What is the System?
Mu Zhaoran did not know, and now, with death looming and all hope lost, she had no intention of seeking answers.
But ever since this voice inexplicably appeared, it had been chattering incessantly in her mind, impossible to shake off.
It said that this world was actually built upon a storybook novel, that the fates of everyone in this world derived from this story, born from the author’s pen—and Mu Zhaoran was no exception.
Only, she was not the protagonist of this book, but the vicious female supporting character in the story. Her sole purpose was to obsess over the male lead, frame the female lead, adding hardships and misunderstandings to their love, while also bringing more intrigue and twists to the tale.
In the end, after the male and female leads overcame all obstacles, resolved their misunderstandings, and deepened their affection, she would meet a tragic end, much to everyone’s delight, becoming a despised interlude on their path to love.
Fortunately, times had changed. Brainless female rivalry and vicious supporting characters were no longer in vogue. Thus, this System emerged from the collective resentment of countless readers, traversing various novel worlds to reform such characters.
Mu Zhaoran had committed countless wrongs, her crimes heinous and extreme, making her a prime example. Yet, she was not entirely beyond redemption, still harboring a trace of unextinguished remorse. Thus, she became the System’s first target.
As long as she accepted the System’s reformation, she could be reborn into a new life, offsetting the sins of her past, defying fate, and gaining a fresh start.
“Reborn into a new life?”
It was only upon hearing these words that Mu Zhaoran’s stagnant heart stirred with ripples. She asked, “How can I be reborn?”
The System replied, “Heaven’s principles are clear, and retribution is inevitable. The reason you’ve ended up in this state is due to the various sins you committed in the past.”
As the System spoke, scenes from Mu Zhaoran’s past began to flash before her eyes like a revolving lantern, tracing back against the river of time to their origins.
—From the moment she cut the long hair behind her ear and wove it into a qin peg tassel, to when she used her charming looks to coax Yanluo into capturing Ye Lizhi and imprisoning her in a dark cell, torturing her in a fit of rage, causing her to lose the child in her womb.
Then, to her failed attempt to frame Ye Lizhi, which instead led to her cultivation level being stripped by Tiandao Palace, her name added to the “Dao-loser” registry, reducing her to a stray dog.
And further back, when she was still at Tiandao Palace, the many vile and despicable acts she committed out of jealousy and rivalry.
These scenes, dragged out from her memories, were vivid and clear, laying bare the sins she had committed and her increasingly twisted, malicious nature.
The retrospective memory finally settled on the day she was about to leave Nanrong to study at Tiandao Palace.
The sounds of sacrificial gongs and drums, echoing across distant years, reverberated in her ears once more.
In that scene, sunlight bathed the land, flowers danced in the air, and the princess, just coming of age, wore heavy, intricate sacrificial robes. A dazzling golden hairpin adorned her hair, red traced the corners of her eyes, and a sacred silver floral pattern graced her forehead. With arms raised high, holding a jade tablet, she ascended the Altar step by step.
Like a graceful, noble hibiscus flower, she drifted up to the heights of the Altar, following the elaborate sacrificial rituals, kneeling three times and bowing nine times, praying that her journey to Tiandao Palace would allow her to successfully retrieve the “Heaven-sanctioned Seal” and ensure a century of prosperity for Nanrong.
The ceremony was solemn and dignified, with everyone acting with utmost seriousness. In stark contrast, the little princess at the center of the ritual stared at the jade tablet in her hand, inscribed with prayers, her eyes misty with tears as she desperately fought back a yawn of boredom.
Memories of the past grew clearer. Mu Zhaoran recalled that the weather had been gloomy that day, with dark clouds hanging oppressively overhead. Already reluctant to leave her parents and mentors to study at that so-called Tiandao Palace, she had seized upon the inauspicious weather as an excuse to throw a tantrum.
In the end, however, her will proved no match for tradition. No matter how much her father, the king, and her mother, the queen, doted on her, they could not defy the Heavenly Dao and alter this age-old custom.
Disliking the gloomy weather, the three elders of the Sacred Hall who had watched over her since childhood used their spiritual power to form an array, barely managing to tear open the dark clouds shrouding the palace before the ceremony began.
A brilliant beam of light spilled through the rent in the dark clouds. The face of the Grand Elder grew even paler, like a withered flower, her every breath carrying the sickly air of one clinging to life.
She reached out and gently touched Mu Zhaoran’s head, saying, “Your Highness, this Yao Gu is powerless. I can only ensure your journey ahead is bathed in light and accompanied by blooming flowers.”
Mu Zhaoran felt no gratitude. In her heart, she resented her father, her mother, and the elders of the Sacred Hall—all of them for pushing her toward the Tiandao Palace.
Only her younger brother, three years her junior, clutched the hem of her robe, tears and sniffles mingling as he begged her to stay. He vowed that if he became the ruler of Nanrong, he would let his elder sister do whatever she wished, and would never send her so far away to suffer.
Alas, he was too young to overturn the heavens. His words only provoked the “cold and heartless” king into a furious glare, followed by two sharp slaps before ordering him locked away.
