chapter 1

When Liú Zhēn came to—well, sort of—he felt like he'd been stuffed into a refrigerator and forgotten there for someone's midnight snack. Bone-chilling, teeth-chattering cold clung to him like cling wrap, and his brain, bless its lazy neurons, struggled to piece together where the hell he was.

Naturally, his next thought wasn't comforting: "Oh, great. Did I die and get shipped express to Hell's freezer section?" His body shivered in agreement, as if to confirm his suspicions.

He tried opening his eyes, but it felt like peeling apart a sticky rice dumpling. And when he finally managed it, all he got was darkness. Pitch black. The kind of dark where even if he waved his hands around like a madman, he wouldn't have been able to tell if they were still attached.

Just as he was about to pass out again, some glitchy, robotic voice sliced through the silence like a haunted Alexa losing its Wi-Fi connection:

"...Hea...rule...

...Soul...bind...

...Trans...

...Biased..."

The voice sputtered out, leaving him more confused than a beginner stuck on chapter one of a cultivation manual. And with that, his consciousness hit the snooze button again.

The next time he woke, it wasn't because his body decided to cooperate. Nope, it was because of noise. A high-pitched, overly enthusiastic voice cut through the fog like nails on a chalkboard.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?! Gege isn't waking up at all? Then what's the point of keeping you useless healers around ?!"

A panicked male voice responded, dripping with the kind of desperation you'd hear from someone begging for a promotion:

"Miss, we're trying our best! The gongzi isn't waking up, but we're healers, not miracle workers. Please have mercy!"

"Trying your best? You've got the results of a donkey in a horse race!"

Liú Zhēn groaned internally. "Great. A live performance of 'Screeching Harpies: The Musical.' Just what I needed."

Before his brain could muster a protest, another voice joined in—calm but with the kind of authority that made you straighten your back even if you were lying down.

"Stop it, Língfēng. Your brother will wake up. Don't cause a ruckus here. Let the healers work, and stop threatening them."

"But, Mother—"

"Enough."

Liú Zhēn, a man who treasured his sleep as if it were gold, felt his irritation bubbling like a pot of soup left on high heat.

"If I could move, I'd shut you all up myself," he thought grimly, though a new concern crept in. Wait... who are these people? My family doesn't sound anything like this. Where am I?

The bickering continued, and Liú Zhēn, driven by frustration and curiosity, forced his eyes open again. It felt like trying to lift a boulder with chopsticks, but he managed.

What he saw made him want to close them right back.

Standing near his bed was a little girl who couldn't have been older than eight. She was cute enough to star in a commercial for overly sweet candy, but her sobbing? Oh boy. It was like listening to a squeaky faucet that wouldn't shut off.

Beside her was a woman dressed in flowing purple robes, looking as elegant as a crane in a lotus pond. She had the kind of youthful glow that skincare commercials lied about, making Liú Zhēn wonder if this was some advanced form of Photoshop brought to life.

Then there were the guys in white robes with golden embroidery, kneeling like extras from a high-budget historical drama. The whole setup screamed ancient cultivation novel cliché—or maybe just a fancy movie set.

Before Liú Zhēn could process this bizarre cosplay convention, the little girl let out an ear-piercing shriek.

"GEGE! YOU'RE AWAKE!" she screamed, launching herself at him like a caffeinated missile.

"Holy shit!" he thought, wincing as she nearly knocked him back into unconsciousness.

The girl babbled on, her questions firing at him like machine-gun rounds:

"Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Why didn't you wake up sooner? Are you hungry? Do you want soup?"

Liú Zhēn's brain was still buffering, so he just stared at her like she'd grown a second head. Before he could tell her to pipe down, the elegant woman intervened, her voice soft but tinged with authority.

"Chéng'er," she said, brushing a hand over his forehead like she'd done it a thousand times before. "How are you feeling? You had us all so worried."

Chéng'er? Who the hell is Chéng'er?

Liú Zhēn blinked, his brain trying to connect the dots, but it was like solving a Rubik's Cube with one hand tied behind his back.

Then it hit him.

Wait, hold on. Last thing I remember... I was heading to class, it was raining, I stepped into a puddle, and—oh, crap. The live wire. The memory slammed into him like a truck. Electrocuted by a puddle? Seriously? What am I, a fried dumpling?!

Pain—blinding, searing pain—flashed through his mind, and he grimaced.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned inwardly. "Who dies from a puddle? I wasn't even in the mood for waterworks that day!"

He stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, hoping for some answers. It offered none, just like everything else in this absurd situation.

He wanted to ask something, anything, but no words came out. It was like his mouth had been glued shut, leaving him mute while everyone else carried on as if his silence was normal.

The little girl, now less hysterical, sniffled and leaned closer. "Gege, are you really okay?"

Liú Zhēn nodded weakly, figuring it was the least effort he could muster, and watched as the healers, the elegant woman, and the overly dramatic girl finally left the room.

Before exiting, the girl paused at the door, her voice now soft and sugary: "Get well soon, gege. I'll come back later!"

Liú Zhēn sighed deeply, his body sinking further into the absurdly soft bed. "Sure, come back. It's not like I have anywhere else to go," he thought.

He finally took a proper look at his surroundings, and his eyebrows lifted in mild surprise.

The room was large, its space filled with an understated yet undeniable elegance. The air carried a faint scent of incense, mingling with the soft rustle of finely woven curtains that billowed gently with the breeze. Rich tapestries lined the walls, depicting serene landscapes and legendary beasts, their colors still vivid despite the passage of time. Ornate vases, perhaps not the rarest treasures, but certainly valuable, were placed on pedestals, and the furniture—though not opulent—had a sturdy, crafted quality that spoke of a meticulous taste for refinement.

The space wasn't overwhelming in its grandeur, but there was no denying the wealth in the attention to detail. The kind of wealth that was quietly proud, not desperate to impress.

He glanced around, then muttered under his breath, "Yeah, this place definitely screams 'I've got money, but I'm too humble to flaunt it.'" He could almost hear the vases whispering, "Don't touch me, peasant."

And now that he thought about it, this definitely didn't feel like some fancy movie set. No modern touches, no cameras lurking in the corners. The whole place had an ancient feel to it, like something straight out of a cultivation novel, where the walls probably held a hundred years of secrets.

That's when it happened. A voice—mechanical, detached, and unnervingly chipper—rang out in his head, clear as a bell:

[Greetings, Host! Welcome to the system. During the initialization of the「Be the Change You Wish to See」system, we are here to guide you. Our mission is to provide the best experience as you strive to complete your assigned tasks.]

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