Longyuan Continent.
Tianyao Empire.
Nanlin Prefecture, Skybridge City.
Li Clan Manor, back courtyard.
"YOU SCAMMING DOG, GET THE HELL OUT HERE!"
A sudden roar tore through the silent courtyard like a blade. On the narrow wooden bed inside the cramped side-room, a young man jolted upright, chest heaving with sweat pouring down his temples as if he'd just ran a marathon.
His eyes were bloodshot and his lips trembled with doubt and fear.
"Two months to break through to the Innate Gate… two months?!"
His voice cracked halfway, turning hoarse and feral, like he wanted to bite somebody.
"Why don't you just write 'kill yourself ' on my forehead and be done with it?!"
He slapped his own face once, hard, as if trying to knock a dream loose. The slap echoed slightly, but the room around him didn't change.
A cracked clay lamp sat on a crooked table. There was half-torn window paper in the window pane. Two sets of patched quilts that smelled like old medicine and fresh earth. A chipped washbasin to the side.
This was the kind of place nobles would give to a servant of very little importance. It was just a step above being a poor commoner.
He froze.
"…Huh?"
The young man stared at the surroundings like they were a prank, then looked down at his hands. They were slender, callused at the finger, not the soft hands of the shut-in he remembered.
He turned his palm over, then squeezed his fist until the knuckles whitened.
What was going on? This wasn't his body. And this sure as hell wasn't his room.
He swung his legs off the bed and nearly stumbled. Even his limbs were no longer familiar, his gait was subtly different, like wearing someone else's shoes. One that seemed insubstantial, but was quite obvious to the young man.
The words spilled out before he could stop them.
"Skybridge City… Li Manor… my—"
He choked on the last word.
'My house?'
"That's not right." His mouth went dry. "I was… I was literally grinding a mission on Monster Hunter. I… I killed that dark-gold boss after thirty-seven wipes and—"
His breath caught before his hands flew to the sides of his head. A migraine suddenly came.
Then it happened.
A flood of memories followed the migraine. Not one memory. Not two. But three completely separate memories of three different lives.
They crashed into his mind like three rivers colliding, violent and cold and relentless as they rushed into his soul.
One was a water-blue planet called Earth, full of neon screens and cheap ramen and endless nights. He remembered being the kind of guy who could talk about games and novels for hours but couldn't talk to woman without feeling like his throat was locked. He remembered chasing dopamine like it was a job.
Another was a place that stank of blood and iron. Blackblade Wastes. It was a place where the sky was always the color of bruises and the strong ate the weak with their sharp smiles still on. He remembered moving like a shadow, killing without blinking, collecting bounties, living like a knife.
And the last…
The last was a young master of Skybridge City. A genius that had a name that used to make people aspire to be him.
Li Shaobai.
He staggered, gripping the bedframe as the world tilted on its axis.
"Who… am I?" he whispered.
There was no answer. The memories continued to play in fragments and voices.
"Seventeen and already opened the Innate Gate—truly worthy of being Skybridge City's number one genius."
"Li Shaobai—Li Clan's pride. Patriarch Li Canghai can finally hold his head high."
"Shaobai and City Lord Qiao's daughter… Qiao Yuelan. A perfect match."
"Then he got crippled."
"He Zeming from the He Clan beat him in one move. One."
"Qiao Yuelan went to Tianxuan Academy with He Zeming, while Li Shaobai became a joke."
"His qi-sea was shattered at the Fragrant Spring House. Some mysterious person did it."
"For two years, he drowned himself in wine and courtesans."
"Yesterday he collapsed in a private room and hasn't woken up."
The young man, called Li Shaobai, stood there, breathing through clenched teeth as if each inhale was scraping his lungs raw.
The memories were clear. And were not like hearing stories but like he was actually living them.
He remembered the taste of cheap wine. The suffocating sweetness of powdered perfume. The humiliation of servants pretending not to stare while whispering behind his back. He remembered the emptiness in his lower abdomen where his cultivation should have been.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
'No, focus. No matter how messed up this is…' he thought himself.
He was alive.
Whatever happened, whatever fused these memories together…
He opened his eyes, gaze sharpening like a blade pulled from a sheath.
"So, that's it," he said slowly, voice steadying, "I crossed over! Well, from now on, I'm Li Shaobai."
He took a breath, only for his expression to twist.
"Also… that mysterious bastard."
The words came out with pure venom.
"If I ever find you, I'll beat you until your ancestors crawl out of the ground to apologize. And even that won't be enough to vent the anger in my heart."
He paused, then suddenly looked down, face going stiff with a new, extremely specific terror.
"…Wait."
He tugged at the trousers he was wearing like it was a life-or-death investigation.
