It all felt out of place as I lay there, soaked to the bone, sprawled like driftwood on the shore. Fireworks crackled in the distance, a hollow cheer to greet the gloomy twilight of dawn. They painted the sky with sparks of celebration, as if I’d just reached the flag at the end of the level.

  But there was no triumphant fanfare, no holographic notification congratulating me on a victory. Not even Liang’s drawling voice, ready with a snide remark. There was only me—my broken body, the cold bite of the morning air, and the steady rhythm of a river lapping hungrily at the shore.

  No, not just me. Mei was there too. I could hear her further down the shore, hacking up what sounded like a bucket’s worth of water. If not for her, I’d be another nameless corpse floating downstream.

  Not that I had the strength to lift my head, much less thank her.

  Isn’t this the part where I’m supposed to get some kind of level-up notification? I thought, staring up into a brightening sky. Shouldn’t there be a burst of light, a triumphant chime, and then—bam—I’m as good as new? Everything else about this place had flowed like a game so far. But as I lay there, my ribs screaming, my lungs burning with the last remnants of river water, there was only the crushing reality a bright screen was meant to make you forget.

  How many people had I watched die tonight? How many times had I nearly joined them? My mind struggle to process it all. Maybe it would catch up with me in due time, but I hadn’t even come to terms with my own death yet. Victor Moore’s death, bleeding out in a parking lot.

  As dawn stretched its pale fingers across the horizon, I couldn’t help but wish, with a hollow ache, that this was a game. Because at least in a game, I could trust there was a reason for all of it. At least in a game, it would make sense.

  Another firework cracked in the distance, bright against the soft gray of morning. I couldn’t help but smirk at the absurdity of it all. Myself being here and, well, everything. “Happy Resplendent Harmony Festival,” I said, my voice dry and brittle. “Really drives home the point that the demonic sects are long gone, doesn’t it?”

  The sarcasm in my tone wasn’t meant to carry far, just a scrap of gallows humor to lighten the weight of the night. But I could hear Mei’s coughing go silent. She didn’t laugh. Of course, she didn’t. She’d already pieced it together. The Jiangshi. The slaughtered town. The black-armored soldiers. It all painted a picture too grim to ignore.

  “That’s what they were, weren’t they?” she said quietly. Her voice carried none of my bitterness, only a fragile sort of clarity. “A demonic sect…”

  The name sat on the edge of my tongue, bitter and sharp: Corpse Lotus Sect. But I swallowed it down. Explanations would come later. For now, I just stared up at the sky, listening to my breathing, to the river whispering its secrets along the shore.

  If today truly was the Resplendent Harmony Festival—the day Mei Faolang lost everything—then I had returned to two years before the real beginning of Dao of the Divine.

  Two years. It sounded like so much time when spoken aloud, a wealth of moments to hoard and squander. But for cultivators, it was little more than the blink of an eye, and Liang Feng didn’t even have the foundation for a martial body. Two years was what I’d been given. The question gnawed at me: was it enough? Was I meant to beat the game before then?

  Last night, when everything had been happening all at once—when strange traits and blinking screens had put everything at a distance and adrenaline had been coursing through my veins—I had been eager at the chance. Now, as I’d almost died again, I wasn’t so sure anymore. There was also the larger question begging to be answered, the one that wouldn’t stop scratching at the edges of my mind. Why am I here?

  People don’t just die and wake up in pseudo-games, do they? Games with tutorials that pull you by the nose through seemingly predetermined routes. Routes that seemed to lead me to the worst danger at every turn.

  Even the escape it had innocently offered had pointed me towards the river—right where the black ship waited.

  In a game, the pattern made sense. The player was meant to plow forward through the story. But here, who was pushing me forward?

  The thought made my headache throb harder. I was missing something. Some larger piece of the puzzle still lay out of reach. But before I could chase down the answers to why I was here—or why this cruel game seemed intent on breaking me—there were more immediate concerns to tackle.

  Staying alive topped the list.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  I weakly dug my elbows into the muddy riverbank, the earth cold and unyielding beneath me. The effort was pathetic. My body felt like a lead anchor, dragging through the muck. A lead anchor, unfortunately, still capable of feeling pain.

  Wincing, I let my head fall back onto the ground.

  Yeah, you always were a shitty game, Dao of the Divine.

  Moving on my own wasn’t an option. My body refused to cooperate, and even if it had, I wasn’t sure where I’d go.

  In the original story, Mei had survived the night by nearly getting crushed under a collapsing, burning building. By the time she clawed her way free, dawn had broken, and she’d spent weeks in a feverish flight, desperate to return to the Emei Sect to report what had happened. And all of it—every breath, every step—had ended in tragedy.

  I couldn’t afford that. Neither the weeks lost, the delirium, nor the tragedy. I had to—

  Before I could finish the thought, Mei’s face appeared at the edge of my vision, restless and pale, her dark hair clinging to her cheeks in wet tangles.

