That Dropped Chinese Novel’s Useless Me Says No to the System Chapter 7 Reunion

I stood in the middle.

System A hovered cold and silent on my left;

System B stood to the right, polite and well-dressed like so old ambans from the imperial house—hands folded, smile mild, eyes full of that fake “understanding.”

I stared at the two for a long mont, then cleared my throat.

“So… as systems, aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know—omniscient and all-powerful?”

System A:

“Assistance limited to in-rule prompts. No direct interference allowed.”

System B:

“rely one who observes subtleties and deciphers the weave of fate. Should the host doubt, I welco testing.”

I blinked.

Why did that one sound like my old classics tutor?

I jabbed a finger at System B.

“Why do you sound exactly like the old master who used to drill in Ancient Prose Anthology?”

System B smiled.

“I take form from what the host knows best.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“All right then.” I dusted off my sleeves. “Let’s see if you can live up to that tone. Since you said I can ‘test you,’ let’s have ourselves a little Q&A.”

System B bowed slightly.

“Please.”

System A:

“Not recomnded. Inefficient use of ti.”

“Shut up,” I said pleasantly, smiling like a poisonous mushroom from The Herbal Canon of Shennong.

“I’m in a foul mood. Let’s play.”

I cleared my throat. “First one: proverb test! Listen carefully—‘A mouse falls into a book chest,’ what cos next?”

System A:

“No data. Current action marked as low-efficiency behavior.”

System B didn’t even blink.

“Word-biting and letter-chewing.”

“Oh-ho. Not bad.” I grinned. “Next one—‘Taking a bath in boiling water?’”

System A:

“Invalid query. Irrelevant to trial.”

System B, still smiling:

“Well done—you’re cooked.”

“Ha! You do have so talent.”

I began pacing in circles, excitent rising. “Since you’re such a scholar, let’s switch to local customs. Great Sheng Dynasty trivia! Ready?”

“Proceed,” said System B.

“When a bride in the capital marries, what’s the first thing she does that night?”

“Steams red date cakes and combs her hair thrice,” System B replied smoothly. “A wish for babies and lifelong harmony.”

“Not bad,” I said. “And if the bride sneaks off in the middle of the night?”

A tiny pause, then a cheerful tone:

“Then the red date cake goes cold, and Auntie Gui next door gets herself a snack.”

“...Hah!” I laughed out loud. “Almost sounds true.”

System A cut in icily:

“Information unverifiable. Illusion dialogue not admissible for judgnt.”

I gave it a sideways look. “You really don’t know how to have fun, huh? So system you are.”

Then I turned back to System B, smirking.

“All right, one last question. Say I, Nangong Gong, one day rise to power and beco the empire’s top minister—who should I take as my official consort?”

System A jumped in first:

“Insufficient data.”

System B glanced up, eyes faintly amused.

“Lian.”

—Bang.

Sothing in my chest slamd hard.

I stepped back, voice rough. “You’re not a real system.”

“I am what your mind creates,” System B said gently. “The system you wish for looks like .”

“You’re just feeding what I want to hear,” I hissed. “That’s not truth. That’s flattery.”

“Truth,” it said softly, “is what you choose to believe.”

System A’s voice cut through, crisp and cold:

“Illusion depth approaching threshold. Host advised to choose alignnt.”

I stood still for a long mont.

Only then did I realize—this trial wasn’t about truth or falsehood.

It was about which version of myself I believed in.

I looked at System B—calm, obedient, almost perfect. Too familiar.

But the real system would never say “Lian.”

The real one barely spared a word.

I burst out laughing, stepped forward, and kicked System B straight in the face.

“To hell with it. I may be useless, but I call my own shots!”

With a sharp crack, its form shattered—features twisting, voice splintering into static.

A hiss rose from the darkness:

“You’d even give up your dream?”

I snorted. “I’ll stick on my decisions, thanks.”

The world shook apart. Light and shadow collapsed.

Then ca a dry, familiar ding:

“Stage Five: Doubt—cleared.”

The world folded like a scroll.

I tumbled out of the illusion and hit soft grass.

Sunlight poured down.

Warm breeze.

A hillside of green, a stream murmuring, a pond of blooming lotus.

“...Huff.” I lay flat, brain still mashed like sticky rice after the explosion.

“System…” I croaked. “Am I… back?”

“Trial sequence completed,” the system intoned. “Performance: exceptional. Reward granted—rapid return to main storyline.”

My stomach sank.

“Wait. Which storyline?”

“Title: The Doctrine of Loving Lian. Plot progress: randomized. Chapter title: none.”

My eye twitched. “Hold on. That ans… Lian—the Blood Lotus Cult leader? Last I checked, the cultists were trying to kill him!”

“Affirmative. Original scene: pre-awakening arc, stage ‘All Villains, Wrong Love.’ Suitable for identity rge.”

“Wonderful!” I smacked the ground. “You said I could rest after the trial!”

“Correction: system never ntioned ‘vacation.’ You have exited illusion. Current location: outskirts of the capital, Lianchi Valley.”

I froze.

The breeze carried the faint ring of wind chis.

Ahead, up a small slope, stood a wooden house under an ancient willow—white walls, gray tiles, and a string of old bells swaying at the door.

A chill crawled up my spine. “One last ti—where exactly am I?”

“Current site: Blood Lotus Cult. Residence of the Cult Leader.”

My face went hot, my feet cold.

“You’re joking.”

“Negative.”

“This hut?!”

“Confird. Cult Leader’s private quarters.”

“Then right now I’m—”

“Approaching key plot event: ‘Reunion with the Cult Leader.’”

I felt a headache bigger than the capital walls.

Who wrote this cursed script?!

I looked up at the sky, utterly done.

“System, when you said return to mainline, maybe specify if it’s the hell difficulty version next ti?”

“Please proceed to knock.”

The wind chi tinkled—ding-ling—like a death sentence.

I swallowed hard, stepped up, and raised my hand.

Before I could knock, a low laugh drifted out from within.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

My knees nearly buckled. I slipped into the mud by the pond.

That voice—

Lian.

But not the soft-spoken lover.

This was a cult master.

Every note of that laugh carried a blade.

Sweat slid down my back.

“System,” I whispered, “any chance I can… go back into the illusion for a bit?”

“Denied.”