What was a system?
Mu Zhaoran did not know. With death already upon her and her heart reduced to ashes, she had no desire to find out.
Yet ever since that voice appeared out of nowhere, it had been chattering endlessly in her mind, impossible to drive away.
It told her that this world was, in fact, built upon a story—a fictional tale. Everyone’s fate in this world stemmed from that book, born from the author’s pen, and Mu Zhaoran was no exception.
Only, she was not the protagonist of that story.
She was the vicious female supporting character, whose sole purpose was to obsess over the male lead, frame the female lead, add hardship and misunderstanding to the romance of the protagonists, and provide the story with drama and twists.
In the end, after the male and female leads overcame mountains and seas, cleared all misunderstandings, and became deeply devoted to one another, she would meet a miserable end—one that delighted the masses—becoming a despised and inevitable footnote in their love story.
Fortunately, times had changed.
The era of brainless female rivalry and vicious supporting characters was no longer in vogue. And so, born from the resentment of countless readers, this system came into being, traveling through novel worlds to reform such characters.
Mu Zhaoran had committed countless wrongs; her sins were grave—textbook material, one might say. Yet she was not entirely beyond saving. A trace of remorse still lingered in her heart, unextinguished.
Thus, she became the system’s first chosen target.
As long as she accepted the system’s reform, she would be granted another life—able to offset the karmic debt she had accumulated in her previous existence, defy fate, and obtain a new life.
“Another life?”
Only upon hearing these words did the stagnant waters of Mu Zhaoran’s heart finally ripple.“How?” she asked.
The system replied, “Heaven’s justice is clear, and retribution never errs. The reason you have fallen to this state lies entirely in the causes of sin you sowed before.”
As the system spoke, scenes from Mu Zhaoran’s past finally began to surface before her eyes, flashing like a revolving lantern, tracing backward along the river of time to its source.
—From the moment she cut off a lock of hair from behind her ear and wove it into the tassel,to the moment she used her coquettish beauty to entice Yanluo into capturing Ye Lizhi for her, locking her in a dark dungeon and tormenting her until she lost the child in her womb.
Then to her failed attempt to frame Ye Lizhi, only to have her own cultivation crippled by the Heavenly Dao Palace and her name entered into the Register of the Lost Path—reduced to a stray with nowhere to return.
And further back still, to her days in the Heavenly Dao Palace, when she committed many despicable acts driven by jealousy and rivalry.
Scene after scene was dragged from the depths of her memory, vivid and merciless, laying bare the sins she had committed and the increasingly twisted, vicious nature of her heart.
The backward-flowing visions finally froze on one moment—
The day she was about to depart Nanrong and set out for the Heavenly Dao Palace to begin her cultivation.
The sound of ritual drums crossed distant years and once again thundered beside her ears.
In the image before her, sunlight shone brilliantly, petals drifted through the air, and the young princess—just come of age—wore a heavy, elaborate ceremonial robe. A golden hairpin gleamed among her locks, crimson traced the corners of her eyes, and a sacred silver sigil adorned her brow. With both arms raised, jade tablet in hand, she ascended the altar step by step.
Like a stately, luxurious hibiscus blossom, she drifted gracefully toward the heights of the altar, following the complicated rites—three kneelings and nine prostrations—praying that her journey to cultivate at the Heavenly Dao Palace would succeed, and that she might bring back the “Heaven-Bearing Mirror” to safeguard Nanrong’s prosperity for a hundred years.
The ceremony was solemn and grave; everyone present wore a serious expression. Ironically, the little princess at the heart of it all stared at the jade tablet filled with prayers in her hands, her eyes misted with tears as she desperately suppressed a bored yawn.
Her memories grew clearer and clearer. Mu Zhaoran recalled that the weather that day had originally been poor—dark clouds pressed heavily overhead. She had never wanted to leave her parents and her personal tutors to study at that blasted Heavenly Dao Palace, and so she had seized upon the ominous weather as an excuse to throw a tantrum.
In the end, however, an arm could not twist a thigh. No matter how much her father and mother indulged her, they could not defy the Heavenly Dao nor alter tradition.
She disliked the gloomy skies, so the three elders of the Sacred Hall—who had watched over her since childhood—joined forces and used their spiritual power to form a formation, forcibly tearing open the clouds above the royal palace before the ceremony began.
Radiant beams of light poured down from the裂开的乌云. The Great Elder’s face grew even paler, like a withered flower, her every breath carrying the air of someone barely clinging to life.
She raised a hand and gently patted Mu Zhaoran’s head.“Your Highness,” she said softly, “Yao Gu is incompetent. This is all I can do—to help ensure your path forward is bright, accompanied by blossoms.”
Mu Zhaoran did not appreciate it. In her heart, she blamed her father and mother, blamed the elders of the Sacred Hall—resented every one of them for pushing her toward the Heavenly Dao Palace.
