(Lu Shen's POV)
When I woke up the next morning, I knew something was wrong.
Not because of the faint ache in my ribs or the smell of burnt wood still hanging in the air. No — it was the silence. The kind of silence that only happens when an entire sect is collectively gossiping about you somewhere else.
I sat up, grimacing as pain flared across my shoulder. My clothes were still damp, my room half-scorched from last night's chaos. The sky outside was pale gray, rainclouds thinning after their rampage. Somewhere beyond the courtyard, I could already hear whispers carried on the wind.
That was never a good sign.
I pulled on my robe, half-asleep, and slid open the door.
Instantly, every conversation in the courtyard stopped.
Dozens of eyes turned toward me — disciples, servants, even a few passing elders. Their gazes were a mix of awe, confusion, and pure, unfiltered drama addiction.
"…Morning?" I said carefully.
A young disciple nearly dropped his broom. "Y-Young Master Lin! You're awake!"
"Unfortunately."
Someone at the back whispered a little too loudly, "Did you hear? He carried him through the storm! In his arms! Like a hero out of a poem!"
My eyelid twitched.
Another voice chimed in, "They say he fought the lightning itself to save the boy!"
"I heard the boy was glowing like a celestial being—"
"Silence!" snapped an older man.
Elder Mu. Beard sharp enough to slice bread, eyes cold enough to freeze rivers.
"Young Master Lin," he said crisply, "with me. Now."
Ah, perfect. Interrogation at sunrise. Just what I needed.
The Elder's chambers smelled like sandalwood and judgment. Scrolls lined the walls, and a teapot steamed between us like an executioner's hourglass.
Elder Mu didn't bother sitting. He just stood there, looming like a disappointed parent.
"Lin Feng," he began slowly, "I have received… reports."
I forced a smile. "Good ones, I hope?"
His eyebrow twitched. "They claim you risked your life for an outer disciple. One with no status, no talent, and no right to even stand near you. Is that true?"
I swallowed. "Well, technically, he was dying, so—"
"Why?"
There it was. That single word that could undo any lie.
My mind blanked. If I told the truth — I'm an isekai idiot trying not to die in your novel — I'd be burned alive for demonic possession.
So I went with the next best thing: pure, righteous nonsense.
"Elder Mu," I said solemnly, straightening my posture, "a true disciple of the Dao does not abandon his junior in crisis. Even if the heavens tremble, we must stand firm and embody compassion through action."
He blinked. "…What?"
I pressed on, fueled entirely by panic. "The path of cultivation is not built on pride, Elder. It is built on perseverance! On benevolence! On carrying your fellow man through the storm, even if — uh — your robes get ruined in the process."
The silence that followed could have sliced air.
Then —
System Notification: Moral High Ground Check: Passed. Reward — Reputation +5.
I nearly choked. "You're grading me for speeches now?!"
Elder Mu's frown deepened. "Excuse me?"
"Nothing!" I coughed quickly. "Ahem. Just… internal cultivation reflection. Very internal."
He studied me for another moment before sighing. "Hmph. Perhaps you have matured after all. The Sect Master will be… pleased."
I smiled weakly, trying not to faint from relief. "Of course. Always happy to… mature."
But as I turned to leave, his voice came again — quieter now, like a whisper meant to linger.
"Lin Feng."
I paused.
"The boy you saved — Yan Yezhen — his aura has changed. I felt it when the storm broke. Something ancient stirred in his meridians."
My blood ran cold.
"Changed how?" I asked.
"Different. Unstable. Familiar, yet not. As if an old bloodline awakened." Elder Mu's eyes sharpened. "Whatever you did last night, be careful. The heavens do not like meddling."
I swallowed. "Noted."
He didn't have to tell me twice.
By the time I escaped the Elder's glare, the entire sect had transformed into a gossip convention.
Everywhere I went — the training grounds, the dining hall, even the damn latrine corridor — disciples turned and whispered.
"Did you hear? He cradled him all the way to his room!"
"I heard he used his own spiritual energy to stabilize him!"
"I heard they—"
"Finish that sentence," I warned, glaring at the speaker, "and I'll feed you to the lightning next time it rains."
They scattered like startled rabbits.
System Update: Host Reputation increased to 75. Sect morale +3%. Gossip multiplier active for 24 hours.
"What the hell is a gossip multiplier?!" I muttered.
Public perception affects narrative flow. Congratulations, Host. You are now 40% more relevant to the main plot.
"Oh, great," I sighed. "Just what I wanted — to be visible."
Because visibility meant danger. And danger meant dying at the hands of a future Heavenly Lord who currently thought I was a decent person.
By afternoon, I finally made it back to my courtyard — only to find Sun Yang waiting by the gate, wringing her hands.
"Young Master Lin! He's awake!"
My heart jumped. "Yan Yezhen?"
She nodded eagerly. "He insisted on seeing you."
Oh no. Oh, no no no.
The courtyard doors slid open with a soft creak. The air inside still smelled faintly of herbs and smoke from last night's chaos.
Yan Yezhen sat propped up against the pillows, his long hair falling loosely over his shoulders, the sunlight casting silver over his pale face. He looked fragile, like frost glass that might shatter if touched.
When his gaze met mine, something flickered — confusion first, then something softer.
"You're here," he said quietly.
I tried for a casual shrug, but my heart had other plans. "You called for me."
He nodded, then hesitated before speaking again. "I wanted to thank you."
I waved it off quickly. "You don't have to. I just didn't want you dying on my doorstep. The paperwork would've been a nightmare."
His lips curved, faintly — almost a smile. "Still. Thank you."
Why did two words feel so heavy?
