A faint chime echoed through endless emptiness. It wasn't loud, nor soft—it was simply there, vibrating through Zhao Lian's mind like a ripple across water.
[System initializing: Username fit@up found]
The words glowed in front of her, floating in a space that had no color, no sound—only stillness that felt eternal.
Zhao Lian blinked, then blinked again. There was no ground, yet she stood. No sky, yet something vast pressed down above her. Her body felt light, like smoke, yet her thoughts were heavy and loud.
"Hey, system," she croaked, her voice echoing oddly. "What's this place? Why am I here?"
Another ding responded.
[System detected a failure and has granted a respawn. One out of one thousand (1/1000). Death sentence has been given.]
Zhao Lian's jaw dropped. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. She looked like a goldfish mid-panic.
"I… what—wait, what did you just say? A death sentence? Excuse me?" she sputtered.
[This is the Void of Nothingness. Each death will land you here. Think of it as your charger area—where you recharge and understand why you are in the game.]
Zhao Lian blinked twice. "Are you serious right now?"
[System only speaks with seriousness when required.]
Her hands flew up in frustration. "That's not comforting at all! What game? What charger area? I didn't even agree to join anything!"
[Like I told you before, you need to reach the second level to do according to what you see right.]
"Second level?" Zhao Lian muttered, pacing back and forth—though there wasn't really a 'floor' to walk on. Each step left glowing ripples, fading into nothing. "How many tasks are we talking about?"
[That, the system cannot say. You will be notified when you have passed the next level.]
"You're stupid," she snapped, pointing an accusing finger at the floating panel. "This isn't how it happens in games! At least games have task lists, quests, reward menus—info screens! You can't just dump me here and expect me to wing it!"
[That you are right. Many systems are designed like that. But I am not one of them. I was made to give tasks and rewards. When a task appears, I will notify you.]
Zhao Lian just… stared. The light from the system interface reflected faintly in her wide, unamused eyes. "So, you're telling me… I died. You respawned me. And now I'm supposed to keep dying until I figure out how to survive?"
[Affirmative.]
Her shoulders sagged. "Oh, wonderful. Just perfect." She threw her hands up dramatically. "Fine, let's go back. Let's face those horned demons again and try not to die this time!"
[Acknowledged.]
Before she could say wait, the void pulsed—then exploded into brilliance. The whiteness surged outward, swallowing her whole. For a heartbeat, her body felt like it was dissolving into starlight.
Then everything went black.
_____
When Zhao Lian opened her eyes again, the whiteness was gone.
The hum of life had returned.
Music. Laughter. The rustle of silk and the faint aroma of incense and roasted chestnuts filled the air. It was warm, bright—too bright.
Where…?
Her vision steadied, and she found herself not in the void, nor her home, but seated cross-legged on a raised wooden platform. A guqin rested gracefully across her lap, its strings shimmering like threads of moonlight.
Wait.
Wait… what?
"This… didn't happen last time," she muttered under her breath, scanning the colorful pavilions and red lanterns that hung like floating stars above the courtyard. The festival of talent was in full bloom—again.
The air was filled with chatter, laughter, and the occasional chime of bells from dancers passing by. Disciples from various sects mingled freely, their robes bright as flowers in the early sun. Somewhere, a hawker called out, selling sweet wine. Somewhere else, a storyteller spun tales of ancient heroes.
It was too vivid to be a dream.
Too perfect to be real.
"Damn you, system," she hissed softly, gripping her guqin. "You changed the plot."
The murmurs around her quieted as people noticed her. Heads turned. Fingers pointed.
"Isn't that her?"
"The girl who played the Longing Dance at the market square?"
"I heard she once played the Dragon Melody before the Supreme Leaders at the Dragon Festival." the cultivators whispered.
Zhao Lian plastered on a polite smile. Her heart, however, was hammering like a drum. "Well," she said with mock cheer, "I'd be glad if someone tells me what you all wish to hear from my guqin today."
A voice from the crowd called out, "Your Longing Dance! It was unforgettable."
She almost sighed in relief. At least they're not asking me to fight demons yet.
"Very well," she said, inclining her head with feigned grace.
She straightened her back, took a deep breath, and let her fingers fall onto the guqin strings. The first note shimmered—clear and haunting. The melody began to flow, rippling through the courtyard like wind brushing across a still lake.
The Longing Dance was a piece of emotion more than skill. It spoke of yearning—of something unreachable yet forever desired. The sound was sorrowful yet beautiful, like a memory that refused to fade.
Her fingers danced across the strings, coaxing each note to life. The spectators were silent now—entranced. Even the breeze seemed to pause, listening.
And Zhao Lian, for a fleeting moment, forgot everything—the system, the void, her deaths, even her anger. She was simply there, lost within her own creation.
When the last note trembled into silence, no one moved. The echo of her melody still lingered in their minds like the aftertaste of sweet tea.
Then came the applause—soft at first, then louder, swelling until it filled the place.
"Marvelous!"
"Truly divine!"
"I felt as though the heavens wept!"
And above them all, one pair of hands clapped harder, louder, prouder.
"Mei-mei!" cried Zhao Mei, radiant in her violet and pink robes, her face glowing with pride. "That was incredible!"
Zhao Lian's smile wavered but held. Seeing Mei—her Mei—so proud sent a twinge through her heart. If only the real Mei could have clapped like that once, she thought.
But in the shadows behind the silken curtains, another woman sat—her expression twisted in something darker.
Zhao Yue.
Her fan, half-open, trembled as her fingers tightened around it. She had thought the market square was a coincidence—her sister's sudden popularity, a stroke of luck. But this? No. This was humiliation disguised as art.
