“Oh God. I’ve actually transmigrated. I have god-like powers. And now three kids.”
Somehow, while muttering to myself, I had wandered in front of the mirror.
“System, why didn’t you make me younger when you elevated my cultivation?”
I let out a long breath. The stress slowly drained from my shoulders.
The truth was simple.
I couldn’t change what had happened.
And if my last life had taught me anything, it was this: I could handle more than most people thought. I had worked retail for years, for heaven’s sake. What was the difference between fighting beasts and godlike beings compared to arguing with a homeless man off his face trying to fight you over a jar of mayo and ketchup?
I could do this.
Ding-Ding-Ding
Host, the reason I did not make you younger and instead sealed your vitality was so you could act as a guiding elder for the children.
We do not want your disciples thirsting after you. Now, do we?
I snorted.
“Probably for the best I don’t look like some immortal fairy. Can you reseal the vitality if you lift it?”
Ding-Ding-Ding
Host, I can reseal it. Why?
“Well…” I tilted my head thoughtfully. “Imagine the spectacle. Every step I take, my age recedes. I battle fiercely, then return to my kindly old lady appearance afterward. The kids would worship Granny. Wouldn’t they?”
There was a pause.
Then—
Ding-Ding-Ding
Host, that is an excellent idea.
For assisting in improving the system, please accept this gift.
Item Received: Immortal Chameleon Robe
– Immune to all attacks below the Immortal Realm
– Stores Immortal Qi for later use
– Can transform into any outfit the Host imagines
– Contains repair and cleansing formations
– Automatically maintains quality
“Holy— this is amazing. Earth PJs incoming.”
I swapped into the robe and imagined the finest pyjamas from my previous life.
A heartbeat later, I stood in a maroon silk matching set, fur-lined at the cuffs and collar, with soft slippers completing the ensemble.
I stared at myself in the mirror.
“This system really is my saviour.”
Time for bed. I wasn’t ready to give that habit up just yet. At one point in my life, it had been my favourite part of the day.
Morning came.
And by morning, it appeared to be 4 a.m.
I sat upright immediately.
“What the hell? Why do I have so much energy?”
Ding-Ding-Ding
Host, you are a Great Emperor.
Normally, someone of your standing would not sleep for ten thousand years at a time.
“…Right.”
With a thought, I shifted my robe into flowing lilac and violet silk. It complemented my eyes beautifully.
“System. Given I don’t actually know anything about cultivation — can you provide basic guidance on what the kids will need?”
Ding-Ding-Ding
Host, here is a complete foundational breakdown.
Recommendation: Visit the nearby trading pavilion and purchase low-grade herbs.
These may be refined into beginner pills or planted in the third mountain’s herb garden.
Perfect.
Most mortals would still be asleep at this hour. Cultivators, however, would already be active.
I stopped by Officer Han’s room.
Knock. Knock.
Silence.
No reply.
I expanded my spiritual awareness outward.
Within seconds—
My perception exploded.
Thousands of miles of terrain unfolded within my mind. Mountains. Rivers. Cities. Beast territories.
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The sheer scale hit me like a wave.
Vertigo overwhelmed me.
The world was vast.
Seeing it all at once was… too much.
I narrowed my focus.
Officer Han appeared within my perception.
“He’s cultivating,” I murmured. “And… in a state of enlightenment from that Saint-level technique.”
Good.
“System, can you set an alert if anyone needs me?”
Ding-Ding-Ding
Host, have you forgotten about the upgraded formation?
I slapped my forehead.
“How could I forget that?”
The formation covered everything.
Right.
Feeling reassured, I prepared to leave.
“System, can I get some spirit stones? Raising children is expensive.”
Ding-Ding-Ding
Host receives one storage ring.
Contents: Ten billion spirit stones (low, mid, and high grade).
Estimated sustainability: Several decades.
“Several decades? What are we buying — the Ten Thousand Yin Ghost?”
Ding-Ding-Ding
Host, you possess three once-in-an-era children.
This is only the beginning.
Should famine strike, and Officer Han bring hundreds more…
I remind the Host: such events are common.
Based on your behaviour, he will bring more.
The system’s tone lingered.
As if it had glimpsed threads of fate I had not.
I didn’t like how plausible that sounded.
Best not to dwell on it.
I stepped beyond the Pagoda’s grounds for the first time.
And it hit me.
We were in the middle of nowhere.
No neighbouring farms.
No villages.
Just wilderness and distant hills.
Following the faint memory of the road, I walked briskly. The nearby city was only a few miles away.
Thirty minutes later, I reached the gates.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
As I stepped into the lantern light, recognition dawned across the guard’s face.
“Ms. Heather? What brings you here so early?”
I smiled warmly.
“I’ve taken in some children orphaned by the war. I need supplies. Herbs as well — I’m planning to try my hand at alchemy using my late husband’s notes.”
