"I’m asking you who you are? And why are you hiding here?”

The voice was soft yet commanding, laced with the kind of arrogance that could only belong to someone highborn and untouchable.

North didn’t even need to turn around to confirm it.

[Jade Beauty Encounter: Confirmed.]

He rolled his eyes. Of course. Another mess of his own making. He exhaled through his nose. Why even fight it at this point? His entire life had officially become a joke, and he was the punchline. At this rate, he wasn’t even sure if he’d survive the rest of the day. His eyes were already brimming with frustrated, exhausted tears, and he decided to use them.

Might as well turn his misery into a survival strategy.

"My family… my family was killed by bandits…" North choked on his own words, his voice cracking. "We… we were traveling to the city and were about to cross the mountains … and they attacked us. I was… I was the only one who escaped…"

His shoulders shook violently, and he let out a ragged breath, pouring every ounce of pain, frustration, and existential horror of his current reality into his performance.

"I didn’t even get a chance… to bury their bodies!" His voice wavered. "I’m all alone now… the last of my family."

The words left his lips so smoothly, so naturally, that even he was shocked by his own ability to bullshit. North almost snorted. But he had no time to break character.

For added effect, he lifted his head slowly, allowing his teary, bloodshot eyes to lock onto the woman standing above him. And for the first time—he hesitated. The woman before him wasn’t just beautiful. She was game-breaking. Her black hair fell in a cascade of silken strands, shimmering like moonlight on a still lake. Her eyes—moon like—seemed to glow faintly in the dim alleyway. Her skin was flawless, her lips softly parted in shock, her robes—delicately embroidered with celestial motifs—suggested she wasn’t just some random noblewoman.

No.

She was important. Which meant she was dangerous.

North immediately corrected his mental state. This was not a good thing.

She was either:

1. A tragic heroine, destined to drag him into some revenge plot.

2. A high-ranking sect disciple, meaning he was about five seconds away from being accused of something stupid.

3. A future antagonist, who would one day remember this meeting and try to kill him over something equally stupid.

But for now?

She simply stood there, her mouth slightly open, clearly at a loss for words. North also stayed silent. It was a risk to speak first. The golden rule of survival was never give anyone an excuse to suddenly declare you their sworn enemy. Instead, he let the awkward silence stretch.

The mercury in the girl's eyes flickered, shifting from shock to… something unreadable. Her expression rippled, like a serene lake disturbed by a large, poorly thrown rock.

She opened her mouth. Then closed it. North swallowed, waiting.

"Ahh... I see." She nodded sagely, as if she had just unraveled the mysteries of the universe.

A second passed. Then another.

"Hand me all the money you have."

She raised a delicate hand and shamelessly—shamelessly—asked. North’s jaw dropped. His face drained of color so fast he briefly felt his soul leave his body.

Huh?

No. No, no, no, no. This wasn’t in the script.

His mind reeled. This wasn’t how a Jade Beauty encounter worked!

A proper Jade Beauty had two, TWO correct responses:

1. Instantly fall in love and become hopelessly devoted.

2. Gracefully storm off in disgust, possibly sending a murder squad after him.

But this?!

[Error: Character behavior outside expected parameters]

[Template conflict detected]

[Unable to predict scenario outcome]

North stared at her outstretched hand, blinking rapidly, as if his eyes were deceiving him. Shouldn’t she be at least mildly offended by his tragic, peasant-tier sob story? Or, at the very least, react with the usual noble lady arrogance? And yet—here she was. Hand extended. Completely unfazed. Waiting for money like a patient yet professional loan shark.

This was wrong. The system was literally glitching. Had his presence here broken some critical world-setting parameter? Or—was the world already this broken before he got here?

His existential crisis was abruptly cut short.

"Stop overthinking." The girl clicked her tongue, impatient. "I promise, I'll burn paper money for your family. Yes, I know how to do that.” She nodded, purposely acting innocently and cute(perhaps).

…

North almost choked on air. He gawked at her, his mind short-circuiting so hard he swore he heard static. Not even a hint of hesitation. No fake sympathy. No delicate, sorrowful sigh.

Just—"Give me your money, I’ll burn some for your dead relatives." Like she was doing him a favor.

This wasn’t a tragic heroine.

This was a damn highway bandit.

North glanced at her again. The moon-like glow in her eyes. The otherworldly aura. The elegant, flowing robes that made her look like she belonged in an immortal sect, standing atop a floating sword, radiating divine energy. A celestial fairy. A goddess descended from the heavens. But, his gaze lowered to her shamelessly outstretched hand. The illusion shattered. This was no goddess. This was a corporate debt collector in disguise.

