The Zhao Manor pulsed with joy that night.
For the first time in months, every lantern along the courtyard walls blazed to life, their red glow shimmering across the polished marble tiles. Silken banners fluttered in the wind, embroidered with gold phoenixes and spiraling clouds. The servants moved in hurried delight, their laughter echoing beneath the sound of drums and chimes.
Zhao Lian and Zhao Mei were both on a high—not from wine, but from triumph.
Mei had passed the second round of the Spirit Healing Exam, a feat that only one out of fifty contestants could achieve. It was cause for celebration, and Zhao Lian—ever the dramatic sister—had demanded a feast to rival the Emperor's.
"Eat! Drink!" she had cried, laughing as she filled Mei's cup to the brim with golden spirit nectar. "You're the star tonight, jie-jie! Let the heavens envy you!"
Zhao Mei's cheeks flushed a faint rose. She tried to speak, but her giggle betrayed her. "mei-mei, stop praising me like that, I might actually start believing it."
"Good," Zhao Lian said, smirking. "You should. For once, stop doubting yourself."
Their laughter mingled with the sound of music. Even the servants smiled; even the garden lanterns seemed brighter that night.
But celebration has a strange way of hiding the scent of danger.
The food—an array of glistening moonlotus stew, steamed spirit fish, and rose-tinted wine—was uncharacteristically rich, almost too fragrant. Somewhere between the noise and the joy, the laughter began to slur, the smiles began to slow, and eyes began to glaze.
One maid stumbled first, her tray crashing to the floor. A manservant gasped, clutching his throat. Then another fell. The music broke into chaos—a note half-played, cut short.
The scent of lotus filled the air, thicker now, bitter at its core.
Zhao Mei blinked, confusion flickering across her face. "Mei-mei… why does the room… spin?"
"Probably because you're drunk," Zhao Lian teased, though her words slurred strangely. "Except… we didn't drink that much, did we?"
Her vision blurred. The edges of the lantern light fractured into shimmering halos. The world tilted, and before she could process what was happening, her hand slipped from the table.
The next thing she knew, they were outside.
No memory of leaving. No memory of opening the gate. Just—outside.
The night air hit their faces like cold silk, and both sisters stumbled through the streets—laughing, crying, shouting, tripping over their own shadows. Their laughter wasn't theirs anymore; it was hollow, echoing like puppets mimicking joy.
They ran through the vendor alleys, knocking over baskets of fruit, spilling jars of glowing honey. Mei twirled once under the moonlight, her eyes unfocused, and Zhao Lian followed, barefoot now, the world a blur of noise and color.
Then—stillness.
Their bodies froze mid-movement, as if someone had pressed pause on a scene. Their chests rose and fell, but their limbs went slack.
The night wind whispered through their hair, carrying the faint scent of incense and spirit blossoms.
Inside their minds, they were screaming.
They were aware—trapped inside their own bodies like ghosts within flesh. Their souls trembled, knowing something was wrong. They could feel the poison coiling through their veins, freezing thought, muting will.
Then, like a remote had pressed play, they began to move again.
Slowly.
Step by step, their bodies obeyed an unseen command.
Their feet carried them out of the marketplace, past the empty roads, past the sleeping fields where fireflies hovered in soft gold clusters. The moon had never looked so large, so indifferent.
And then, before Zhao Lian could even wonder where she was being led, a cliff appeared before them.
It wasn't like any cliff she had ever seen—it glowed faintly, its edge carved from translucent crystal that shimmered with the light of a thousand stars. The air here was thinner, sharper, almost holy. Below, darkness stretched infinitely, speckled with fragments of light that looked like galaxies swirling far below.
If she were still in her right mind, she would have stopped. She would have run. But instead, she stared, eyes glassy, as her body edged closer to the brink.
Behind her, Mei trembled, her steps faltering. Somewhere deep inside her half-frozen mind, something snapped.
"Jie-jie, stop!" Zhao Lian's voice broke through, ragged and scared, her consciousness clawing its way back.
Mei gasped sharply, blinking hard. Her fingers shot out, catching Zhao Lian's wrist just before she could step off the edge. The contact was electric.
Zhao Lian stumbled backward, clutching Mei's arm, panting as though she'd been running for hours. Her vision cleared, and for the first time, she truly saw where she was.
Her eyes widened, reflecting the stars below. "What… what is this place?"
The beauty of it almost hurt to look at. The cliffs glowed with celestial veins, flowing with light like liquid sapphire. The wind that blew past her was neither cold nor warm—it hummed with an ancient resonance, the kind that made her chest tighten.
Her heart thudded. "Is this heaven? Does this game—Up Miss Bratz—actually have a heaven?"