He checked, tugging and prodding inside his trousers.
One second. Two.
Only when blood began to flow downward, hardening did he let out a shaky exhale that sounded like a laugh and a sob at the same time.
"Okay. My little brother is still alive."
He wiped his forehead. "Thank the heavens I'm not a eunuch."
A beat later, he cursed again, quieter this time.
"Bro, why is that where my mind goes first. Priorities I suppose." But the relief didn't last.
Because another fresh and sharp memory surfaced, like a knife tip pressed against his throat.
A dream.
No. It was too vivid to be a dream.
A night ago, Li Shaobai had collapsed drunk, and in the darkness between unconsciousness and death, he'd been dragged to a place with birdsong and endless mist. A valley of pale flowers, sunlight like liquid gold, air so clean it almost felt like a high.
There… he'd met someone.
A man in white robes, calm as snow, eyes like a deep lake. And the worst part? That man's face looked exactly like his. Not "kinda similar." But, EXACTLY like his.
The man had asked him questions he couldn't answer:
"Do you regret? Do you want to live? Do you want to climb back up?"
Then, the man had lifted a finger and pressed it to Li Shaobai's abdomen.
A searing heat spread throughout his whole body. This was the twist of fate.
His shattered qi-sea—his ruined dantian—had been transformed.
And the man had given him two things: A cultivation scripture that appeared directly in his mind. And a small, violet bead that pulsed like a star and was warm and heavy even though it was smaller than a fingernail.
Finally, the man had spoken one last sentence that was gentle, but merciless:
"Break through to the Innate Gate within two months… or your soul will crumble and you will die."
That was why Li Shaobai had screamed when he woke up.
Because that kind of condition wasn't guidance. It was a simply a countdown to his death. How could he reach the Innate Gate within two months when his cultivation was crippled and his qi-sea shattered?
Li Shaobai's fingers curled in anger.
"I need to cultivate," he muttered. "Now. Like right now now."
Then, because the former Earth-him was still in there, he added under his breath:
"And when I'm done? Beauties can line up to get a piece of me. I'm not losing to my past self. What a waste."
He sat cross-legged on the bed, spine straight, palms resting on his knees.
He closed his eyes and began searching his mind. The scripture was there, sitting like a brand in his memory.
Ninefold Star-Devouring Art.
It was supposedly tailored for a physique called the Heaven-Cursed Astral Body.
The name alone felt like a sick joke. Cursed by Heaven? Yeah, good luck trying to pull any cultivation baddies. Li Shaobai opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
"Of course it's cursed," he said flatly. "What else would it be? Heaven's favorite hobby is bullying the weak."
Right now, he couldn't afford to whine. The death clock was ticking and the odds were not in his favor.
He focused inward, searching his meridians.
At first, he felt nothing.
Then, faintly, as if finding warmth in winter, he sensed the ambient spiritual essence in the room. Though it was thin and scattered, it was real.
He guided it, pulling it into his body.
The Ninefold Art was brutal. It didn't "invite" or guide energy like normal techniques did.
Instead, it forcibly dragged it in.
Li Shaobai's pores burned while his meridians felt like they were being scrubbed with piping hot sand.
He grit his teeth and kept enduring. A few breaths later, he finally condensed a wisp of qi.
'Yes.'
He almost laughed while trying to guide it down to his dantian. However, it stopped as if it'd hit a wall.
Li Shaobai's eyes snapped open.
"What?"
He tried again.
The qi slid down, smooth… then slammed into something invisible and scattered. Again. He forced more qi. Same result.
His face darkened.
He clenched his jaw, then sat completely still, focusing deeper, deeper, deeper into he finally sensed it.
A foreign presence.
There was a faint, mysterious aura wrapped around his lower abdomen like a seal.
He didn't feel any pain. Nor was this presence aggressive. Just an absolute wall the qi he cultivated could not get past. No matter how much he forced, it remained the same.
Li Shaobai's heartbeat picked up. He pushed his spiritual sense further. The seal didn't break.
Instead, the "shape" of his dantian… wasn't what it should've been.
His shattered qi-sea was gone.
In its place, hovering in the center like a tiny galaxy was that violet bead.
The thing the white-robed mirror-man gave him in the dream. It pulsed slowly while radiating a strange pressure. Maybe Li Shaobai's senses were playing tricks on him, but it felt alive. And it gave off the faint sense of patience. Like it was waiting.
Li Shaobai stared into nothing, stunned.
"So you replaced my dantian with… a bead?" he lamented. "And now I can't cultivate because of it? I truly have been sentenced to death."
His expression twisted into pure suffering.
"Are you kidding me?!"
He slammed his fist into the mattress.