A partial truth was always safer than a lie.
“Money doesn’t grow on trees,” I added lightly.
The guard’s expression softened.
“Ms. Heather has always been kind. The only children left after the sects chose were mortals. Not many cultivators would help mortals. As a mortal myself… thank you.”
He bowed slightly and gestured for me to enter.
Ordinarily, outsiders paid silver to pass through the gates.
He waved me through without asking.
The name Falling Star City lingered in my thoughts as I stepped deeper into its awakening streets. Dawn had only just begun to dilute the darkness, painting tiled rooftops in muted indigo and ash-grey. Vendors were lifting shutters with groaning hinges; the scent of steaming buns and bone broth drifted lazily through the cool air. Somewhere in the distance, a smith’s hammer struck iron in steady rhythm, the metallic cadence echoing between narrow stone lanes.
At the city’s heart stood the unmistakable centre of wealth and power — the Silk Road Pavilion.
It was less a building and more a declaration. Polished golden beams framed the entrance, veins of silver threaded through white marble floors, and lanterns studded with spirit-crystals glowed faintly even in the growing daylight. The air inside hummed with contained spiritual energy — formations layered upon formations, protective arrays woven into the very architecture. Money, power, and paranoia.
I stepped through the threshold.
The temperature shifted immediately, warmer and scented faintly with sandalwood and expensive incense. My footsteps echoed too loudly against the pristine floor, drawing attention like a dropped coin in a silent hall.
Whispers followed.
“I’m not dealing with some country bumpkin…”
“Isn’t that the widow from the outskirts?”
“Her husband died. No backing. No sect.”
Their voices were hushed but careless — the kind of cruelty born from assumed safety.
For a brief, dangerous moment, the Great Emperor within me stirred. The spiritual pressure coiled in my dantian like a waking dragon. I could collapse the ceiling with a thought. Shatter every formation. Reduce this monument to greed into a crater.
But destruction was indulgence.
Power is better demonstrated, not wasted.
A young girl stepped forward from behind a carved screen, her posture disciplined, her expression composed. She couldn’t have been older than Lucy — fourteen at most — yet her bow was precise.
“You should be serving customers, not gossiping,” she said quietly to the others.
Her smile when she turned to me was flawless. Not obsequious. Not forced. Professional.
“How may I assist you, Miss?”
Good instincts. She would go far — if she survived the vipers around her.
“I require herbs,” I replied evenly. “From Qi Refining through Nascent Soul. Every mature specimen in stock. All viable seeds as well.”
The air around us seemed to still.
The girl’s composure flickered. “Every herb…? We only carry a limited Golden Core selection. Nothing at Nascent Soul tier. Such materials rarely circulate in this region.”
“I’ll take everything.”
Behind her, chairs scraped.
The older attendants rushed forward, silk sleeves swishing sharply.
“We will assist the customer. This order is beyond a junior’s capacity.”
The girl stiffened. I could almost hear her heartbeat quicken.
I turned my gaze toward the women.
It was not a glare. It was worse — the measured, dismissive look of someone calculating whether the furniture was worth replacing.
“I am being served,” I said calmly. “If she does not handle my purchase, I will conclude my business elsewhere.”
Silence.
Then —
A ripple of spiritual fluctuation announced an arrival before footsteps did.
An elderly man materialised near the central staircase, robes embroidered with constellations in silver thread. His cultivation base hovered at the edge of Golden Core — respectable in this backwater.
“What is the disturbance?” he asked.
“I am Andrew, manager of the Silk Road Pavilion.”
I met his eyes with the same detached superiority customers had once shown me in my previous life — the look that said you are replaceable, but my coin is not.
“I was conducting a transaction,” I said, voice mild. “Your staff chose to insult both me and the only attendant willing to do her duty.”
The girl leaned in and whispered the projected total into his ear.
His face changed.
Shock first.
Then calculation.
Then something close to reverence.
He turned slowly toward the women.
“Expel them.”
The words were ice.
“They are no longer affiliated with the Pavilion. If they return, break their legs. If they persist… remove their heads. Display them.”
The women’s faces drained of colour.
For a fleeting second, I caught the flicker in their eyes — humiliation curdling into resentment. Dangerous. Petty minds with wounded pride often cling to powerful men like ivy to a crumbling wall.
I filed the observation away.
Enemies are inevitable. Predictable enemies are preferable.
The manager turned back to me, posture slightly bowed now.
“My apologies, honoured customer. We will personally oversee the packing of your herbs. May I inquire as to your purpose? Such quantities suggest… ambition.”
Ambition.
If only he knew.
I smiled gently, the harmless widow once more.
“I’m raising children,” I said. “They’ll need resources.”
And somewhere deep within the Pavilion’s layered formations, the spiritual arrays thrummed — as if even they sensed that Falling Star City had just shifted its fate.