At 2:47 a.m., Lu Li died suddenly in his rented apartment. The last thing he saw was the ending of a fanfic: Golden Turtle Island turned into a sea of flames, ten thousand immortals were ground to ashes by heavenly lightning, the Three Xiao sisters were stained with blood in the Yellow River Formation, Tongtian’s Three Flowers were cut away, and he was eternally imprisoned in the Zixiao Palace.
“Who wrote this ending? It’s messed up beyond belief.”
Those were his last words before he died. Then a flash of white light burst open, and he transmigrated into that very book.
Only he had arrived more than three hundred years too early. The Investiture of the Gods had yet to be signed, the Shang Dynasty had only just been established, and the glorious age of the Jie Sect, with ten thousand immortals gathered at its gates, had yet to see that fateful fire. He had become Tongtian’s most doted-on junior fellow disciple: a rogue cultivator boy who couldn’t even shake off the Chan Sect’s outer disciples chasing him with swords.
Luckily, he was bound to the “List Usurper System.” He could see the karmic entries above everyone’s heads, predict what was coming, and rewrite endings. The price was karmic burden: every time he changed an entry, the Heavenly Dao looked at him more closely.
So he played the pig to eat the tiger, while turning cultivation into a set of KPIs: first, cling tightly to his master’s coattails, then bring Yuanshi, Laozi, and Hongjun down from their divine thrones one by one.
He had decided on the first entry he would change the day he transmigrated: the three “certain deaths” above the heads of the Three Xiao sisters would not come to pass. Not one of them.
Until he discovered that the fanfic wasn’t fiction at all. It was a record of the previous cycle of reincarnation, and the System bound to him might well be the last card left to him by countless versions of himself who had died.