Lost in her own anger, Mu Zhaoran failed to notice the blood Yao Gu coughed into her sleeve. She complained incessantly, “Tiandao Palace, Tiandao Palace—that’s all you ever talk about! My father is already the king of Nanrong, the ruler of the Southern Realm. Why must he submit to its decrees? Why must I go just because it commands it? I have three elders to teach me; that’s enough. You are my teachers—”
Before she could finish, Yao Gu silenced her with a spell of prohibition.
“After today’s ceremony, Your Highness will be the Holy Maiden of Nanrong. Your every word and action represents Nanrong. You must never again speak such treasonous words.”
Yao Gu, usually gentle, rarely scolded her so sternly. After speaking, she softened her tone, her eyes sorrowful as she gripped Mu Zhaoran’s hand tightly, repeating her admonition, “Your Highness, this journey concerns the countless people of Nanrong, the very survival of our land. You must bring back a new ‘Heaven-sanctioned Seal’ for Nanrong.”
Mu Zhaoran glanced back at the seal token enshrined above the main hall. Though she had been taught since childhood about this token—its origins, its sacred and inviolable nature, its power to suppress any treacherous intent—it remained mere book knowledge to her then.
She had not yet personally experienced the authority of heavenly mandate, viewing it merely as something akin to her father’s imperial jade seal. And even that seal had once been in her hands, used playfully to crack walnuts.
Under the silencing spell, Mu Zhaoran could open her mouth but produce no sound, unable to argue back. She could only bite her lip in sullen anger, completely deaf to Yao Gu’s heartfelt and earnest instructions.
Until the moment she finally left Nanrong, resentment towards the elders of the Sacred Hall and her parents still lingered in her heart.
"Yao Gu, Father, Mother…" Mu Zhaoran gazed vacantly at the long-unseen faces in her memories, reaching out to grasp at the empty air, only to clutch at nothingness.
On the viewing platform, everyone watched as Mu Zhaoran waved her bloodied hand, murmuring to herself, trying to seize something intangible.
Black swallowtail butterflies fluttered around her fingers, drawn to the scent of blood on her hand. The scales shed from their wings caused her skin to fester more rapidly, and that lotus-like face that had once captivated many was now completely withered.
The gu poison had likely plunged her into the hallucinations of approaching death.
Mu Yinyi faintly heard her calling out for her father and mother. He abruptly turned his back, stood in silence for a moment, then strode away without looking back even once.
He had done nothing wrong. Even if their father and mother were still alive, they would surely have made the same choice he did.
It was Elder Sister who was mistaken.
Within the Gu cauldron, Mu Zhaoran also realized the futility of her actions and slowly lowered her hand.
The System said, "This is the origin of the sins you bear, the beginning of your descent into error. Accepting the System's transformation and returning to the past does not mean your actions will be erased. The crimes you committed will be etched into your soul, forming the Karmic Lotus Sin Mark to punish you. Only by correcting each of your wrongdoings one by one, atoning for all your sins until the karmic lotus withers, will the sin mark disappear."
"Of course, if you sincerely repent and no longer obsess over competing with the female lead, and if you perform exceptionally well, you may even be assigned a good man—other than the male lead or second male lead—from the female lead's side to be your husband. You won't have to be forced to marry that sinister, ugly, and lethally poisonous Gu King Yanluo. From then on, you can embrace a completely new life."
As the saying goes, lay down the butcher's knife, and become a Buddha on the spot.
Mu Zhaoran shifted her gaze, looking over each of her "sins," and nodded. "Very well."
The moment she made her decision, the images in the air transformed into streaks of red light that pierced her body, branding her soul and etching clear sin marks upon it.
Mu Zhaoran felt as if she were undergoing the punishment of burning on a hot pillar, trembling in agony as she curled tightly against Yanluo's chest. The excruciating pain in her soul overwhelmed all her senses, preventing her from noticing the hand beneath her palm slowly curling its fingers to clasp hers.
The lotus symbolizing her sins took shape petal by petal over her heart, overlapping and clustering together. In the extremity of her pain, Mu Zhaoran let out a bitter laugh, gritting her teeth as she said, "Do I look like I've never seen a lotus before? Since when do lotuses have so many petals? This is practically turning into a chrysanthemum."
The System fell silent for a moment before replying impassively, "If you must blame someone, blame your own accumulation of sins. One sin, one stroke. Besides, 'Karmic Chrysanthemum' doesn't sound very appealing either."
Mu Zhaoran, tears streaming down her face: "…"
As the final stroke of the sin mark was branded, Mu Zhaoran's soul abruptly detached from her body, lifted by the wind into the high sky. Her body, intertwined with Yanluo's, was completely submerged by the dense swarm of gu insects.
Mu Zhaoran saw Yun Xiaoyang and Ye Lizhi intimately leaning against each other on the viewing platform of the Gu cauldron, saw Mu Yinyi's resolute back as he strode away, and saw the people of Nanrong in the square cheering and rejoicing at her death.
