Leaning casually beside an old stone tablet was a young man in plain robes—
but somehow managing to look like a fallen immortal slumming it for aesthetic reasons.
Black hair like ink.
Eyes deep, melancholic, carrying emotional damage worth at least three novels.
Aura steady, cold, and sharp—like a sword sheathed inside silk.
Every Outer disciple stole glances at him.
Girls whispered with starry eyes.
Boys swallowed their pride and pretended not to feel inferior.
Even the spirit lamps dimmed, as if paying tribute.
Of course he looked divine.
Of course fate pampered him.
Ye Qingfeng.
The official protagonist of this messed-up world.
Xuanyan took his food—ignoring the fact that it looked like steamed regret—and marched over to Ye Qingfeng's table with the courage of a man who wanted to make plot armor his friend instead of his executioner.
He smiled brightly, expression open and harmless—almost disarmingly so.
"Junior Brother," he said casually, already pulling out the chair, "do you mind if I sit here? You must be one of the new disciples who joined the sect a few days ago."
The reaction was instant.
The moment he spoke, it was as if someone had tossed a spark into dry grass.
Whispers rippled across the cafeteria, spreading faster than spiritual qi during a breakthrough.
"Wait—who's that?"
"Another handsome one?! Since when did outer sects start mass-producing faces like this?"
"He's even prettier than Ye Qingfeng…"
"Is he single?"
"Does he already have a Dao partner?"
"I swear he looks expensive—like he belongs in the Inner Sect just by existing."
Meanwhile, several men tightened their grip on their chopsticks, spiritual qi trembling faintly with barely restrained resentment.
He hid a smirk.
His charm stat had doubled after the breakthrough, and the effect was immediate—brutal, effortless, and deeply satisfying. No techniques, no effort. Just existence doing the work for him.
Across the table, Ye Qingfeng noticed it too.
His expression shifted—only slightly.
Not hostility.
Not anger.
Just a thin layer of irritation settling in, the subtle discomfort of someone realizing that the light wasn't centered on him anymore.
For a brief moment, his fingers paused against the bowl.
Then he exhaled, slow and controlled, as if smoothing something down inside his chest.
"Sure, Senior Brother," Ye Qingfeng said calmly.
Xuanyan took the seat without hesitation, posture relaxed, mood clearly elevated—as though the cafeteria hadn't just tilted its attention axis around him.
Entirely pleased.
"I would be grateful if you could teach me more about this sect," he asked calmly.
At that moment, a soft whisper echoed inside his mind—cold, ancient, powerful.
His master—the rank 8 remnant soul assigned to ruin the protagonist's destiny.
[His luck is very high. Befriend him. It will help in finding and seizing more treasures ]
Xuanyan's irritation instantly transformed into pure greed.
Ah.
So destiny himself was within arm's reach.
His internal laugh was morally questionable.
Ye Qingfeng narrowed his eyes, sensing something.
"You…"
His voice was low and steady.
"You feel… familiar."
Xuanyan internally screamed.
NO I DON'T.
I AM A STRANGER.
A NOBODY.
PLEASE DO NOT FLAG ME AS A SIDE CHARACTER OF IMPORTANCE.
But he maintained a polite smile.
"Junior Brother Ye—"
Ye Qingfeng raised a hand.
"You look like someone who understands hardship."
Xuanyan blinked.
Hardship?
Brother, I transmigrated two days ago. My biggest hardship was losing Wi-Fi.
But Ye Qingfeng's voice deepened.
"…We are the same."
SAME WHAT?
SAME HOW??
DO NOT PUT ME IN YOUR TRAGIC HYPOCRITE BACK STORY.
He stepped closer—
Xuanyan instinctively stepped back.
"You fear me?" Ye Qingfeng asked calmly.
YES, I FEAR YOU.
ANY SANE HUMAN FEARS A PROTAGONIST.
"No," Xuanyan said with a straight face. "Just surprised."
Ye Qingfeng stared deeply into him, eyes glowing faintly with protagonist vision.
"You have no malice," he said at last. "I can feel it."
A glowing panel suddenly appeared before Xuanyan.
Ye Qingfeng's Impression: +10
Current Status: Mild Interest
He felt his soul wilt.
MILD. INTEREST.INTEREST IN WHAT?? PLOTTING MY DEATH or is he gay or something??
"System," he whispered internally, "reward?"
System: (^_^)
"Damn."
Xuanyan let the moment stretch for a breath longer before finally asking, his tone casual, almost idle:
"Junior Brother, what are your plans for today?"
Ye Qingfeng didn't answer immediately.
His gaze drifted past the crowded cafeteria, past the noisy disciples and clattering bowls, and settled naturally on the towering structure visible through the open doors—the Martial Pavilion.
"I'm choosing my first martial technique," he said.