Also, he definitely hadn’t misheard.

"Uhhh…" He licked his lips. "I—I don’t have money."

Her piercing gaze narrowed.

"Didn't you just say your family was traveling to the city? That means you had money for travel expenses."

North’s left eye twitched.

"…We got robbed?" he tried weakly.

"Then you should have at least a copper or two hidden somewhere," she stated with complete certainty, as if he were lying to her face. “How did you intend to survive in the city after escaping the bandits?”

"I—I planned to…" North struggled. "To… um… find work?"

She scoffed.

"You? Work?" Her eyes flicked over him, unimpressed. "With that face?"

"Excuse me?!" North choked.

Did… did she really just say that? This woman was more of a villain than those mountain bandits in his eyes.

"Too soft." She gestured vaguely at his entire existence. "No calluses. No scars. You’re obviously not a laborer. Not a merchant either—your clothes are cheap and weird, where did you buy them from? And your posture? You're holding yourself like an outsider."

North felt personally attacked.

Where was the melancholy?

Where was the cold but elegant rejection?

Where was the dramatic hair flip followed by her walking away into the mist?

His brain refused to process.

"What…" He exhaled slowly. "What kind of person are you?"

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"A smart one," she said, as if that should have been obvious.

North had no words. He rubbed his temples. "You—… How—… What—…"

His internal suffering must have been written all over his face because she sighed dramatically, as if dealing with a troublesome child.

“Why is everyone I meet broke nowadays?” she muttered under her breath.

Then, after a long pause, she clicked her tongue and looked him over again. "Alright, fine." She waved a hand, sounding almost annoyed at herself. "I'll cover the cost myself. But next time, don’t expect generosity."

North twitched.

Next time?!

He was never meeting this scammer again.

[Affinity with ??? increased by +30.]

[New Fate Tie Formed.]

"No. NO."

North snapped his head up, alarmed. Fate Tie?

That was not good. That meant this wasn’t a one-time encounter. That meant this lunatic would cross paths with him again. That meant his Surreal Charm was once again ruining his life.

Think, North. THINK.

He needed to break the connection. Now. But, alas….he had no solution to such a strange problem.

Then he froze again.

A notification box materialized in the corner of his vision, its text dripping with ominous implications:

[??? secretly used her ability. You now owe ??? a favor and a pot of gold.]

…What.

North was left utterly speechless, he stood there, filled with existential crisis, as the mysterious but shameless beauty walked away, disappearing into the crowded street.

"WHAT WAS THAT?! WHAT ABILITY? WHY AND HOW DO I SUDDENLY OWE HER A POT OF GOLD?!"

That is insane….

North had never coded such ability in the game. He wasn’t sure if he should be horrified or impressed. His fists clenched. He had survived young masters, a murder inn, and a system that somehow seemed liked wanted him to suffer. But somehow…Somehow this was the most mentally exhausting thing that had happened so far. He rubbed his face. This world was broken. But the real problem? So was he. Because as much as he wanted to pretend this never happened, a tiny, horrible part of him was morbidly curious. What kind of insane person had he just met? And how much worse was this world going to get? There was no other way to escape momentarily, so it seemed surviving was the only option left.

But survival—that deceptively simple word—might be harder than leaping over a dragon's head. And not just because every NPC in this world was certifiably insane. No, the real problem ran deeper, embedded in the very code he'd written.

If this world still followed the rules of his simulator, then…

There was no story. No hero’s journey. No pre-scripted main questline. Just parameters set in place, conflicts brewing until the world burned, and an endless loop of violence, ambition, and chaos until either: The entire simulator crashed due to errors. The server wiped itself. The game hit an unplayable state.

That was it. That was how he designed it. And now he was inside it. Which meant… There was nothing guiding him. No pre-determined fate. No "destined to be the protagonist" nonsense.

Nothing.

[Survival Tax: Quite in debt]

[Time Remaining: 6 Hours]

[Warning: Lack of coherent plot structure detected]

North clutched his already pulsating head, feeling like it might explode like an overripe melon.

Was this why the system had given him that template—[Wherever I Stop, A Plot Begins]? Perhaps this was the system's attempt to inject some sort of structure into his chaotic creation. At least, that's what he told himself to keep from completely losing his mind.

Level up, level up, level up...

North smacked his fist against his palm as he paced back and forth in the small alley. The answer was obvious, wasn't it? He needed what everyone in this world needed: a Fate Token.

