Yi Lin forced a smile so wide his cheeks felt like they were about to split.
"Ten golden coins! Just ten! A bargain, really. Look at it shimmer! You know... shimmer is good. Very... spiritual."
The disciple in front of him, a lanky kid with a wispy mustache and patched-up grey robes, squinted at the pink crystal in Yi Lin's outstretched hand.
"It's a rock, Senior Brother Yi," the disciple said, flatly.
"It's not just a rock!" Yi Lin insisted, his voice cracking just a little. "It's a... a spiritual convergence matrix! It hums with, uh... dimensional energy! Can't you feel it?"
The disciple leaned in, then back. "I feel nothing. And you're not my Senior Brother. You're a mortal disciple. You clean the latrines."
Yi Lin's smile twitched.
"A temporary position! Everyone starts somewhere, right? But this crystal—"
"Ten golden coins?" the disciple cut him off, his voice rising in disbelief. "Are you insane? My father could feed our entire village for a year on that! I could buy a real cultivation manual, not the trash the sect gives us, for half that!"
"Damn it, I know the price is high!" Yi Lin muttered under his breath. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to channel the smooth-talking car salesman he used to watch on late-night TV back on Earth.
"Look, Junior Brother... what's your name?"
"Zhang."
"Junior Brother Zhang! A man of your obvious insight can see this isn't for just anyone. This is for a connoisseur. A future immortal! Ten gold is just a stepping stone on your path to greatness, and this crystal is the boat that—"
"I have three copper coins," Zhang interrupted, digging in his pocket and pulling out the pathetic proof.
"And I'm saving them for a meat bun at the market. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go practice my 'Pebble-Pushing Fist' for three hours."
Zhang scoffed, shook his head, and walked away, leaving Yi Lin standing alone in the muddy, run-down training yard of the Broken Blade Sect.
Yi Lin's arm dropped to his side, the 'spiritual convergence matrix' feeling like a lead weight.
"Shit," he whispered, his entire body slumping. "Shit, shit, shit."
He looked at the pink crystal. It was perfectly smooth, eight-sided, and pulsed with a soft, internal light that only he seemed to be able to see.
It had been six days. Six agonizing days since he'd woken up in this body, in this world, after a particularly unfortunate encounter with a bowl of "Extra Spicy Death" instant noodles back in his tiny Shanghai apartment.
One minute he was a 26-year-old graphic designer cursing his client, the next he was a 16-year-old latrine-cleaner named Yi Lin in a sect so poor it was literally named "Broken Blade."
And, of course, there was the System.
A blue, translucent screen had popped up in his vision right after his existential crisis.
[Welcome, Host! The Dimensional Slime Rancher System is bound!]
[Congratulations! You have been given a new life and a new, exciting purpose!]
Yi Lin had been momentarily thrilled. A system! Just like in the web novels he binged! He was going to be a invincible!
Then the follow-up message came.
[Newbie Mission: First Sale!]
[Item: Pink Slime Crystal (Standard)]
[Description: A crystallized byproduct of a happy Pink Slime. It's pretty.]
[Price: 10 Golden Coins (Non-negotiable)]
[Time Limit: 7 Days]
[Failure Penalty: Soul Annihilation.]
Yi Lin had stared at that last line until his eyes burned.
"Soul... Annihilation?" he had squeaked at the empty air.
The System, in its infinite helpfulness, had remained silent.
And now, six days later, he was on attempt number 432.
He'd tried to sell the crystal to every living thing in the Broken Blade Sect. He'd tried the outer disciples, the inner disciples (who were just outer disciples with cleaner clothes), the cooks, the janitors, and even the Sect's only elder, who was so old Yi Lin was pretty sure he was just a corpse propped up in a chair.
Nobody had ten golden coins. Hell, Yi Lin was willing to bet the entire sect's treasury didn't have ten golden coins.
And the clock was ticking.
A faint, chiming sound echoed in his head.
A new message appeared in his vision, floating over the muddy yard and the pathetic disciples half-heartedly punching logs.
[Warning! 23 hours, 59 minutes, 50 seconds remaining until Soul Annihilation.]
"FUCK!" Yi Lin roared, finally snapping.
Every disciple in the yard stopped and stared. Even the ones who were clearly asleep on their feet.
Yi Lin's face burned red. He was roaring in pure, unadulterated terror.
