In the dim glow of fluorescent lights, Alex Chen slumped over his keyboard, his fingers frozen mid-type on a spreadsheet that blurred before his eyes. The office was a graveyard of empty coffee cups and flickering screens, the only sounds the hum of the AC and the distant clatter of the night janitor. At 28, Alex had climbed the corporate ladder—or rather, clawed his way up it—only to find it led to endless overtime and a soul-crushing void. "Just one more report," he muttered to himself, ignoring the pounding headache and the way his vision swam.
He didn't notice the warning signs: the sharp pain in his chest, the sudden shortness of breath. One moment, he was cursing his boss under his breath; the next, everything went black. No fanfare, no dramatic collapse—just the quiet end of a life spent chasing promotions that never came.
When consciousness returned, it wasn't to the sterile beep of hospital machines or the concerned faces of coworkers. Instead, Alex's eyes fluttered open to a canopy of silk drapes embroidered with serpentine patterns that shimmered like living shadows. The air was thick with the scent of incense—sandalwood and something metallic, like blood mixed with herbs. He blinked, disoriented, his body feeling... different. Heavier, yet strangely invigorated, as if every muscle hummed with untapped energy.
"Where am I?" he whispered, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious room. He sat up abruptly, the soft bedding sliding off him like water. "Is this some kind of dream? Did I pass out at my desk again?"
To test it, he reached up and pinched his cheek—hard. The sting was immediate and sharp, sending a jolt through his nerves. "Ow! Shit, that hurts." He rubbed the spot, frowning. No fading away, no waking up. The pain lingered, real and insistent. "Okay, not a dream. Or... am I really isekai'd? Like in those web novels I binge-read during lunch breaks?"
Heart racing, Alex swung his legs over the edge of the massive bed, his feet touching a cold stone floor inlaid with glowing runes that pulsed faintly like veins. He looked down at himself and froze. Gone were his rumpled office shirt and slacks; in their place was a flowing robe of dark silk, embroidered with silver threads depicting coiling serpents and arcane symbols. The fabric was heavy, luxurious, nothing like the cheap polyester he was used to. Sleeves billowed as he moved, and a jade pendant hung from his neck, warm against his skin.
"This... this is ancient. Like straight out of a xianxia story." He stood, wobbling slightly as if his body was taller, more athletic than before. The room around him confirmed it: Walls of polished black jade, adorned with scrolls depicting fierce battles between cultivators wielding swords of light and beasts of shadow. A bronze incense burner smoked in the corner, and through an arched window, he glimpsed misty peaks floating in the clouds, dotted with pavilions that defied gravity.
Panic bubbled up, but Alex—wait, was that even his name now?—pushed it down. He'd read enough isekai tales to know the drill: Transmigration, new body, probably some overpowered system incoming. But whose body was this? He glanced at a polished mirror across the room, approaching it cautiously. The reflection staring back wasn't his own: Sharp features, long black hair tied in a topknot, eyes like polished obsidian. Handsome, in a villainous way—arrogant smirk lines around the mouth, a scar faint across one cheek.
"Ling Xiao," a voice whispered in his mind, unbidden memories flashing like fragmented dreams. He was Ling Xiao, young master of the Shadow Serpent Sect, a mid-tier villain destined to be cannon fodder for some heavenly chosen hero. Arrogant, scheming, and fated to die horribly in a sect war.
Ling Xiao's name echoed in his mind like a bad echo from a cheap horror flick, and suddenly, a torrent of memories crashed over him—flashes of sneering at disciples, plotting petty revenges in shadowy halls, and yeah, getting his ass handed to him by some glowing hero type in a blaze of righteous qi. He was the classic villain side dish: arrogant young master, check; doomed to be squashed like a bug under the protagonist's boot, double check. Fated to die in a sect war? Triple check with extra tragedy sauce.
Alex—er, Ling Xiao—stumbled back from the mirror, tripping over the edge of a fancy rug that looked like it was woven from actual snake scales. He landed on his butt with a thud that echoed through the chamber, the jade pendant swinging like a pendulum mocking his misfortune. "Fuck," he groaned, rubbing his tailbone. "I only died to die again? Fuck this!" He scrambled up, pacing the room like a caged tiger, his ancient robes swishing dramatically. "First my fucking job—slaving away in that soul-sucking office, dreaming of isekai glory—and now this? Fucking god, or gods, or whatever cosmic prankster is up there! You couldn't transmigrate me as the OP hero with a harem and cheat skills? Nooo, I get to be the disposable villain who gets yeeted in chapter 10!"
He kicked at a nearby stool, sending it clattering across the floor, only for it to bounce back unnaturally, propelled by some invisible qi force. "Ow! Even the furniture's out to get me!" Ling Xiao flopped back onto the bed, laughing hysterically now, the kind of manic cackle that bordered on tears. "Picture this: Me, Alex Chen, spreadsheet warrior extraordinaire, keeling over from overtime stress, and bam—reborn as a guy whose biggest achievement is being a plot device for someone else's glow-up. What next? A system that makes me farm cabbages? Or worse, one that forces me to be the comic relief sidekick?"
As if on cue, just when his laughter started to peter out into exasperated sighs, a translucent screen flickered to life in his vision, glowing with that telltale blue hue of digital destiny.
[Villain System Activated]
[Host: Ling Xiao (Transmigrated Soul: Alex Chen)]
[Mission: Survive your doomed fate by corrupting the chosen ones' paths. First Task: Assess your new realm and prepare for conquest.]
[Reward: Basic Corruption Technique Unlocked]
Ling Xiao stared at the glowing screen, his grin turning predatory despite the earlier meltdown. "Oh, hell yes. Game on—villain style."
But as the words left his mouth, a ridiculous thought bubbled up in his mind, derailing the epic moment like a clown crashing a funeral. Is this my ahh... what those cultivation MCs say after getting it? Like some kind of middle finge— I mean golden finger? He snorted, nearly choking on his own internal monologue. Golden finger, yeah, that's the term. Not middle finger, though honestly, this blue shit might as well be flipping off fate itself. Is it better than my fucking boss? Hell, anything's better than that micromanaging prick who made me pull all-nighters for 'team spirit.' At least this system won't email me performance reviews at 3 AM.
He waved a hand experimentally, trying to dismiss the screen like a pesky app notification. It didn't budge, just hovered there smugly, waiting for him to play along. "Alright, fine," he muttered, sitting up straighter. "Let's see what you've got, you floating cheat code. Assess my new realm? Prepare for conquest? Sounds like a promotion from spreadsheet slave to evil overlord. Sign me up."