Her system chimed in, its voice calm, detached.
[This is the Cliff of Life and Death.]
Zhao Lian exhaled sharply. "The what?"
[If you jump down, you will die an easy death. Returning to the real world. Your world.]
Her lips parted. "My world?"
For a moment, she almost laughed. Her world? The world that never wanted her, never loved her? The one that left her alone, invisible?
She looked down again. The abyss stretched below—bottomless, peaceful, cruel.
She could jump. She could end this strange, terrifying world. Go home.
But the thought didn't excite her.
Because for the first time in years, even amidst chaos and uncertainty, she had begun to feel alive. She had someone—a sister who looked at her like she mattered. A world that challenged her.
Her heart clenched.
She took a slow step back from the edge. Then another. Then five.
Not because she wasn't afraid of falling.
But because she wasn't ready to leave.
Not yet.
She turned to tell Mei—but her words died on her tongue.
Mei had collapsed to the ground, her body limp, her breathing shallow.
"Mei-mei!" Zhao Lian dropped to her knees, panic shooting through her like ice. She reached out, shaking her sister's shoulders. "Hey, wake up! Please wake up—don't do this to me!"
But the world around them had already begun to fade. The air shimmered, bending like heat over sand.
A dull ache bloomed at the back of Zhao Lian's skull. The edges of her vision blurred again, the stars twisting into spirals. She felt her body grow heavy, her eyelids sink.
"No—wait—"
Her voice was swallowed by light.
And then, like her sister, Zhao Lian fell—unconscious—her hand still clutching Mei's.
The Cliff of Life and Death stood silent once more, its stars burning cold and endless above two motionless forms.
____
Everything moved in a blur.
It came in fives, then tens, before twos — a rhythm that made no sense. Light and shadow merged until, with a sudden blink, Zhao Lian's eyes opened.
The world steadied.
Above her stretched a ceiling — not the plastered kind from her real world, where bulbs hung like tiny moons, nor the elegant crystal glow of a chandelier — but a ceiling of stone veined with pale blue light, pulsing faintly like a sleeping beast's breath.
A chill rolled over her skin.
Her throat tasted of iron.
She blinked again. Once. Twice. Then realization hit.
She was still in that world — the world of the game.
Not dead. Not home. Still here.
For a heartbeat, she simply lay there, trying to recall the blurred ending — the party, the laughter, the poisoned cups. Her mind played flickers of Zhao Mei's bright smile before the darkness swallowed them both. She had thought… maybe she had fallen. Maybe someone had used that chaos to push her off the edge.
Yet, she was still here. Still breathing. Still wearing her ocean-blue hanfu, stained faintly at the hem, her hair tied up in a loose gaoji — that high ponytail style she'd come to favor in this strange world, a symbol of warriors and the free-spirited alike. Stray strands clung to her cheek, damp with cold sweat.
Her voice trembled when she spoke.
"I'm… not dead?"
She turned. And froze.
Beside her, Zhao Mei sat slumped against a pillar, still dressed in her sun-yellow hanfu, the color dulled by shadows. Her hair ribbon hung loose, a single strand glinting like gold against her pale face. But what made Zhao Lian's heart stop — what made her stomach twist — was the rope binding her sister. Not just her, but both of them.
They were tied. Not together, but apart. Tight. Controlled.
Her breath quickened.
"Okay, this is getting weird," she muttered, panic threading through her voice. "Where… where are we?"
The ceiling gave no answer. Only the faint shimmer of blue lines danced across it, forming sigils she didn't understand.
"Jie…" she whispered, voice cracking. "Jie, wake up."
Zhao Mei didn't stir.
"Come on, please." She crawled closer, dragging the ropes with her, ignoring the way they scraped against her wrists.
Nothing.
Her heart raced faster — not the hopeful kind of panic where one believes help is near, but the cold, suffocating kind where no one will come.
And then —
A sound.
It wasn't footsteps. Not the dull rhythm of boots against stone. It was smoother, like something liquid sliding along marble. A faint rushing sound that made her skin crawl.
"Water?" she thought aloud. "Are we… near the ocean?"
Her voice trembled. She scooted closer to Zhao Mei, shaking her again. "Jie, wake up, damn it!"
Still nothing.
It was dark — but the faint glow of her sister's yellow robe helped her see, a small mercy in the oppressive gloom. That robe had always suited her — bright, calm, radiant. Now, it looked almost ghostly.
Zhao Lian tried to pull at the rope binding her, only for pain to slice across her palm.
"Ah!" she hissed, jerking her hand back. Her eyes darted to the cord. It gleamed faintly — like silver wire soaked in frost — and at closer look, it was razor-edged. Fine enough to pierce skin, cruel enough to keep her trapped.
