Silver needles of rain pierced the neon haze as Wei Xiao shuffled home from his bookstore shift. The glow of his phone reflected in oily puddles, illuminating the latest chapter of *Reborn as the Immortal Emperor*. His thumb froze mid-scroll.
"Impossible! My Nine Heavens Annihilation Fist has never been defeated! How can a mere Qi Condensation ant—?!"
Wei Xiao's nose wrinkled. "Bullshit," he muttered to his rain-streaked reflection. "The author's just recycling last chapter's—"
**—SCREECH—**
Tires shrieked against wet asphalt. His phone arced through the air, screen still displaying his half-typed comment:
"If your protagonist never struggles, why should readers car—"
**Impact.**
Darkness.
Then—
**VOID**
Wei Xiao floated in starless oblivion until a voice like grinding continents boomed:
"Wei Xiao. Age twenty-four. Cause of death: terminal snark compounded by distracted walking."
Golden text flared before him—a celestial indictment:
**CRIMES AGAINST NARRATIVE**
- 18,247 scathing novel reviews
- 83 trope-deconstructing fanfictions
- The infamous "Deconstructing Xianxia" blog (3 mortal realms' most-read)
"Your sentence," the voice resonated, "is transmigration into the genre you defiled."
Wei Xiao's ghostly form crackled with outrage. "As the protagonist, right?"
"As you wrote in 'Tropes Exposed'..." The voice morphed into a perfect mimicry of his own sarcastic tone: "'True tension requires vulnerability. Remove plot armor, and let's see how 'badass' your hero really is.'"
A portal yawned beneath him, smelling suspiciously of overused tropes.
"Enjoy becoming Cannon Fodder #7,412."