Xuanyan nearly laughed.
Of course he was.
The most ordinary choice on the surface. The safest possible move. Something every disciple did, something no one questioned. And behind that harmless decision? . After all he had to hide his real heaven-defying technique later until the plot demanded it.
Classic.
Ye Qingfeng stood up smoothly, movements unhurried, as though the entire world operated at his pace. He straightened his robes, then gave Xuanyan a proper bow—respectful, sincere, flawless.
"Senior Brother," he said calmly, "I am busy today. We shall meet again soon."
He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought:
"With a gift."
"A-ah, no need for that," Xuanyan replied quickly."You can meet me anytime."
Ye Qingfeng studied him for a brief moment, eyes unreadable.
Then he nodded once.
"As you wish."
Once Ye Qingfeng left, Xuanyan exhaled.
"He's so weird… wasn't he supposed to be more reserved in the Novel?"
"System," he asked, "am I getting targeted by heaven for changing the plot?"
[Host]
— Heavens do not punish you for stealing opportunities. If he cannot secure them, he is unworthy.
— However, treasures that are fated in his destiny, which are important to his growth, such as rank 8 souls, will cause karmic backlash.
— And about Female lead when you entangled with them your fate and Karma also mixed with their , heven directly not interfere but he manipulate your surrounding to make sure to eliminate you or use you .
Xuanyan muttered, "Perfect. Beautiful. Wonderful. Death flags everywhere."
Before he could think further—
"OI! Look who crawled out of Stage Two hell!"
A booming voice echoed.
The shout thundered across the cafeteria, cutting through conversation like a hammer to glass.
Xuanyan sighed internally.
Slowly, he turned his head.
Standing there was Lin Beifang—a towering, muscle-packed outer-sect disciple who seemed allergic to shirts and deeply committed to being a public nuisance. His physique radiated brute strength, his qi thick and aggressive, his grin wide with the joy of someone who enjoyed punching down.
And more importantly—
He was indirectly responsible for the original Xuanyan's death.
Xuanyan's lips curved faintly.
Wonderful .
But before Xuanyan could respond, a soft voice cut in—gentle, calm, yet carrying an authority that made even the noise of the cafeteria dip for a heartbeat.
"Senior Brother Lin," the voice said lightly, "stop scaring my junior brother."
Xuanyan turned.
And for a moment, the world shifted.
Mei Lingling was walking toward them.
She looked almost absurdly out of place amid the chaos of the cafeteria—petite frame, fox-like eyes curved into a sweet smile that felt just a little too perfect to be harmless. She wore the standard outer-sect uniform, plain and modest, yet somehow it looked tailor-made for her. Not flashy. Not provocative.
Just… dangerous in a quiet way.
She carried herself with a natural grace that didn't come from cultivation alone. It suggested either exceptional talent—
—or the kind of person who could smile while emptying your storage ring and convincing you it was your idea.
Lin Beifang clicked his tongue, clearly displeased, but didn't interrupt.
Lingling's attention shifted fully to Xuanyan.
"Xuanyan," she said warmly, eyes bright. "You look… refreshed."
A faint blush crept onto her cheeks as she tilted her head, studying him a little too closely.
"Did something good happen?"
She was the sister of his only real friend in the sect. Someone he had known for years. Someone who had watched him struggle, stagnate, endure. That familiarity made her presence feel natural—
And somehow more dangerous.
She stepped closer, leaning in just enough that only he could hear her.
"Congratulations on breaking through," she whispered, her tone playful. "Junior brotherrr…"
Xuanyan swallowed.
He wasn't going to lie.
That was hot.
"T-thanks," he replied, forcing a casual tone. "I guess."
He looked at her again—and the strange sense of familiarity hit him full force.
Why did she feel… familiar?
Mesmerizing black eyes. Long, silky hair cascading down her back. Features too balanced, too striking to ignore. Her figure—subtle curves, perfect proportions—was the kind of beauty that didn't scream for attention but quietly dominated it.
Have I seen her in the novel…?
The thought made him tense.
He forced himself to look away.
Lingling, however, moved just a little closer.
Not enough to cross a line.
But enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body—soft, enveloping, intimate in a way that made the fine hairs on his arms rise.
Her scent reached him again, clearer this time.
Not perfume.
Her own spiritual fragrance—cool and smooth, faintly sweet, shaped by years of cultivating a Yin-rich manual. It wasn't something you smelled so much as felt, brushing directly against the senses.
Xuanyan had to steady his breathing.
She noticed.
Her eyes flicked to his lips for the briefest instant—so fast it could've been accidental. But it wasn't. Her lashes lowered slightly afterward, her gaze softening, gaining a quiet, smoldering depth that made it difficult to look away.
For half a heartbeat, the world around them faded.