"What the hell is this?" she muttered, eyes widening. "Who uses razor rope to tie someone up?"
She could feel the panic clawing at her throat again, threatening to suffocate her.
But then she remembered — this was a game. This world had rules. And she had a system.
Right. The system.
She could still respawn if she died.
Dying here didn't mean dying for real.
She had one thousand lives — nine hundred and ninety-nine left.
So what if she had to die to escape this? She could come back.
She just needed to be brave enough to do it.
"System," she said, exhaling shakily, "are you there?"
A faint chime answered.
[System provides 24/7 availability. What can I do for you?]
Zhao Lian exhaled in relief. "You should've just said you're still alive. Oh wait—you don't die."
She rolled her eyes, even as her voice wobbled. "Unfair. Really unfair."
"Anyway," she continued, "where the hell is this place?"
[This is the Water Demon's domain.]
She froze.
"The what?"
[Your family must have been targeted by him.]
"What? Why?" Her voice rose, echoing off the cavern walls.
[That is for you to find out.]
Zhao Lian groaned. "Ugh, boring. Always boring. You're like a broken fortune cookie. Can't you just tell me how to end this nightmare?"
[His strength is water. Avoid water at all costs. But—]
"But what?" she snapped.
[That rope is called the Shackles of Qi. That's all I can say.]
And before she could protest, the voice faded — the neon interface dissolving into mist.
"Unbelievable," she muttered. "That damn system of mine…"
The air grew heavier, pressing against her lungs. The faint sound of flowing water thickened — it was closer now, as if it surrounded them.
That was when she heard it.
Footsteps. Not the running kind.
Footsteps!
___
The air changed the moment the figure appeared.
He didn't walk—he materialized, as though the shadows had been waiting for a command to take form. Water droplets dripped from his robe, tracing silver lines across the floor. The scent of river mist and iron filled the air. His eyes glowed faintly, blue and translucent like liquid gemstones that never stayed still.
Zhao Lian froze, breath caught halfway between panic and defiance.
"This lady has strong qi protection to hold on to the poison," the stranger murmured, his tone smooth, detached, almost bored. Then he smiled faintly, the curve of his lips as sharp as a blade. "I guess that's what the Shackles of Qi are for."
"Who are you?" Zhao Lian demanded, her fingers bleeding as she tried to loosen the razor rope that bound her wrists. "What do you want from us?"
The man tilted his head slightly. "Miss, I suggest you stop struggling. That might look like an ordinary rope to humans, but that shackle feeds on qi itself. Every pulse of your spirit strengthens its bite."
His words made her heart skip. Still, she glared up at him. "Cut off that polite act and answer me! Who are you?"
He smiled again, bowing low in mock grace. "Ah… forgive me. I am Ming Fang, though mortals call me the Water Demon of the Seventh River. I find that title poetic."
Zhao Lian's blood turned cold. The Water Demon.
Her mind flickered to the stories—creatures born from corrupted rivers, nourished by despair and the drowned souls of those who sought freedom. Beings that whispered into dreams and dragged the living beneath still waters.
"What do you want from us?" she whispered again.
"You two possess something… rare," he said, eyes shifting toward the unconscious Zhao Mei. "Your sister's body leaks with the fragrance of Spirit Marrow—a healer's essence blessed by the heavens. And you…" His gaze trailed back to Zhao Lian, almost tenderly. "You carry the scent of something I can't place yet, but I will get to know soon"
Zhao Lian's stomach twisted.
"She's dying," Ming Fang said with a faint laugh. "The poison burns through her meridians even as we speak. The Shackles of Qi were meant to slow it down. How thoughtful of fate."
"Elder sister!" Zhao Lian hissed, trying to reach her.
"Calm yourself," Ming Fang said. "The calmer she stays, the longer her flame lingers. Panic, and she dies faster."
Zhao Lian looked up sharply. "Am I supposed to thank you or hate you?"
He chuckled, a low, eerie sound. "Both. Your hate keeps you alive. Your calm keeps her alive. You may choose which one you wish to lose first."
"You're insane!"
He leaned down until their faces were only inches apart. His eyes rippled like waves under the moonlight. "Insanity is merely a reflection of understanding, little one. When you've drowned long enough, you'll see how beautiful silence is."
He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked. Pain flared across her scalp; her vision blurred.
"Let me go!"
"What? You're afraid?" His voice dropped, cold and gleeful. "Should I give you the luxury of fear?"
She bit back the scream, eyes burning. Her chest rose and fell fast, but her spirit refused to bow.