  “I can hear someone,” she whispered, her voice tight as she glanced across the riverbank.

  Her words pulled me back, dragging my thoughts out of the endless loop of what-ifs and should-haves.

  “Bad guys?” I croaked, trying to twist my head to look for myself. The attempt sent a fresh wave of weakness crashing over me, and I slumped back, my breath coming shallow and uneven.

  “I... don’t know.” Her uncertainty bled into her voice, and I could hear the strain of it, sharp as a blade against stone.

  I wasn’t thrilled with her answer. And I could tell she wasn’t either.

  Even if I wasn’t too worried about those armored soldiers chasing after us—cliché as it might sound, the Corpse Lotus Sect didn’t operate much in the bright hours of day—that still left us at the mercy of other dangers.

  A stray Jiangshi still shambling along, for instance. Or bandits and scavengers. An entire town had burned through the night, and even now, thick black smoke twisted into the brightening sky behind us. Someone was bound to notice eventually—especially if they were close enough to set off fireworks to celebrate the festival.

  “Here,” I said, my fingers fumbling as I worked the golden hoop free from my ear. The necklace Liang had worn last night was lost somewhere in the chaos, likely sunk to the bottom of the river or buried beneath the wreckage, but even this little piece of gold felt like a bad omen to parade around. “Hide this, and help me to my feet, would you?”

  Mei’s expression flickered, uncertainty tightening her features. “But what if—”

  “What if they’re worse than shambling, flesh-eating monsters?” I cut her off, my voice dry in a way we couldn’t hope to be. I held out the earring toward her, deadpan. “I’ll take my chances. Preferably before one of those corpses floating by gets any bright ideas about moving on its own.”

  Her gaze flicked toward the river, where a broken piece of mast had lodged itself just downstream. It had caught a grim collection of flotsam—splintered wood, scraps of cloth, and bodies.

  Too many bodies.

  They bobbed and turned in the water, disturbingly close. Even if they weren’t going to rise and lurch after us, they were still there. Staring at them made my skin crawl in ways I couldn’t put words to.

  The events of last night were a storm, a nightmare that left no room for clarity. But with the dawn creeping closer, I felt a quiet shift in my mind, a reassessment of sorts. Those were people once.

  And yet, this was neither the time nor the place to grieve, nor to lick my wounds. Survival demanded more from me.

  Perhaps Mei had come to the same realization. Her face hardened with something like resolve, and she grabbed my outstretched hand without another word.

  It was a strange thing.

  The first wave of déjà vu hit me before I even realized it. Something about those men—knelt over a corpse washed up further downstream, their heads rising in unison toward the pillar of smoke curling from the burnt town—was almost picturesque.

  Like a scene pulled from a carefully crafted movie, there to emphasize the weight of their discovery. Or better yet, a cutscene from a game, seamlessly weaving one plotline into another.

  I had seen this moment before. Yet here it was, vivid and sharp, drawn in colors more real than I’d ever imagined. And with it came the unshakable sense of being swept along by something larger than myself, some inexorable tide pulling me toward a rewritten story.

  In the game, this was a pivotal moment: the Wudang Clan discovering the return of the Demonic Sects. A revelation laden with gravity, a turning point for the Jianghu prior to Dao of the Divine. But in the game, Mei hadn’t been here. And Liang Feng certainly hadn’t either.

  The magic of the scene splintered the instant one of the men noticed us. The picturesque quality dissolved like smoke in the wind, and reality returned. A shout went up, though I couldn’t make out the words, and they began running toward us.

  It made sense, I supposed. They were Wudang, one of the Orthodox Sects’ oldest clans, known for their discipline and sense of duty. Of course they’d rush to aid two battered souls staggering along the riverbank.

  Still, a quiet thought nagged at me: had they seen even a fraction of what we’d faced last night, would they have been so quick to lower their guard as we shambled closer?

  “What do you think?” I murmured to Mei, keeping my voice low. “Should I collapse now for dramatic effect, or wait until the timing’s just right?”

  It was meant as a joke, but the truth lingered beneath the humor. The whole scene felt surreal, as if I were still trapped in some prolonged cutscene, the line between game and reality blurred beyond recognition.

  And somewhere deep down, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was still just a piece on a larger board. A pawn moved by hands I couldn’t see.

  Apparently, something agreed that a touch of dramatic effect was in order. Before I could finish the thought, my knees buckled beneath me. The world tilted, colors bleeding into darkness.

  There was no ground beneath me. No air. No sound but a distant, mechanical text echoing in the void:

  [Tutorial Complete]

  [The Resplendent Harmony Massacre: Ending…]

  [Score, Calculating…]

  [Error. Predicted Outcome Not Found]

  [Evaluating Broken Scenario...]

  [Unknown Entity: Located]

  [Calling Administrator]

  [Temporary Extraction: In Progress...]