Only her younger brother, three years her junior, clung to the hem of her robes, sobbing through tears and snot, begging her to stay. He said that if he ever became ruler of Nanrong, he would let his elder sister do whatever she wished and would never bear to send her so far away to suffer.
Unfortunately, he was too young to make waves. His outburst only enraged their “cold and heartless” father, who blew his beard and glared, slapped him twice, and ordered him locked away.
Mu Zhaoran sulked in her anger, completely unaware of the blood Yao Gu coughed into her sleeve. She complained bitterly, voice rising:
“The Heavenly Dao Palace, the Heavenly Dao Palace—everything is about the Heavenly Dao Palace! My father is already the ruler of Nanrong, the lord of the southern lands. Why does he still have to submit to its commands? Why must I go just because it tells me to? I have three elders to teach me—that’s enough! You are my masters—”
She did not finish her sentence before a sealing command silenced her.
“After today’s ritual, Your Highness will be the Sacred Maiden of Nanrong. Every word and action you take represents Nanrong. You must never again utter such rebellious words.”
Yao Gu was usually gentle and rarely spoke so sternly. After scolding her, she softened her tone again, her eyes filled with sorrow as she tightly clasped Mu Zhaoran’s hands, reminding her again and again:
“This journey concerns the countless lives of Nanrong’s people—its very survival. You must bring back a new Heaven-Bearing Mirror for Nanrong.”
Mu Zhaoran turned her head to glance at the mirror-token enshrined above the main hall. She had been taught about it since childhood—knew its origins, knew it was sacred and inviolable, capable of suppressing all ill intent.
But that knowledge had remained abstract. At the time, she had never personally experienced the authority of destiny. To her, it was no different from her father’s imperial seal—which she had once played with, and even used to crack walnuts.
Silenced by the spell, unable to argue, Mu Zhaoran bit her lip and stewed in resentment, deaf to Yao Gu’s heartfelt exhortations.
Even when she finally departed Nanrong, her heart was still full of grievance toward the elders and her parents.
“Yao Gu… Father… Mother…”Mu Zhaoran gazed blankly at the long-familiar faces in her memories, reaching out into the air—only to grasp emptiness.
On the viewing platform, everyone watched as Mu Zhaoran waved her blood-soaked hands, murmuring to herself, trying to grasp something unseen.
Black swallowtail butterflies fluttered around her fingers, drawn by the scent of blood. The powder from their wings hastened the decay of her flesh, and the face that had once left countless people entranced was now completely withered.
The gu poison had likely plunged her into deathly hallucinations.
Mu Yinyi faintly heard her calling for their father and mother. He suddenly turned his back, stood in silence for a moment, then strode away without looking back even once.
He was not wrong. Even if Father and Mother were still alive, they would have made the same choice.
It was Elder Sister who was wrong.
Inside the gu cauldron, Mu Zhaoran also realized the futility of her struggle and slowly lowered her hands.
The system said, “This is the origin of your guilt—the beginning of your fall into the wrong path. Accepting system rehabilitation and returning to the past does not mean your sins will be erased. Your crimes will be engraved upon your soul, forming karmic lotus seals that punish you. Only by correcting each of your past wrongs and eliminating all karmic debt will the lotus wither and the seals disappear.”
“Of course,” it added coolly, “if you sincerely reform and stop competing with the female lead, outstanding performance may even earn you a good man—someone other than the male lead or second male lead—as your husband. You would no longer be forced to marry that gloomy, hideous, poison-ridden Gu King Yanluo, and could obtain an entirely new life.”
Lay down the butcher’s knife, and one becomes a Buddha on the spot.
Mu Zhaoran turned her gaze toward each of her “sins,” then nodded.“Fine.”
The moment she made her decision, the images in midair transformed into streaks of red light that pierced into her body, branding themselves upon her soul and carving clear marks of guilt.
It felt as though she were undergoing death by branding—her body trembling violently as she curled tightly against Yanluo’s chest. The agony of the soul drowned out all other sensations, so she failed to notice the skeletal hand beneath her palm slowly curling, clasping her fingers.
At her heart, a lotus symbolizing karmic sin took shape petal by petal, layering upon itself. At the height of her pain, Mu Zhaoran instead laughed bitterly through clenched teeth.
“Do you think I’ve never seen a lotus? Since when does a lotus have this many petals? This is practically turning into a chrysanthemum.”
The system fell silent for a moment before replying evenly, “Blame your overwhelming karmic debt. One sin, one stroke. Besides, ‘karmic chrysanthemum’ doesn’t sound very nice.”
Mu Zhaoran wept. “……”
When the final mark was branded, her soul abruptly tore free from her body, lifted high by the wind. Below, her body lay intertwined with Yanluo’s, completely submerged in swarming gu insects.
She saw Yun Xiaoyang and Ye Lizhi leaning intimately together on the viewing platform. She saw Mu Yinyi’s resolute back as he walked away. She saw the people of Nanrong cheering in the square, celebrating her death.
Her soul drifted into the roiling clouds above, her vision swallowed by darkness—until she could see no more.
