In the sterile, white silence of Madong Government Hospital in Shandao, China, a legend was fading. Qin Du, the celebrated author of Frost and Fire—the world's fourth most popular novel—lay in a bed that felt more like a tomb. Despite the wealth accumulating in his bank accounts, his eyes held only the hollow reflection of a man who had conquered the world of words but lost the battle for his own soul.
As his breath grew shallow, a bitter thought flickered in his mind: "Why didn't I have a System? Why wasn't I the protagonist of a story worth living?"
The doctors stood ready with defibrillators and experimental drugs, their faces masks of professional urgency. But Qin Du had raised a trembling hand, signaling them to stop. He was tired. He had been tired since the age of eight when his mother passed away, and even more so two years later when his father took his own life. For fifty years, he had lived in a gray world, finding color only in the martial arts and strange creatures he dreamt of. Frost and Fire had been born from a singular, vivid dream of a vast cultivation world—a dream that made him a god in the eyes of readers, yet left him a beggar for purpose.
A sudden, supernatural chill swept through the room. The heart monitor flatlined.
The Void and the Invitation
Qin Du expected nothingness. Instead, he found himself standing in an infinite, velvety darkness. Out of the gloom stepped an elderly man, impeccably dressed in a sharp, navy-blue three-piece suit. His presence was both calming and terrifyingly absolute.
"Greetings, Qin Du," the old man said, his voice echoing as if from every direction. "I am Wuying."
Qin Du blinked, his spectral form shivering. "Am I... dead?"
"You are transitioned," Wuying replied with a thin smile. "Because of your soul's unique resonance with world-building, you have been selected to become a laborer in the Land of Systems. To be precise, you are no longer a human. You are now a System. Your purpose is to select a host from any world, nurture them, and mold them into a legend. Do you accept this mantle?"
Qin Du's mind raced. To not just write the story, but to be the mechanism of fate? "I accept," he whispered, then louder, "I accept!"
The System's Sanctum
In the blink of an eye, the darkness shattered into a modern, compact apartment. It was a paradox of comfort and technology: a soft bed, a stocked refrigerator, a functional desk, and a high-end computer setup.
A glowing translucent screen floated before his eyes:
User Name: Qin Du
Category: System (Rank: Novice)
Currency: 100 Credits
Qin Du frowned, touching the floating text. "What are these credits for?"
Wuying appeared momentarily in the doorway of the room. "Those are your lifeblood, Qin Du. You use them to purchase rewards, hidden talents, or life-saving interventions for the Hero you choose. Think of it as investing. If your Hero grows strong, you earn more. If they die... well, let's just say you don't want to go back to the darkness."
Wuying gestured toward the computer. "Open it. Your new life begins with a click."
The Multi-World Interface
Qin Du sat at the desk and pressed the power button. The monitor flickered to life, displaying a custom OS. There were several icons, but one stood out: [World Directory].
He clicked it, and a cascade of data flowed across the screen. Thousands of worlds—some shrouded in mist, others burning with magical fire—were listed. Each world contained thousands of potential "Hosts." He could see orphans in back alleys, discarded young masters in fallen clans, and even commoners with hidden lineages.
Qin Du's fingers hovered over the mouse. As a writer, he knew that the beginning was the most important part of any journey. He wasn't just looking for a pawn; he was looking for his masterpiece.