He didn't want to be annihilated! He'd just gotten here! He hadn't even had a decent meal yet, just congee and pickled vegetables!
"He's finally lost it," he heard someone whisper.
"Cleaning the latrines will do that to you," another added, with an air of profound wisdom.
Yi Lin ignored them. He was hyperventilating. 24 hours. He had 24 hours to sell an ornamental rock for the price of a small farm to a bunch of broke-ass cultivators-in-training.
This was impossible. The System had set him up to fail.
His entire new life was a punchline written by a higher power with a sick sense of humor.
He was going to die. Again. But this time, for good.
He slid down the side of a nearby shed, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in his arms.
The pink crystal felt cold in his palm. Maybe he could just throw it? Or... or eat it?
[Warning: Destruction of mission item will result in immediate Soul Annihilation.]
"I hate you," Yi Lin whimpered at the screen.
He sat there for what felt like an hour, wallowing in his despair, as the timer mercilessly ticked down. He was out of options. He'd exhausted every possible buyer. Unless... unless the Sect Master himself came strolling out and decided he really needed a new paperweight?
Fat chance. The Sect Master was supposedly in "secluded cultivation," which Yi Lin figured was just code for "hiding from his creditors."
"What," a deep voice rumbled, "is all this commotion?"
Yi Lin flinched.
The training yard had gone silent. He looked up, his heart sinking. Oh, great. Just what he needed.
Standing in the center of the yard was a tall, imposing man in his late forties, with a severe face and robes that were... well, they were just as patched as everyone else's, but at least they were a respectable dark blue.
Sect Master Chen.
The man who was, in theory, in charge of this whole dump. He wasn't in secluded cultivation, after all. He was just standing there, frowning like he'd swallowed a lemon.
All the disciples immediately bowed, full ninety-degree waist-bends.
"Greetings, Sect Master!"
"Greetings," Yi Lin mumbled, giving a half-hearted bow from his sitting position by the shed. He was going to be soul-goo in 24 hours. Respect was a luxury he could no longer afford.
The Sect Master's gaze swept the yard, his frown deepening. "This is the Broken Blade Sect! Not a fish market! Why was I, from my office, forced to listen to a mortal disciple screaming obscenities?"
Every disciple's head swiveled to point directly at Yi Lin.
Yi Lin scrambled to his feet, dusting off his pants.
"Sect Master! Apologies! I, uh... I was just... practicing!"
"Practicing?" The Sect Master raised an eyebrow. "PractGicing what? 'The Ancestral Howl of Utter Despair'?"
A few disciples snickered.
"No! I was practicing... my sales pitch!" Yi Lin said, his brain latching onto the first available excuse.
"Sales pitch?" The Sect Master looked... confused. Not angry, just genuinely baffled.
Yi Lin's heart, which had been in his stomach, suddenly gave a wild leap. Wait. Wait a minute.
This was it. This was the last-ditch, hail-mary, bottom-of-the-ninth-inning, one-in-a-million chance.
It was stupid. It was insane. It was definitely not going to work.
But what other choice did he have?
He took a step forward, his hand shaking. He held up the crystal, which seemed to glow just a little brighter in the afternoon sun, as if it knew this was its big moment.
"Sect Master!" Yi Lin announced, his voice suddenly full of a desperate, quavering confidence. "This disciple wasn't screaming. He was... overcome! Overcome by the sheer, magnificent value of this one-of-a-kind treasure!"
The Sect Master blinked.
"Treasure?" He looked at the disciples. "This latrine-boy has a treasure?"
"He says it's ten golden coins!" that little bastard Zhang piped up from the crowd.
The snickering stopped. The entire yard went dead quiet.
Ten golden coins.
The Sect Master's eyes, which had been bored and annoyed, suddenly sharpened.
He locked his gaze onto the small, mortal disciple. A mortal disciple... claiming to have an item worth more than the entire sect's annual budget.
"Ten... golden... coins?" the Sect Master repeated, his voice dangerously low.
Yi Lin swallowed, his throat as dry as sandpaper. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead.
The Sect Master wasn't looking at him like he was crazy anymore. He was looking at him with a frightening, intense curiosity.
[23 hours, 52 minutes, 10 seconds remaining...]
"Y-yes, Sect Master," Yi Lin stammered, holding the crystal high. "Ten golden coins. A... a bargain, really."