"Unfair. This is actually unfair. What kind of scam—"
DING!
A crisp, suddenly sound popped inside his head.
Li Shaobai froze so hard it looked like someone hit the pause button on him.
Then a voice that was cold and mechanical, almost mocking, spoke directly into his mind.
[Detected keyword: "unfair" has been used.]
[Unique condition met.]
[The Unfair Leveling System has been activated.]
[Host, do you wish to open your status panel?]
Li Shaobai blinked once. Then Twice.
~GULP~
His throat bobbed up then down as he swallowed the saliva the built up into his mouth from the past few minutes.
"…No way."
He didn't move, afraid the voice would vanish if he breathed wrong.
Then, he slapped his own cheek again. The sound echoed slightly again.
Li Shaobai inhaled sharply. It was painful.
His lips curled in a shit-eating grin, looking like he'd just won the lottery for $1 billion dollars.
"Open it," he shouted, a bit too loud. "Open the panel."
A translucent screen unfolded in front of his eyes, floating in the air like a sheet of ice.
—
[STATUS]
Name: Li Shaobai
Level: 0
Realm: Body Tempering (0/1000)
Vital Qi: 0
Physique: Heaven-Cursed Astral Body (Sealed)
Skills: None
Talents: None
Divine Abilities: None
Unfair Points: 0
Luck: 0
System Note: Your path is trash. The only thing you'll be good for is chicken food.
—
Li Shaobai's brain lit up.
A System. He had a real system. This was just some novel he was reading. Or a coping fantasy.
It was here and inside him.
He stared at the panel, breath shallow, then laughed; quietly at first, then louder, until it filled the tiny room like madness.
"HAHAHAHAHA—"
He grabbed the bedpost and leaned forward, eyes burning.
"So this is what you meant, mirror-bastard. You didn't fix me. You gave me a cheat and told me to swim or drown."
He wiped his face, still laughing.
"Bitch, bet you didn't know that I'm Michael Phelps's cousin!!!"
Then the system screen flickered again.
[COMPREHENSIVE EVALUATION:
The Host is currently weaker than a common wild chicken in this world.
Warning: A random low-tier beast can crush you to death.]
Li Shaobai's laughter cut off so abruptly it sounded like someone started strangling him.
His eye twitched.
"…Excuse me?"
He read it again.
Weaker than a chicken.
He stared at the words until they started to offend him personally.
He whispered, "Bitch… I have a legendary cursed physique and a ninefold art… and you're telling me I'm chicken-tier? F*ck you!"
The panel didn't care. It stayed there, floating in front of him.
Li Shaobai's forehead vein pulsed. He pointed at the floating screen like it was a person.
"Okay. I get it. All great persons start with humble beginnings. But don't disrespect me like that."
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
If he was level zero, he needed EXP. And he needed EXP, he needed a target.
But the courtyard outside was quiet. The manor was asleep and or the people pretended he didn't exist. If he went out looking for beasts right now—
He paused.
A faint skitter-skitter came from the wall. Li Shaobai's eyes immediately shifted toward it.
It came from a corner that had a hole gnawed into the wood.
Something red and ugly crawled out, whiskers twitching, eyes glittering like beads.
A rat.
It was bigger than a normal rat. Nearly the length of his forearm.
'Sh*t, they have New York rats here?' Li Shaobai cursed internally.
Its fur was dark crimson, patchy, like it had been rolling in rust all its life. Its teeth were too long and sharp. It's buckteeth resembling a beaver's more than anything.
It sniffed the air.
Then it turned its head slowly toward him. Li Shaobai stared at it.
The rat stared back.
A moment passed and Li Shaobai's lips curled into a slow grin that looked genuinely dangerous and devious. One that would make evil Sonic jump in fright.
"…Oh," he said softly. "Perfect. Just what I needed."
The rat's nose twitched again, and it took a bold step forward, like it knew his intentions.
Li Shaobai slid off the bed, moving carefully because he could feel how weak this body was, how empty his core felt. Even standing too fast made his head spin slightly.
He scanned the room. There were no weapons in sight.
The old him used to have a fine blade, but that was before he got ruined and thrown into the back courtyard like trash.
His gaze landed on a thick wooden stick propped near the door. It was probably used to poke laundry off the line or scare off dogs. He couldn't remember.
'Good enough I guess.'
He picked it up. The stick was rough, splintered in some places. The weight felt good in his hand.
The rat took another step forward, bold and stupid.
Li Shaobai lifted the stick.
"Listen," he told the rat, completely serious, "I don't know what kind of demon, Master Splinter-fuck rat you are. But you picked the wrong day to exist."
The rat let out a high and grating squeak as it lunged at him.