Pink Lotus-jie clapped her hands. At once, two maids stepped forward and set down a pair of tea cups. The vessels were glassy and translucent, the tea inside a clear jade-green, its fragrance light and subtle.
The mont that scent reached my nose, my whole body jolted. Sothing felt off—but under Pink Lotus-jie’s smiling gaze, neither my elder brother nor I could bring ourselves to refuse.
“Please.”
Her voice fell softly, yet carried an unmistakable chill that brooked no defiance.
My brother and I exchanged a look. With no other choice, we braced ourselves, lifted the cups—
—and drained them in one gulp.
The bitterness made my face crumple instantly. Inside, I cursed up a storm.
Tea? This is tea?! This is straight-up poison soup!
Sure enough, Pink Lotus-jie watched us coolly as her smile slowly faded.
“Gentlen, forgive ,” she said calmly. “The tea you just drank was laced with Monthly Crimson. Once every month, you must take the antidote on schedule. Miss it—and your organs will burn, your abdon will tear with pain, until you die screaming.”
My eyes flew wide open. I nearly bit my tongue off.
“What?! You—you poisoned us?!”
Pink Lotus-jie rely laughed softly, her expression radiant.
“Poison, dicine—it’s all just a matter of rules. When the Eighth Prince employs soone, he prefers them firmly in hand. Rest assured: as long as you faithfully retrieve the Blood Lotus Sect’s secret object for His Highness, the antidote will be provided each month. Otherwise—”
She hooked one finger lightly across her throat in a neat slicing gesture. Her smile blood like a flower in full glory.
Cold seeped through from head to toe.
So this is it, I thought bitterly. The Prince didn’t just tie to a rope—he put a lock around my neck.
My elder brother’s face was iron-dark, but he could only clasp his hands and say,
“Pink Lotus-jie may rest assured. We brothers will not disappoint the Prince.”
As for , ten thousand variations of damn it were screaming through my skull, while my face managed only a stiff, brittle smile.
“Haha… truly… His Highness is so considerate. Even the dicine’s been thoughtfully prepared…”
Before leaving, my brother spoke to again, his voice low and steady.
“Gong, say nothing. No matter what path you take—protect your life.”
I nodded, my heart pounding, just about to breathe—
—when suddenly clang!
It was like soone had slamd a gong next to my ear. I nearly thought the poison had already taken effect.
The next second, a familiar blue interface burst into view, flooding my vision with light so bright it nearly blinded .
【Ding! New tag triggered: Palace Intrigue / Household Power Struggles.】
: “……”
I froze on the spot.
“Palace intrigue?! Household scheming?! Hold on—wasn’t this supposed to be a martial world suffering fic? Since when did it pivot into palace drama?!”
This ti, even the system’s voice sounded heavy, like it was owed eight hundred taels of silver.
“Reminder to host: the docunt has entered a new phase. Due to changes in reader aesthetic preferences, after the original author abandoned the work, the novel was reprocessed via backend big-data cleansing. Narrative difficulty has been automatically increased. From today onward, host must concurrently maintain the original martial-world mainline and newly added derivative arcs. Failure to et completion standards will result in task failure.”
A vein jumped on my forehead.
I cursed silently: Heaven truly leaves no path—but specializes in screwing alone.
“Wait!” I yelled. “What the hell is this?! Palace intrigue?! Didn’t this pit get abandoned? Even if you’re sweeping with big data, shouldn’t there be quality control?! Why dredge rotten sludge from the bottom and sar it all over my face?!”
The system paused briefly, then replied in the sa unshakable chanical tone.
“Reader preferences have evolved. Single-track tragedy, martial, or farming tags no longer ensure retention. Multi-line hybrid narratives are now required. Please understand and cooperate.”
I jumped in place, furious.
“Understand my ass! You want palace intrigue—go find eunuchs! You want household drama—go grab concubines! Why ?! I’m a useless freeloader waiting to die—who exactly am I supposed to sche against?!”
The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I slapped my thigh so hard I nearly shattered bone.
“Enough! I’m learning from the original author—abandoning the story! I quit! I’m done!”
The system remained unhurried, like reciting an official docunt.
“If host chooses forced withdrawal, binding will be deed failed. Soul will be disassembled and archived.”
My mouth twitched. I nearly spat blood.
“…Damn. That’s brutal.”
“Please remain calm,” the system said evenly.
“I can’t!” I exploded. “You trash systems wave big data around all day just to bully one abandoned-canon cannon-fodder! I swallowed fantasy, secret realms, mysteries, wuxia—fine! And now palace intrigue too?! What’s next, making cross-dress and enter the harem?!”
System: “……”
I fud. “Laugh! Co on, laugh already!!”
—But the interface didn’t move an inch. Only a single icy line appeared:
【Host is advised to prepare for adaptive response. Surrounded on all sides. Comncing shortly.】
I clutched my face and wailing.
“It’s over, it’s over… my life’s officially a full dramatic cliché pack…”
I took a deep breath, heart hardening.
“If you’re already giving the deluxe edition, then be generous. How about letting skip the Blood Lotus Sect infiltration entirely? Or at least give rewards—hints will do! Otherwise I’m dead before I even leave the gate!”
The system paused—then, shockingly “considerately,” pushed a long list into view.
【Host Advisory: Common scenarios likely to occur during ‘Sect Artifact Retrieval’】
—Assassination, poisoning, betrayal, misunderstanding, framing, love rivals appearing, triangular-quadrilateral-pentagonal bloodbaths…
My temples throbbed violently. Just as I was about to curse, the next page flipped open automatically.
【Corresponding Palace/Household Derivative Scenarios】
—Poisoned tea, covert flirtation, false accusations of illicit affairs, forced political marriage, imperial favor, consort fallout, adoptive father’s betrayal, siblings turning on each other…
: “???!”
I stared while itching to smash the interface.
“This is martial fiction?! This is palace drama?! Either way it’s a dead end!”
The more I read, the angrier I got—until suddenly, inspiration struck.
I narrowed my eyes.
“Wait… by your logic, any given action I take could trigger a specific plotline, right?”
The system replied coolly: 【Correct.】
I blinked, gears spinning fast.
“And we already know your predictions and warnings lag behind, right? So if I suddenly do sothing completely illogical—no buildup, no warning—couldn’t that randomly trigger a plotline and scramble the sequence? Basically—brute-force my way through?”
The system hesitated. 【Probability exists.】
My eyes lit up like lanterns. I nearly leapt up to start dancing.
“Brilliant! Brilliant! I, Nangong the Worthless, didn’t survive this long for nothing! Isn’t that just rolling dice?! Who knows—I might roll straight into a shortcut ending!”
The system remained rigid.
“But it may also trigger extrely unfavorable scenarios, leading to cascading collapse and total narrative failure.”
I froze—then sneered.
“Heh. You already said I’m about to be besieged from all sides. What’s there to fear? Dead horse, living treatnt. Either way I’m dood—might as well gamble!”
System: 【……】
I raised my chin, hands on hips, laughing wildly.
“From today on, this young master Nangong has only one strategy—crash blindly into walls! Either I open a door to joy, or I win a coffin upgrade. I accept!”
The interface shook violently, like my reckless declaration had jamd it for three full seconds. Finally, a single cold line appeared:
【Host has selected High-Risk Randomized Route. Consequences borne by host.】
I swept my arm wide.
“Co on then, drama against sanity—your lord is ready.”
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