Her soul drifted into the churning dark clouds above, her vision swallowed by the gloom, until she could see no more.
Until the thick clouds were torn apart by a force, beneath the sky, the bleeding judgment platform was replaced by an altar, and the drumbeats of the sacrifice rumbled like thunder.
Sunlight spilled from the shattered clouds, and Mu Zhaoran’s soul descended straight down along a beam of light, falling into the body of the person kneeling in reverence on the altar below.
The little princess on the altar had been holding back a yawn for a long time. Just as she was secretly halfway through it during the bow, her body suddenly trembled slightly.
When she rose again, the innocent, naive charm in her eyes was gone.
Mu Zhaoran stared blankly at the jade tablet in her hand, then excitedly raised her hand to touch her cheek, confirming that her face was intact.
—She had returned. She had truly returned to the past?!
A secret voice from Yao Gu whispered in her ear, jolting Mu Zhaoran. She desperately suppressed her wildly fluctuating emotions, resisting the urge to look back, and followed the ritual procedures of the sacrifice, reciting the prayers and completing the ceremony.
After the sacrifice, Mu Zhaoran was enfeoffed as the Nanrong Yaoguang Saintess, representing Nanrong to depart for Tiandao Palace to cultivate. Below the altar, the carriage procession for the journey was parked, with soldiers and officers lined up on both sides to escort her, all prepared to set off.
As Mu Zhaoran descended from the altar, she was ushered toward the waiting carriage. The four horses pulling the carriage were tall and majestic, with snow-white coats, golden forehead ornaments gleaming brightly, and soft armor woven with gold threads draped over them. Their manes flowed like drifting clouds.
Behind them, the jade carriage was even more extravagant, adorned with dragons holding jeweled canopies and phoenixes with tassels, resembling a small pavilion, ensuring her comfort and ease on the journey from the Southern Realm to the heavenly capital of the Central Continent.
Mu Zhaoran turned her head and saw her father and mother waving from the city tower. In her previous life, she had left in a sulk and never once looked back at them, so she had never seen their sorrowful, reluctant expressions as they hid their sleeves.
Her eyes stung from the sunlight, and she instinctively took a step toward the city tower, only to be stopped by a general beside her who raised his arm. His tone was firm as he said, “Yaoguang Saintess, the sacrifice is complete. You may only move forward, not turn back.”
Mu Zhaoran held back her tears and turned her head displeased to glare at the speaker. When she saw his face, her pupils involuntarily contracted.
The speaker had a strong jaw and a thick beard, clad in armor and exuding an imposing aura. He was none other than Nanrong’s guardian general, Ye Rong.
Ye Rong naturally understood this little princess’s temperament. She had been raised as Nanrong’s treasure since childhood, and even the king could do little about her. In the past, only he, a general who had weathered the battlefield, could somewhat rein her in.
But in the past, the princess’s fear of him was mostly respect for an authoritative elder, unlike now, where her expression suddenly changed, and her eyes seemed to hold deep-seated hatred.
Ye Rong could not understand where the hatred in her eyes came from. He frowned in confusion, his thick, fierce brows knitting together as his gaze weighed heavily upon her, questioning, “Why does Yaoguang Saintess look at this general in such a way?”
After the sacrifice was completed, he immediately addressed her by her title as Saintess.
According to Nanrong’s old customs, a princess should have been sent to the Sacred Hall to be raised after birth, not allowed to frequently meet her parents, to sever worldly ties.
However, the king above could not bear to part with his daughter and, despite opposition from the courtiers, stubbornly changed the ancestral rites for her, allowing her to grow up as a princess until now, only formally accepting the role of Saintess after the sacrifice.
General Ye also had a beloved daughter, so he could empathize with His Majesty's feelings. When His Majesty sought to reform the rites and encountered opposition, it was General Ye who first expressed his support, silencing many dissenting court officials.
Thus, although Mu Zhaoran had feared him in the past, she also respected him and would never have looked at him with such an expression.
Mu Zhaoran suddenly found herself face-to-face with the man who, in her previous life, had assassinated the emperor, usurped the throne, and killed her father and mother. Overwhelmed by shock and fury, her blood surged, and her heart pounded even more fiercely than the drumbeats on the Altar earlier, reverberating through her mind with a deafening roar. Her thoughts screamed with the urge to kill him—to kill him now, immediately.
Her tense gaze fixed on the sword at Ye Rong's waist. Beneath her sleeves, her fingertips trembled uncontrollably as she fought the impulse to lunge forward, draw the blade, and cut him down right there.
Ye Rong keenly sensed the murderous intent in her eyes and followed her gaze downward.
Just then, a figure suddenly rushed over from the side, stepping between them. First, she bowed respectfully to Mu Zhaoran in a proper curtsy, then looked up and winked at her affectionately, saying, "Please allow me to ride in the same carriage as you, Your Highness."
At the same time, the System's voice echoed in her mind, "See that female lead? This time, you must get along with her lovingly. The System mission officially begins now. I hope the host cherishes this opportunity for reform, clears her sins as soon as possible, reshapes herself, and gains a new life."