"Good," he whispered. "Stay strong then. You'll need that when she dies."
"What do you want from us?" Zhao Lian rasped, voice shaking. "The Zhao family has never wronged you."
"You're too happy," Ming Fang said suddenly, expression twisting. "Humans who laugh too easily displease me. I've seen too many of you smile at the river's edge—before you sink beneath it."
"You… you're pathetic!" Zhao Lian spat. "Haven't you ever been happy?"
His eyes flashed, and the entire chamber trembled. Water began to rise from the cracks in the floor, rippling upward in serpentine shapes.
"That's none of your concern," he hissed. "You will die because you threaten the awakening of the Grandmaster of Abyssal Depths. I will not let any piece of fate slip free before his return."
"The Grandmaster—?" Zhao Lian tried to remember what the system had said. Something about demons and heavens, about levels… about survival.
She didn't get the chance.
She didn't understand . Even when she tried, she couldn't.
____
The temperature plunged. A pulse of qi rolled through the chamber, bending the very air. And then—
BOOM!
A streak of fire tore through the darkness, smashing into Ming Fang's chest and sending him flying into the stone wall. The impact hissed; steam exploded from the contact between flame and water aura.
From the doorway stepped a man in white armor edged with crimson. His spear shimmered with threads of light, golden and warm. On his fingers, the dark glove sat. Securing his hand.
"You again, Ming Fang."
His voice carried through the smoke, steady and calm.
He walked straight to the two tied figures and snapped the ropes free. Giving Zhao Lian the entity to hold her sister, who had collapsed unconscious on the floor.
Ming Fang coughed, wiping blood from his lips, his form already rippling back into water. "Iron Fist Dao… or should I call you the Gentle Spear now? You always had a flair for dramatic timing."
"I should have finished you the first time," Iron Fist Dao said coldly. "You poison, you corrupt, you drown. Not again."
And with that, he moved.
The floor cracked beneath his step as his Qi surged, golden light spiraling around his limbs like molten armor. His spear thrust forward, forming a line of light so fast that even the shadows screamed as they were torn apart.
Ming Fang's hands spread open. The air filled with moisture, swirling into a wall of oceanic mist. His body dissolved into it, reforming ten paces away.
The demon's hands twisted in a flowing pattern, and waves erupted from the ground, forming massive serpents of water that lunged toward Iron Fist Dao.
His spear flared, breaking into a thousand afterimages as he struck. Each shadow-pierce turned into a comet of fire, colliding with the water serpents mid-air. Steam erupted, filling the chamber in a suffocating mist.
"Too slow," whispered the demon's voice—everywhere and nowhere.
From the mist, hundreds of watery blades shot out, sharp enough to cut through iron. But Iron Fist Dao's form blurred—he had moved again, appearing directly above Ming Fang, descending like thunder.
His spear came down in an arc that split the mist and the earth beneath it. The impact formed a crater, flames spiraling outward in rings. Ming Fang roared, his watery body flashing into solid form, scales glinting with blue light.
For the first time, Zhao Lian saw his true form—a creature neither man nor fish, his skin carved with ancient runes that glowed faintly.
"Foolish human!" Ming Fang roared, his trident manifesting in his hand. "You dare pierce the ocean?"
He slammed the trident down. The entire domain responded—the water beneath the floor burst upward, turning the ground into a storm-tossed sea.
Zhao Lian clung to a pillar, holding Zhao Mei tightly. The roar of energy was deafening. She couldn't tell who was winning—all she could see were flashes of gold and blue colliding, again and again, like two heavens clashing.
Flames met waves. Qi clashed with Qi.
Every strike tore holes through the air, sending shards of light raining like glass.
Then, one final blow—
Iron Fist Dao drove his spear straight through Ming Fang's trident, forcing it downward. Flames spread from his hand, racing along the spear shaft until they engulfed the demon's chest.
Ming Fang screamed, his form flickering.
And just when Iron Fist Dao raised the weapon for the final strike—
"Don't!" Zhao Lian screamed. "Don't kill him—he still needs to tell me how to save my sister!"
The words hung in the air, trembling.
Both men froze. The light flickered uncertainly, and only then did Zhao Lian see what she had feared.
Zhao Mei's body had turned blue—not from the water demon's aura, but from within. The veins under her skin glowed faintly, like rivers of azure light. Her chest still moved—but barely.
And for the first time since she entered this world, Zhao Lian felt a terror she couldn't name.
Her sister—the only person who made this unreal world feel like home—was slipping away.
And no amount of system quests, or respawns, could make that pain unreal.
And her sister, who was the only one that cared, was about to die.
She would kill the demon herself, but the demon must save her no matter what. And, that's was her vow.