I transmigrated into a cultivation novel and became a cannon-fodder villain who wouldn't survive three chapters.
According to the plot, the male lead, Lin Yuan, would make a dazzling debut at the outer disciple tournament of Qingyun Sect, then conquer Su Qingyue, Ye Qingmei, and Shen Tingxue in turn, gather three Daoist partners, and reach the pinnacle of life.
It had nothing to do with me. I was just a stepping stone. After three chapters, I'd be stabbed through the heart with a sword and die for good.
But I knew the entire plot.
I knew which day and where Lin Yuan would appear, what he would say to make Su Qingyue blush, the perfect angle for drawing his sword when Ye Qingmei was in danger, and exactly what words of comfort to offer Shen Tingxue when she was at her most vulnerable.
So every time, I got there one step ahead of him.
I didn't do it on purpose. I was just passing by.
Su Qingyue is following me around now, clutching my teacup. Ye Qingmei is heading over here. Shen Tingxue's name has already appeared in the letter on my desk.
Lin Yuan stood in an empty room, still clutching the keepsake he had planned to give away. He asked me, “What exactly did you do?”
I didn't do anything.
I just got there before him.
And that crescent-moon mark is appearing on their wrists, one after another.
They don't know what it is. Neither do I.
But I know one thing: the last page of this book tells everyone's fate.
Including mine.