I shifted uncomfortably. "You're healing fast. That's good. Means the healers didn't waste all my ginseng for nothing."
His brows lifted slightly. "You used a three-hundred-year-old ginseng root."
I froze. "You—heard that?"
"I wasn't unconscious the whole time," he murmured. "You… argued with them. For me."
There was no accusation in his voice, just quiet disbelief — as if he couldn't quite comprehend why someone would go through that much trouble.
I rubbed the back of my neck, forcing a laugh. "Yeah, well. I was having a moment. Temporary insanity. Happens to the best of us."
He watched me for a long time, expression unreadable. "Elder Mu came by earlier."
My stomach dropped. "Oh? What did he say?"
"That I should be careful," Yan replied softly. "That my qi has… changed. That I might not be who I think I am."
I froze.
System Notification: Warning — Key Dialogue Triggered. Protagonist's self-realization path initiated.
"System, not now!" I hissed under my breath.
Yan tilted his head. "Hmm?"
"Nothing! Meditation technique. Helps me, uh, center my soul."
He nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced.
His gaze shifted toward the window, where rainwater still dripped from the roof. "The storm last night… I felt something in it. Power, maybe. Cold and bright at the same time. Then you were there, holding me."
My brain short-circuited.
"H-holding you?"
He blinked, utterly serious. "Yes. You wouldn't let go."
Oh, heavens.
Host embarrassment detected. Affection +5.
I coughed violently. "I mean, of course I didn't. You were bleeding out! I'm not a monster."
Yan's lips twitched again, amusement flickering across his face. "You're very strange, Young Master Lin."
"I get that a lot."
Silence followed — not awkward, just oddly… comfortable.
The candlelight between us flickered gently, painting his pale skin gold. His eyes caught the glow, crystalline and unreadable.
"I'll repay you one day," he said suddenly.
I frowned. "Repay me?"
"For saving my life."
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "You can start by not dying again."
That earned me a quiet chuckle — soft, rare, and gone too quickly.
For some reason, it stayed with me.
By evening, the gossip storm had evolved into a full-blown hurricane.
As I walked through the main corridor, I caught snippets everywhere:
"Did you see them together?"
"Apparently he visited his room personally."
"Do you think they're—"
"Shh! Don't say that where the Elders can hear!"
The whispers trailed after me like echoes.
System Update: Public Interest Level — 86%. Narrative weight increasing.
I groaned. "System, make them stop."
Impossible. The Host's relevance has reached threshold. Congratulations! You are now a major side character.
"Major side character? I'm supposed to be background furniture!"
Plot development has other plans.
"Of course it does," I muttered. "Because fate clearly enjoys making me suffer."
Night fell quietly over the sect.
The wind carried the faint scent of rain, and somewhere in the distance, disciples still whispered about the "heroic rescue." I sat beneath the peach tree in my courtyard, head tilted back, watching the clouds drift across the moon.
For the first time since transmigrating, the air felt heavier.
Elder Mu's words wouldn't leave me alone. Something ancient stirred in his meridians.
That couldn't be good. In the novel, Yan Yezhen's bloodline awakened years later — after Lin Feng's death. Which meant I'd successfully kicked the timeline in the shins again.
System Notification: Causality Deviation Level — 37%.
"Thirty-seven percent?!" I hissed. "That sounds fatal!"
Correction: It is concerning but narratively rich.
"Rich for who, exactly?"
Reader engagement probability: +62%.
I stared at the sky. "So I'm suffering for engagement stats now. Great."
Still, I couldn't stop thinking about the way Yan had looked earlier — fragile but determined, as if something inside him was quietly reshaping itself.
If this was the start of his bloodline awakening arc, then the next few chapters — sorry, weeks — were going to be hell.
The door slid open softly behind me.
I turned, startled, to see Yan Yezhen standing there, leaning lightly on the doorframe. His robe was pale blue this time, the fabric catching the moonlight like mist.
"You shouldn't be walking around," I said quickly. "You're supposed to rest."
He shook his head. "I couldn't sleep."
He hesitated, then stepped closer. The quiet sound of his bare feet against the wood floor filled the stillness between us.
"I wanted to thank you again," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Not just for saving me. For… not leaving."
I swallowed. "It's fine. Really. You'd have done the same for me."
He smiled faintly. "Would I?"
The question lingered, half-teasing, half-tragic.
System Alert: Emotional proximity detected. Affection +10.
I ignored it, even as my pulse skipped.
He looked out at the dark sky, the faintest breeze tugging at his hair. "I don't remember much from last night. Just light. Fire. And your voice."
I laughed weakly. "Yelling counts as a voice, I guess."
His gaze flickered to me, unreadable. "You're not what I expected, Young Master Lin."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You act like a fool," he said softly, "but your eyes look tired. Like someone carrying a story they didn't choose."
My breath caught. For a moment, I forgot how to speak.
Host emotional disturbance detected.
Yeah, no kidding.
Before I could come up with a deflection, he bowed slightly — graceful even in exhaustion.
"Thank you," he whispered again, then turned to leave.
The door closed behind him with a quiet click, leaving me alone under the moonlight.
System Update:
Mission Progress — "Maintain Trust until Affection ≥ 100."
Current Affection: 60.
Current Risk: Medium.
I stared at the glowing words hovering in the air.
"Maintain trust," I muttered. "Yeah, sure. Easy. Just keep pretending to be noble while the future god of destruction starts catching feelings. No problem."
The System stayed silent.
I leaned back against the tree trunk, exhaling slowly.
"Right," I whispered to the night. "What could possibly go wrong?"
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled again.
And for the first time since I'd woken up in this world, I wasn't sure if it was just the weather — or the plot coming for me.