny weight to pin him in the mud. The qi made him stronger—not much, but enough to land a solid punch to Wei's jaw.
"Stay down," Ling hissed, standing. His hands shook, but damn, that felt good. Wei groaned, spitting mud, while his buddies backed off, wide-eyed. For once, Ling wasn't the punching bag.
[Mission progress: Rival defeated. Reward pending. Warning: Hostile detected.]
Ling's grin faded. A new figure stepped into the courtyard, tall and imposing in blue robes—an inner disciple, his sword hilt gleaming with jade. His cold eyes locked on Ling, and the air grew heavy, like a storm about to break.
"Wei Gang may be trash," the disciple said, voice dripping with disdain, "but you? You're a dead man walking. Jian Hao wants you gone, and I'm here to make it happen."
Ling's heart sank. The system screen flickered, silent. Wei Gang smirked from the mud, and the inner disciple's hand rested on his sword.
Ling was out of tricks, out of time, and way out of luck.