Chapter 1

Chapter 1

By the third day after transmigrating into this book, I had realized one thing.

You cannot go head-to-head with the plot, especially not in a cultivation novel centered on tragic romance.

The book was titled *Record of Asking the Heavens*, and its main storyline was incredibly chaotic. My three junior sisters each held a top-tier protagonist script. Wei Jinghong was bound to a conquest system; her daily tasks involved flirting with the cold and aloof Sword Venerable, Mo Tingyuan. Ying Jinxue was the lead in a rebirth-revenge arc; in her previous life, she had been betrayed by her fellow disciples, leaving her meridians completely destroyed. Now that she was back, she practically had the words “I’m going to slaughter everyone” written across her face. Feng Linxing had it the worst; she was the substitute in a “White Moonlight” trope, responsible for being mistreated, misunderstood, and dragged through a humiliating grovel-for-forgiveness arc.

As for me, Luo Jiyue, I was just an ordinary inner disciple of Danxia Peak in the Qingwu Sect. I had fewer than ten lines of dialogue, and my only purpose was likely to be a background character passing by during some Sect competition.

This identity was perfect.

It was safe, transparent, and ideal for lying flat.

In my previous life, I had worked myself to death-eight to ten every day, writing year-end reviews until the early hours of the morning. The last thing I drank before I died was a fifteen-yuan cup of mango pomelo sago from the shop downstairs from my office. Now that I had finally transmigrated into the cultivation world, I had no interest in ascending, no interest in men, and even less interest in the main plot.

I just wanted to live.

Then, I took a sip of the spiritual tea from the Sect canteen.

In that moment, I realized that a person could still have some standards.

It was bitter, astringent, pungent, and carried the aftertaste of wood that had been struck by lightning three times. The canteen uncle told me it was a high-grade spiritual beverage meant to refresh the mind and awaken the senses.

I remained silent for a long time before asking him, “Is there anything a bit sweeter?”

The uncle sneered. “Those on the path of cultivation must endure bitterness to achieve the Great Dao.”

Holding that bowl of tea that was bitter enough to numb my tongue, I watched the disciples nearby. They were drenched in sweat from sword practice, each one drinking with a deep frown. Suddenly, I had a stroke of genius.

If the cultivation world was this competitive, how could it not have milk tea?

Danxia Peak had Spirit Milk Cows, Yuelu Peak had morning-harvested dew, the Herb Garden had purple taro and sweet oranges that could be boiled into a fragrant mash, and the back mountain had a patch of Black Pearl Vine that could produce a chewy texture. The raw materials were ready, the market demand was non-negotiable, and the target clientele was the entire population of the Sect engaged in high-intensity cultivation.

If this wasn’t an entrepreneurial gold mine, I didn’t know what was.

That night, Wei Jinghong was in the courtyard practicing her “seventh type of smile for a chance encounter with the Sword Venerable” in front of a bronze mirror. Ying Jinxue was in her room sharpening her blade. Feng Linxing was clutching a returned love letter, weeping.

I was nearby with a small pot, test-boiling Black Pearls.

They all thought I had gone mad.

Wei Jinghong was the first who couldn’t help herself. “Senior Sister, aren’t you going to advise me? The system says I have to give the Sword Venerable a sword tassel tomorrow.”

I didn’t even look up. “I wish you success.”

Ying Jinxue glanced at me. “You’re not going to ask why I’m sharpening my blade in the middle of the night?”

“No,” I said, seriously stirring the pot. “Asking makes it too easy to get silenced.”

Feng Linxing looked at me with red eyes. “Senior Sister, aren’t you even a little curious why Eldest Senior Brother returned my jade pendant?”

I scooped out the first batch of Black Pearls and announced calmly, “Because he’s blind.”

All three of them stared at me.

I blew on the wooden spoon in my hand and said with great solemnity, “But don’t panic. You have your main plots, and I have my own track. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to sell milk tea in the Qingwu Sect.”

The moonlight fell into the pot as a sweet fragrance slowly drifted up.

The three destined heroines looked at each other, eventually coming to the unanimous conclusion that I had probably suffered a cultivation deviation.

Only I knew the truth.

I hadn’t succumbed to madness.

I had finally found a way to survive.