Consciousness returned in layers.
First: sensation without interpretation. Pressure. Temperature. The ache of existing in a physical form after the weightlessness of void.
Second: breath. Air moving into lungs, out again. The body remembered how, even if the mind was still catching up.
Third: pain. Not the catastrophic pain of being hit by a truck—this was different. Smaller. More specific. A headache behind the eyes. A stiffness in the joints. The particular discomfort of having slept in an unfamiliar position on an unforgiving surface.
Fourth: confusion.
Liang Yu opened his eyes.
Stone ceiling. Rough-hewn, with veins of some dark mineral running through it like cracks in old porcelain. Faint light from somewhere to his left—torchlight, flickering and orange.
He was lying on a pallet of woven straw. Thin blanket beneath him, rough fabric against his skin. The air smelled of dust and herbs and something metallic he couldn't identify.
Not a hospital.
He sat up. Slowly. The body responded, but it felt different—not wrong, exactly, but unfamiliar. Like borrowing someone else's car. The proportions were slightly off. The center of gravity shifted.
He looked down at his hands.
Not his hands.
The same shape, roughly. The same number of fingers. But younger—the skin smoother, the knuckles less prominent, the calluses absent. These hands had never held a coffee cup. Had never typed forty hours a week. Had never done much of anything, by the look of them.
Congratulations.
The voice was inside his head now. Cool. Clinical. With that same edge of amusement from the void.
You have been successfully transmigrated.
Host body: Liang Yu (original deceased). Age: sixteen. Cultivation level: none. Status: outer disciple, Verdant Sky Sect. Cause of original death: poisoning (accidental ingestion of improperly prepared medicinal herbs).
Liang Yu—the new Liang Yu, the one wearing someone else's skin—sat very still.
Poisoned by accident. In a sect of cultivators. Who work with medicinal herbs.
The irony was noted.
System initializing.
A shimmer appeared in his vision. Translucent text, hanging in the air like a notification he couldn't dismiss.
VILLAIN SYSTEM v.1.0
Host: Liang Yu (transmigrant)
Cultivation: None (mortal)
Reputation: Unknown (identity assumed)
Moral Corruption: 0/100 (neutral)
Features unlocked:
Mission interface (basic)
Status display
Basic rewards tracking
Features locked:
Advanced missions (requires Corruption ≥10)
Reputation monitoring (requires established identity)
Consequence prediction (requires Corruption ≥25)
Note: The system observes. The system records. The system rewards. The system does not protect you from your choices.
Liang Yu stared at the text. It remained stubbornly present, refusing to be blinked away.
This is real.
Very perceptive.
I'm in a cultivation novel. I transmigrated into a cultivation novel.
You're in a cultivation world. Whether it's a novel is a matter of perspective. To you, it's reality. To others, it's just... existence. The metaphysical nature of your situation is less urgent than the practical considerations, wouldn't you say?
He wanted to argue. To demand explanations. To wake up from whatever fever dream this was.
Instead, he took a breath. Assessed. The same way he'd assess a spreadsheet with numbers that didn't add up. Step by step.
I'm alive. That's more than I had an hour ago—or whatever passed for an hour in the void. I have a body. I have a location. I have information.
I have a system that wants me to be evil.
Correct. Though "evil" is a matter of perspective. The cultivation world has its own morality. What the system rewards might simply be... pragmatic. Ambitious. Unbound by the sentimental constraints that hold back the weak.
That's a very convenient justification.
Is it? We'll see.
Liang Yu swung his legs off the pallet. The movement felt strange—the body was lighter than his old one, more flexible. Sixteen years old, the system had said. He'd been twenty-six. A decade of difference, encoded in bone and sinew.
The room was small. Stone walls, no windows. A wooden door, closed. A single shelf with a ceramic washbasin and a few folded cloths. No mirror.
He stood. Walked to the door. Pressed his ear against the wood.
Sounds from outside: footsteps, distant voices, something that might have been metal striking metal. The ambient noise of a community going about its business.
You should check your status. Fully.
The interface reappeared at his thought.
HOST STATUS
Name: Liang Yu (assumed)
Age: 16
Cultivation: None
Qi sensitivity: Below average
Meridian quality: Poor (congenital blockages)
Talent: Minimal
Affiliation: Verdant Sky Sect (outer disciple - probationary)
Standing: None (recently recovered from illness)
Resources: None
Debts: None
Physical condition: Recovering from poisoning. Mild weakness. Otherwise functional.
He read it twice.
Below average. Poor. Minimal.
The original Liang Yu was not gifted. His death was not a great loss to the sect.
You're giving me a body with no talent. No cultivation. No resources. In a world where strength determines everything.
I'm giving you a challenge. Talent is a crutch. The heaven's favored children have talent in abundance—and it makes them predictable. They rely on it. They never learn to work around limitations.
You, on the other hand, will have to be clever.
Liang Yu absorbed this. Filed it away. Moved to the next question.
What happens if I refuse a mission?
A pause. The system's amusement flickered.
You can refuse any mission. There is no强制执行—no forced compliance. However...
Refusal carries consequences. Minor missions: reputation penalty. Major missions: corruption penalty reversed (you lose progress). Critical missions: random punishment.
What kind of punishment?
Variable. Sometimes physical. Sometimes social. Sometimes—interesting.
Liang Yu didn't like the emphasis on "interesting."
Show me the current missions.
The interface shifted.
AVAILABLE MISSIONS
Mission 1: Establish Presence
The outer disciples do not know you. You are a ghost in their midst. Change this.
Objective: Make five outer disciples aware of your existence (name, face, basic impression).
Difficulty: Trivial
Risk: None
Reward: Basic cultivation technique (Qi Gathering)
Mission 2: Identify a Mark
Every sect has hidden resentments. Every disciple has weaknesses. Find someone vulnerable.
Objective: Identify one outer disciple with exploitable circumstances (debt, secret, rivalry, etc.)
Difficulty: Easy
Risk: Minimal (observation only)
Reward: Low-grade spirit stone
Mission 3: First Step
The system rewards action. Take one.
Objective: Perform one minor act of manipulation, deception, or sabotage.
Difficulty: Variable
Risk: Variable (depends on method)
Reward: Variable (depends on impact)
Mission 4: The Poisoner (Hidden - requires investigation)
The original Liang Yu's death was not entirely accidental. The herbs were improperly prepared, yes—but someone left them where a curious, hungry disciple might find them.
Objective: Discover the truth
Difficulty: Moderate
Risk: Moderate
Reward: ??? (depends on approach)
Liang Yu stared at the last mission.
Someone killed him. Someone killed the body I'm wearing.
The system does not provide missions without reason.
And you want me to—what? Avenge him? Expose the killer?
I want you to decide what to do with the information. That's the interesting part.
He looked at the door again. At the stone walls. At his young, uncallused hands.
Someone in this sect had poisoned a sixteen-year-old boy. Left him to die. Maybe for a reason. Maybe for no reason at all.
And Liang Yu—the accountant, the coffee-drinker, the man who died with a burned tongue—was now wearing that boy's skin.
First things first.
He selected Mission 1.