Lin Feng slumped in his office chair, staring at the flickering screen of his computer. Another late night at the soul-sucking job, crunching numbers for a boss who couldn't tell a spreadsheet from a shopping list. At 25, he felt like he'd aged a decade. "Why did I major in accounting?" he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples. "Should've gone for game design or something fun."
His phone buzzed on the desk. A notification from his favorite web novel app. "New chapter alert: 'Supreme Cultivator Reborn in the City'!" Lin's eyes lit up. He snatched the phone, forgetting the stack of reports due by morning. As he scrolled through the epic tale of qi blasts, harem conquests, and leveling up like a video game, he chuckled. "Man, if only life was like this. I'd transmigrate in a heartbeat. Punch bad guys, summon spirits, get all the girls. Yeah, right."
The clock ticked past midnight. Lin yawned, standing up to head home. He grabbed his jacket and stepped out into the rainy street, still glued to his phone. The story was heating up: the hero was about to summon a celestial dragon. "Come on, don't cliffhanger me now," Lin grumbled, jaywalking across the empty road without looking up.
Headlights blinded him. A truck horn blared. Lin's last thought was, "Truck-kun? Seriously? That's so cliché..."
Blackness.
Then, pain. A throbbing headache, like someone had hammered nails into his skull. Lin groaned, his eyes fluttering open. But something was wrong. Very wrong. The ceiling above him wasn't his crappy apartment's water-stained plaster. It was ornate wood, carved with swirling patterns that looked like dragons chasing clouds. Silk curtains draped around a massive bed, and the air smelled of incense and herbs.
"What the...?" Lin sat up, wincing as his body protested. He looked down at his hands. They were smoother, younger, without the calluses from typing all day. His clothes? Some kind of ancient robe, embroidered with gold threads. "Did I get kidnapped by a cosplay cult?"
Memories flooded in, but they weren't his. Flashes of a different life: a young man named Lin Feng, same name, weirdly enough. This guy was the son of a once-powerful family in a city called Azure Peak. But he'd been a waste, talentless in cultivation, whatever that meant. Rivals had poisoned him at a banquet, leaving him for dead. The family? Declining, enemies circling like vultures.
Lin's head spun. "Transmigration? For real? I died and got isekai'd into a cultivation world?" He laughed, but it came out shaky. "Okay, calm down. This is just like those novels. I probably have a system or a cheat skill. Status? Open menu? Yo, golden finger, where you at?"
Nothing happened. No floating screen, no voice in his head. Just silence, broken by the creak of a door.
A girl entered, maybe 18, with long black hair tied in a bun and wearing a simple green dress. She carried a tray with a steaming bowl. "Young Master! You're awake?" Her eyes widened in shock. "The physicians said the poison was fatal. It's a miracle!"
Lin blinked. Who was she? More memories trickled in: Mei Ling, his loyal maid since childhood. Cute, devoted, and apparently crushing on the original Lin Feng. "Uh, yeah. Miracle. Totally," he stammered, trying to sound natural. "What's in the bowl? Smells good."
"Medicinal soup, to purge the remaining toxins," Mei Ling said, bowing as she set the tray down. Her cheeks flushed. "I'm so relieved, Young Master. The family elders were preparing your funeral. And those snakes from the Zhao Clan... they think you're gone."
Zhao Clan? Right, the rivals who poisoned him. Lin's mind raced. In novels, this was where the revenge arc started. But he felt weak, no superpowers yet. "Thanks, Mei. You're a lifesaver." He smiled, and she blushed harder. Okay, harem potential already? Score.
He sipped the soup, bitter but warming. As he did, a strange sensation built in his chest, like a spark igniting. "What's this?" he whispered. The room seemed to shimmer, and a faint glow appeared in his vision. Words? No, not quite. It was like an instinct, urging him to focus inward.
Before he could explore it, shouts erupted from outside. "Intruders! The Zhao Clan is attacking!"
Mei Ling gasped. "Young Master, stay here! I'll get help!"
But the door burst open. Three burly men in black robes stormed in, swords drawn. The leader sneered. "The trash is still alive? No matter. We'll finish the job."
Lin's heart pounded. No system, no skills, just a bowl of soup. He backed up, mind screaming, "Come on, cheat ability, activate!"
As the assassins lunged, that inner spark exploded. A surge of energy rushed through him, and unconsciously, he thrust his hand forward. "Get away!"
A ethereal light burst from his palm, forming a shadowy figure, like a warrior from mist. It clashed with the attackers, sending one flying.
"What—" the leader roared.
Lin stared in awe. "Did I just... summon something?"
But the figure flickered, unstable. The assassins recovered, charging again. Lin's energy drained fast. "Oh crap, it's not enough!"
As blades descended toward him, the room shook with a deafening roar from outside.