The system noticed he looked unwell and hurried to comfort him: “Host, don’t feel bad. That dancer who fell to her death was an evil person anyway—she took pleasure in disfiguring and skinning others. She was a femme fatale sent by the Empress Dowager herself. In the end, evil meets its own retribution.”

Alice Carter still didn’t speak. The moment he arrived, he saw a figure in red fall from a building—he sobered up instantly. Suppressing his inner irritation, he said, “So you’re telling me I’m supposed to accumulate virtue and resurrect myself by doing good deeds for a tyrant?!”

“Uh.” The system seemed to realize something was off too and fell silent.

Alice Carter laughed. “And you call this accumulating virtue? I’d be lucky not to be dragged down to the eighteenth level of hell for this.”

The system replied awkwardly, “It’s not that bad, not that bad.”

Alice Carter mocked, “Help me look up what kind of packages they offer in the eighteenth level of hell. I’d like to prepare in advance.”

The system tried to reassure him: “Don’t lose heart, host. We can take it slow. You have to remember, in this world, anything can be redeemed.”

Alice Carter said nothing.

The system pressed on: “Anyway, William Clark will die in three months. By then, you’ll take over this body, complete the book’s plot, and the virtue you accumulate will surely offset the sins committed by the original owner.”

Alice Carter sneered, “I’ve read plenty of transmigration novels, but this is the first time I’ve seen someone transmigrate into a body with only three months left to live.”

That really was its fault.

The system fell silent, embarrassed.

Alice Carter was quiet for a moment, then let out a silent laugh: “Also, don’t you think me using someone else’s body to accumulate virtue and resurrect myself is a bit like being a thief?”

The system was stunned, then tried to persuade him guiltily: “Th-that’s not quite right. William Clark is a ruthless killer, moody and unpredictable. You taking over his body is actually ridding the world of a menace.”

Alice Carter hadn’t really wanted to live in the first place, and now he felt even less inclined. He waved his hand, not bothering to argue.

His irritation faded away with the wind and smoke. He said coldly, “Forget it. I don’t want virtue or resurrection. Just send me back already.”

The system was only a one-year-old child. Bringing Alice Carter here had already exhausted it, and now it was panicking even more. It said dryly, “B-but host, you’re already here. Do you really want to give up?”

Alice Carter looked at it indifferently. “You’re the one who forced me to come here.”

The system felt even more aggrieved: “You really don’t want to come back to life?”

Alice Carter glanced at it, his clear eyes pure and clean. He smiled at the system: “Nope. I have no parents, no wife, no children. My will is already written—all donated to the orphanage. You picked the wrong person from the start. Don’t waste time—go find someone else to play out the plot. I need to hurry up and reincarnate.”

The system broke down: “But bringing you here already used up all my energy!”

Alice Carter was taken aback and asked, “…So when will you recover?”

The system was on the verge of tears: “Maybe… half a year.”

Alice Carter nearly coughed up blood: “So I have to be a wandering ghost in this crappy place for half a year?”

System: “Waaah.”

Alice Carter was already numb.

The system wept silently, feeling utterly wronged inside.

It was just a one-year-old baby—why did the world have to be so cruel to it?

It had finally chosen a host and used up all its energy to bring him over, only to get the timing wrong, and the host didn’t even want to follow the plot. Boohoo, why was it so miserable?

On the empty floor of the grand hall, the dancer’s blood and scattered bird feathers still remained.

The system’s sniffling and sobbing sounded even more pitiful.

“I’m sorry, sob sob, it’s all my fault, sob sob sob…”

Alice Carter: “……”

Alice Carter was always soft-hearted. He waved his hand weakly and said, “Alright, alright, I don’t blame you. Everyone I knew in my original world is dead anyway. I’ll just treat this as a half-year vacation in another world.”

The system appeared as a ball of transparent ghostly fire. When it cried, golden teardrops fell down. It shrank back, but still couldn’t give up: “Host, are you really not going to consider following the plot?”

Alice Carter snapped, “Not considering it.”

The system drooped: “Oh.”

But no matter how it thought about it, it just couldn’t accept it. It told itself there were still three months until William Clark died—maybe one day Alice Carter would change his mind.

The system looked at him eagerly again: “I don’t have much time left. Do you want to know about this world’s setting? I mean, you’re already here, after all.”

Its voice was truly pitiful.

Alice Carter felt like he was bullying a child. He thought, since he’d be here for half a year anyway, he might as well listen to a story. Casually, he said, “Fine, go ahead.”

The night wind on the tall building was very chilly, making him shiver. Although the system was just a phantom, it still had senses. Shaking its little flame, it said in a childish voice, “It’s so cold here. C-can we go inside to talk?”

Alice Carter curled his lips, glanced again at the spot where the dancer had fallen, and saw only emptiness and wind. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and dragged the little flame into the palace.

Inside was a dimly lit bedchamber, not as bright and splendid as the grand hall outside.

It was warm and elegant, with incense burning, white smoke curling up from a Boshan censer, winding its way upward.

The eight-panel screen was painted with ink plum blossoms, refined and unique.

The tyrant who had just killed someone sat at the desk, long black hair cascading like a waterfall, white robes trailing on the floor, propping his chin lazily as he flipped through a miscellaneous book.