It was the only reliable way to level up in this world. He should know—he'd coded it that way himself. Fate Tokens, generated by the world itself, sprouting up whenever there was conflict, ambition, or a major shift in destiny. They weren’t exactly hidden treasures or rare inheritance items, but they weren't something you could just buy like vegetables from a market stall. Once used, they could transform anyone into a Visionary, opening the path to real power.

Rob a rich family, Raid a clan, Auction, Join a sect, or enter a competition.

North thought of many ways while the bitter irony of his situation hit him full force.

This is what I put people through?

This is what I forced thousands of players and NPCs to deal with?

Every single "opportunity" was a death trap he'd personally designed. Now he was stuck in his own well of infinite chaos, desperately searching for a rope that he'd never bothered to program into existence.

No need to cry.

Yes, his life expectancy was lower than a cannon fodder disciple in a face-slapping arc.

Yes, he was stuck in a world full of lunatics that followed rules even he barely understood.

Yes, he was doomed to be at the center of chaos every time he moved.

But…

Quest Giver Wei was still inside the inn. North knew the old man's code intimately—Wei wouldn't die even if an immortal vaporized him. He was like a constant in an equation, a normal Visionary given a job by the Heavens... or more accurately, by North himself. Though that distinction hardly mattered now.

I might as well take advantage of this opportunity...

Where am I?

He lifted his head, finally taking a good look at the world around him.

Pavilions rose into the sky like ancient trees, their sweeping roofs decorated with jade and gold that caught the morning light. Wind chimes hung from every corner, their soft rings mixing with the bustle below. Some buildings seemed to float on clouds, while others were carved straight into the mountain face behind the city.

The streets beneath his feet were paved with something that sparkled—fragments of nether stones, he realized. Centuries of footsteps had worn them smooth, creating paths that glowed softly in the shadows of the towering structures above.

People filled the streets in endless streams. Disciples hurried past in their sect uniforms, trying to look important. Merchants shouted prices for pills and weapons that probably didn't do what they claimed. Every now and then, someone would zip by overhead on a sword or cloud, causing the crowds to duck out of habit. A massive pagoda dominated the skyline, its golden spires disappearing into the clouds. Sect banners hung from buildings everywhere, each promising glory and power to anyone stupid enough to sign up for their next tournament.

It must be a city, North thought, though that was like calling a dragon an oversized lizard. This has to be one of the major hubs of some big clan or sect. Not just a random sect village or some backwater town.

And a place where rules existed… sort of.

A place where sect disciples, wandering cultivators, merchants, and nobles all mixed together.

And that meant:

* More opportunities to hide.

* More places to find information.

* More ways to get himself killed if he wasn’t careful.

North exhaled.

Step one: Get useful info.

Step two: Survive long enough to use it.

…

North steeled himself and stepped through the wrecked doorway of the inn. If he could create this game, then he could damn well play it too. Otherwise, wouldn't people laugh at him for being as useless as a rock?

The smell of burnt wood and spilled alcohol filled the air.

A few bodies (probably just unconscious, hopefully) were scattered across the floor.

The earlier young master drama seemed to have escalated into a full-scale brawl between three different sects. But now silence reigned, broken only by workers cursing the ancestors of those who'd left this mess behind.

And in the middle of it all...

An old man sat behind a counter, casually sipping tea, completely untouched.

Quest Giver Wei.

A pillar of stability in an ocean of madness. His wrinkled hands lifted his cup with deliberate slowness, his eyes barely acknowledging the destruction around him.

North rushed over, his heart leaping. Here was his chance.

"Senior," he said breathlessly, dropping into a dramatic bow. "Please, enlighten this lowly one!"

Old Wei finally looked up.

His expression was the same as always—neutral, unbothered, mildly inconvenienced by existence itself.

"Ah. I never seen you before. Are you new?"

[You have officially triggered the Tutorial Dialogue.]

North tried to stay calm. Even though his "player/Administrator" status was revoked, Quest Giver Wei was still a system fixture.

Meaning? There were pre-set questions that could force information out of him.

[Ask About: Basic Cultivation?]

[Ask About: City Laws?]

[Ask About: Fate Tokens?]

[Ask About: Trends of the World?]

[Ask About: A Quest!]

North’s eyes locked onto one specific choice.

[Ask About: Fate Tokens?]

Bingo.

He cleared his throat, channeling every bit of 'humble junior' energy he could muster. "Senior, this lowly junior lacks the eyes to see the Mount Tai. I have heard of your reputation far and wide, and I implore you to give me some advice."