Dying Is Not an Option—Tell That to My System!

The dirt path stretched ahead, winding through the old trees. The ground was rough, with loose pebbles and sharp stones scattered everywhere. Each step crunched softly, the sound mixing with the distant rustling of leaves and the buzz of insects.

Big D, the shepherd dog, walked ahead, his sharp eyes glowing in the dim light. His red cloak fluttered slightly as he moved, his strong body tense. This wasn't just any night. Something was off.

The villagers followed behind, their faces pale and serious. Their robes were worn and patched, the fabric thin from years of use. Some carried old torches, their flames flickering weakly in the night breeze. Others clutched wooden staffs, gripping them tight as if expecting danger at any moment.

"Damn it…" the village chief muttered under his breath, his wrinkled hands tightening around his staff. His face was carved with deep lines, his eyes sharp despite his age. He had seen too much, and he didn't like what was coming.

The path was wild, almost like it didn't want them to pass. Thick vines crawled over the ground, reaching across like fingers trying to grab at their feet. Some had small, white flowers that gave off a strange, sweet scent. Others had sharp thorns, waiting to tear at flesh.

Now and then, a snake slithered across the road, its cold eyes glinting before disappearing into the darkness. Some were small and fast, barely noticeable. Others were thick and coiled, resting in the shadows like silent watchers.

The sound of wings buzzing filled the air as insects moved around them. Moths, their pale wings glowing in the torchlight, danced in circles before vanishing. A large beetle crawled over a stone, its shell smooth and black like polished metal.

The river was close now. The air was heavy with moisture, carrying the faint scent of water and damp earth. The trees stood taller, closer together, as if guarding something. The ground was wet, the stones slick and cold underfoot.

Then, Big D stopped.

His ears twitched. His fur bristled.

A deep growl rumbled from his throat.

Lu Chunhe followed Big D down the winding dirt path toward the river. The old man's steps were slow, hesitant, his frail body trembling beneath his robes. The torch in his hands flickered wildly, casting unsteady shadows on the path.

Beside Lu Chunhe, Big D padded along under the moonlight. Though he still looked like a normal shepherd dog, his movements were unnaturally smooth. His instincts had sharpened after his enlightenment, and under the system's influence, he had become a spirit dog—a being no longer bound by the limits of ordinary beasts. Even without words, he understood more. He sensed things beyond the physical—emotions, energies, the thin line between life and death.

As they neared the riverbank, Big D let out a low growl. His golden eyes glowed faintly, scanning the battlefield. The villagers held their breath, uneasy at the sight.

Corpses. Dozens of them. Some floated lifelessly in the water, their faces pale, their robes torn. Others lay sprawled on the muddy shore, twisted into unnatural positions. The river, once clear and gentle, now ran red. The reeds near the edge sagged under the weight of congealed blood, their stalks snapped where bodies had fallen.

Seven factions. Seven groups of cultivators. All wiped out. Deep blue—Misty Bamboo Sect. Dark red—Sunset Sword Pavilion. Dark green—Slumber Pit Sect. Royal purple—Purple Resonance Hall. Silver-gray—Hasty Mist Sect. Pale white—Hidden Moon Pavilion. Jet black, lined with crimson—Dark Thunder Sect.

This wasn't just a battle. This was straight-up annihilation.

Big D sniffed a fallen body, ears twitching. His golden eyes flickered. Lu Chunhe's stomach tightened. This scene—it reminded him of another night. A night when the Dark Thunder Sect turned on him, leaving him for dead.

The villagers stood at a distance, whispering among themselves. Men, women, even children, their faces pale with fear. Lu Chunhe narrowed his eyes. "No survivors."

But just as he thought that—

Ding!

A cold, mechanical chime rang in his mind.

[System activation complete. New function unlocked: Appraisal.]

His pupils shrank.

A surge of information flooded his mind. His vision sharpened, and suddenly, the battlefield changed. The bodies around him were no longer just corpses. They became data—names, cultivation levels, injuries, hidden details.

And among them—

A flickering ember of life.

Name: Ji Yun

Affiliation: Misty Bamboo Sect

Status: Heavily wounded. Poisoned. Bloodline… unknown.

Still alive.

Lu Chunhe's heartbeat quickened. Before he could react—

Ding!

[New Mission: Save Ji Yun]

[Failure Consequence: Three days of uncontrollable heat]

Lu Chunhe's face darkened.

Uncontrollable. Mind-breaking. Animalistic heat. The kind that would leave him delirious, weak, and desperate for relief.

A man could lose his life. But he couldn't lose his dignity.

His jaw clenched.

This was a damn trap.

He had no interest in playing hero. The battlefield stank of trouble—sect grudges, hidden schemes, unseen dangers. If he stepped in, he would be walking into a storm.

But three days of helpless suffering?

"…Fuck."

His fingers curled into fists before he quickly moved forward. He knelt beside Ji Yun and pulled out herbs from his spatial farm. A deep gash ran across Ji Yun's chest, his lips tinged a sickly purple—poison. No time to hesitate.

Lu Chunhe worked fast. Crushed leaves, powdered roots, medicinal extracts—he applied them all with practiced hands. The sharp scent of medicine filled the air.

Ji Yun barely responded, his breath weak. Too weak.

Lu Chunhe frowned. "Swallow."

Ji Yun didn't move.

Lu Chunhe's expression darkened. Fine. He forced the medicine down Ji Yun's throat.

A long silence.

Then—Ji Yun's fingers twitched. His breath hitched.

Then—

"ACHOO!"

Lu Chunhe barely had time to react before Ji Yun's body shuddered violently. His face turned red. His hands clawed at the ground. His breath became ragged.

Lu Chunhe's mind went blank.

Oh, hell no.

A notification flashed.

[Mission failed.]

[Side Effect Triggered: Overdose detected.]

Lu Chunhe pressed his fingers against his temple.

He just wanted to avoid trouble.

Now, he had an overdosed, Dead cultivator on his hands… and a battlefield full of corpses.

This was going to be a long fucking night.