Then the clouds were torn apart by a powerful force. Beneath the heavens, the blood-soaked judgment platform was replaced by a ritual altar, and the thunderous drums of ceremony resounded once more.
Sunlight poured down through the shattered clouds, and Mu Zhaoran’s soul followed a pillar of light straight downward, plunging into the body of a figure kneeling in worship on the altar below.
The little princess on the altar had been suppressing her yawns for a long time. As she bowed, she had just begun to yawn discreetly when her body suddenly trembled slightly.
When she rose again, the innocent, naïve sweetness in her eyes had vanished.
Mu Zhaoran stared blankly at the jade tablet in her hands, then excitedly raised a hand to touch her face, confirming that her features were intact.
—She was back. She had really returned to the past?!
Yao Gu’s secret voice sounded in her ears. Mu Zhaoran shuddered, forcibly suppressing the violent surge of emotions within her, resisting the urge to turn around. She followed the ritual procedures, recited the prayers, and completed the ceremony.
After the ritual, Mu Zhaoran was formally invested as the Yao Guang Sacred Maiden of Nanrong and would represent the kingdom on her journey to cultivate at the Heavenly Dao Palace. Below the altar waited her carriage; soldiers stood in formation on either side, ready to depart.
Descending from the altar, she was escorted toward the waiting carriage. Four tall, snow-white steeds drew it, their foreheads adorned with gleaming golden ornaments, their bodies clad in soft armor woven with gold thread, manes flowing like drifting clouds.
Behind them followed an even grander jade palanquin—dragons bearing jeweled canopies, phoenixes spitting tassels—lavish beyond compare, like a miniature pavilion, ensuring her comfort throughout the journey from the southern lands to the Heavenly Capital of the Central Plains.
Mu Zhaoran turned back and saw her father and mother standing atop the city walls, waving farewell. In her previous life, she had left in anger and never once looked back—and so had never seen the way they hid their sorrow behind their sleeves.
Her eyes stung in the sunlight. She instinctively took a step toward the walls, only to be stopped by a raised arm from a general beside her.
His tone was forceful.“Sacred Maiden Yao Guang, the ritual is complete. From this moment on, you may only move forward. There is no turning back.”
Mu Zhaoran suppressed her tears and turned angrily to glare at the speaker. When she saw his face clearly, her pupils shrank.
The man had the jaw of a hawk and a beard like coiled steel, clad in armor, his presence imposing—the Great Protector General of Nanrong, Ye Rong.
Ye Rong knew this little princess’s temperament well. She had been treasured like a national jewel since childhood; even the king was helpless against her. In the past, only he—a general hardened by countless battlefields—had been able to keep her somewhat in check.
But her former fear of him had always been the respectful wariness reserved for an authoritative elder. It was nothing like this sudden change—this look now filled with deep-seated hatred.
Ye Rong could not understand the source of that hatred. His thick, bold brows furrowed as his heavy gaze scrutinized her.
“Why does the Sacred Maiden look at this general in such a way?”
After the ritual, he had immediately addressed her by her newly bestowed title.
According to old Nanrong customs, a princess should have been sent to the Sacred Hall for upbringing shortly after birth, forbidden from frequent contact with her parents, so as to sever mortal attachments.
However, the emperor above all others truly could not bear to part with his daughter. Defying the objections of the court officials, he forcibly altered ancestral rites, allowing her to grow up as a princess until now, only formally assuming the role of Sacred Maiden after the ritual.
General Ye also had a beloved daughter of his own and could therefore empathize with the emperor’s feelings. When the emperor encountered resistance while changing the rites back then, it was Ye who was the first to step forward in support, silencing many of the opposing ministers.
Thus, although Mu Zhaoran had feared him in the past, she had also respected him. She would never have looked at him with such eyes.
Now, suddenly facing the man who in her previous life had murdered the ruler and usurped the throne—who had killed her own father and mother—Mu Zhaoran was struck by shock and fury all at once. Her blood surged violently, her heartbeat pounding even harder than the ritual drums on the altar moments before, the thunderous rhythm rattling her mind until it buzzed with noise. Every thought screamed the same command:
Kill him. Kill him now.
Her taut gaze dropped to the sword at Ye Rong’s waist. Beneath her sleeves, her fingertips trembled as an uncontrollable urge surged within her—to rush forward, draw the blade, and cut him down on the spot.
Ye Rong sharply sensed the killing intent in her eyes and followed her line of sight downward.
At that very moment, a figure suddenly ran in from the side, inserting herself between them. She first performed a proper curtsy toward Mu Zhaoran, then lifted her head and blinked at her familiarly, calling out with a smile,
“Please allow me to ride in the same carriage as you, Your Highness.”
At the same time, the system’s voice sounded in Mu Zhaoran’s mind:
“See that? That’s the female lead. This time, you must get along well with her. System mission officially activated. Host, please cherish this opportunity for rehabilitation, cleanse your karmic sins as soon as possible, reshape yourself, and be reborn into a new life.”