She forced a smile as others praised Zhao Lian, but her nails bit into her palm until a thin line of blood appeared. You think you can outshine me again? she thought bitterly. You'll learn that even the brightest flame can be snuffed out.
And as the laughter and praise rose around them, Zhao Lian's eyes swept the crowd—feeling the tension shift like the scent of rain before a storm.
Something was coming.
She didn't know how she knew. She just… felt it.
And the system—silent all this while—remained stubbornly still.
_____
The applause had barely faded when the ground began to tremble.
At first, it was subtle—a low vibration beneath the platform, a faint clatter of porcelain cups. Then, it deepened. A sound like distant thunder rolled through the festival grounds.
The crowd stirred uneasily.
"Was that…?"
"An earthquake?"
Before anyone could finish their question, the sky darkened—not like twilight, but as if someone had smeared ink across the heavens. Lanterns flickered, flames bending sideways as the air turned heavy.
Then came the roar.
It wasn't human. It wasn't even beastly. It was the sound of rage made flesh—a guttural, echoing bellow that made the air itself shudder.
And then, through the ruptured earth, they came.
Three horned demons—massive, twisted, and furious. Their skin was a living mosaic of colors that no mortal painter would dare mix—red, violet, ash-gray, and streaks of gold that pulsed like veins of molten metal. One had tusks like curved daggers; the other's eyes burned like coals in a dying fire.
The festival erupted into panic.
Tables overturned. Disciples screamed. Cultivators rushed to draw their blades, but even the bravest faltered as the scent of sulfur and iron thickened the air.
Zhao Lian froze where she stood, guqin half-raised in trembling hands.
This isn't happening. Not again.
She had died once already. Crushed under the swing of that monstrous hammer.
Not again.
She swallowed, her mind racing. "System," she hissed under her breath, her voice shaking, "this wasn't part of the script. You're changing things again!"
[No changes have been made.]
"Oh, you liar."
The taller demon sneered, dragging his hammer—a grotesque thing of stone and bone—against the tiles. Sparks flew.
"There is no fun," the demon growled, voice guttural, "without ruin."
His hammer rose. Then fell.
The impact shattered the corner wall, sending a storm of debris flying. Screams filled the air. Smoke poured out in black curls. When the dust cleared, half the festival stage lay in ruins.
Zhao Lian ducked behind a broken pillar, clutching her guqin to her chest. Her heart was racing so fast it hurt.
"This is not how it's supposed to be," she whispered, eyes darting. "System, please stop changing the plots! I'll change, I'll fight my battles—just stop, okay?"
But the system remained silent.
Her eyes burned with frustration. Why me? Why does every universe I touch turn into chaos?
Then, a deep, mocking voice echoed above the wreckage.
"Hahaha… humans, cultivators, all the same—fragile and foolish."
The demon's laughter rolled like thunder. Even the Supreme Leaders, Huang and Zhang, stood frozen, their brows creased with grim disbelief.
And then—cutting through the horror—came a sound that no one expected.
A chuckle.
Soft at first. Then louder. Almost musical.
Heads turned. The demons blinked.
There, standing amid dust and broken tiles, was Zhao Lian—one hand on her hip, the other still holding her guqin. Her smile was crooked, eyes bright with something between terror and insanity.
Oh gods. Did I just laugh?
Her stomach dropped. Her own mind screamed at her: Why would you do that?
The red-skinned demon tilted his head, nostrils flaring. "Did you just… laugh?"
Zhao Lian froze. Then, to her utter horror, she heard herself say:
"I—I'm sorry. It's not supposed to be funny… but don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"
A dead silence followed.
"You dare talk back to me?"
"What are you going to do, huh? Kill me? You just smashed a wall because you weren't invited to the fun! If you'd been calmer, maybe there'd still be a seat left for you."
Her voice cracked halfway through, but she forced the words out, lips trembling.
Internally, she screamed at herself: Go on, Zhao Lian. Keep talking. Dig your grave deeper. You'll respawn anyway. You've got 9999 chances left, right?
The demon's skin darkened, glowing veins flaring crimson. His roar shook the heavens.
"You insolent worm!"
The hammer rose—again. The air around it distorted from sheer force. The ground beneath her cracked.
"Oh gods, I'm dead," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut.
Then—something grabbed her.
A blur of motion, faster than her mind could register. The scent of metal, smoke, and something faintly herbal filled her senses.
A voice, deep and cold, spoke beside her ear. "I've had enough."
And then—impact.
A spear struck the ground where the demon stood. Fire erupted, not wild and uncontrolled, but precise—flowing like liquid flame. The heat surged outward in a perfect circle. The demon's roar turned to a strangled cry, cut short as his body dissolved into ash and sparks.
The light dimmed. The air stilled.
And when Zhao Lian finally dared to open her eyes, the chaos was gone. The sky was blue again—too blue. The scent of burning lingered faintly, sharp and metallic.
She turned.
He stood beside her.
Tall. Cloaked in dark robes that shimmered faintly with gold runes. A glove covered his right hand—the same she had seen that night at the festival at night.
"You are," he said, voice low and controlled, "quite carelessly bold."
Zhao Lian swallowed hard, forcing a nervous laugh. "Careless? Maybe. Bold? Not intentionally."
He turned to her then, and though she couldn't see his full face beneath the hood, she felt the weight of his gaze—steady, unreadable, cold.
And for the first time since entering the game, Zhao Lian felt something unfamiliar tighten in her chest.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Something else entirely.
A/N:
Just to clear things.
In the modern world, Zhao Lian's elder sister is Zhao Mei.
In the game world, Mei of modern is Yue in the game and Mei in the game, is entirely a different person.
Hope it's cleared. I case I make this mistake, again, I've clearified it.
Thanks for reading.