In the corner of a quiet teahouse, the soft clack of porcelain cups was interrupted by light laughter.
Shen Li stared at his empty palms and sighed.
"Well… once again, I lost."
The older merchant across from him grinned, his beard twitching as he scooped up the small pile of coppers between them.
"You've got a good face, Shen. But a terrible bluff."
Shen Li sulked in silence, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea as the merchant across from him chuckled at another win.
These days, there weren't many places a man could truly unwind.Not for someone like him—quiet, calculating, and burdened with knowledge of a future no one else could see.
Sure, he had wealth now. More than most. But wealth without peace was just gilded shackles.
And peace?
Hard to find in a place like this.
There were a few so-called "leisure houses" in the city—places where men and women mingled behind curtains thick with perfume and secrets. But Shen Li never had a taste for those places. Even before he began walking the path of ghosts and futures, the idea of sharing breath with strangers in dim-lit rooms made his skin crawl. Disgusting.
The gambling dens were no better. Flashier, perhaps. Louder. But filthier in their own way.
He'd heard stories—fools who entered laughing and left without shoes.Schemes so layered, even the dice were carved to betray.And behind it all, the Meng family.
So he found himself here again—tea house, corner table, and another quiet afternoon spent playing Empty Hands and Hidden Coins with fellow half-idle men.
No masks. No traps. No whores. Just gossip, tea, and simple games with people who didn't matter enough to betray him.
As Shen Li leaned over the game board, contemplating his next move, the tea house owner shuffled over and interrupted with a low voice.
"Li, I heard your grandfather's fallen ill. What's the situation?"
Shen Li blinked.Black lines crept across his forehead.
"My grandfather?" he repeated flatly. "I'm not from the Shen family."
He raised his cup and took a measured sip, trying to smooth over the irritation in his voice.
"My bloodline comes from far beyond this little county," he added casually—truth buried in the phrasing.After all, how could a transmigrator have any relatives here?
Mo Beng, the owner, scratched his balding head. "Ah, that makes sense now. I did wonder… a Shen family member turning merchant? That felt strange."
"Is that so?" Shen Li muttered, feigning mild curiosity. "So, what's happening with the Shen family these days? Last I heard, they managed most of the medical halls in the county."
Mo Beng nodded. "Still true. There are only two main medical families in the city—Shen and the Wus. Between them, they run over half the clinics. The Shen name carries weight."
Shen Li leaned back. "I heard the old patriarch got hurt. Some say it was during a dispute… something involving bandits?"
"Yeah, that's what people are saying," Mo Beng confirmed, lowering his voice. "Apparently when trouble came knocking, the old man wasn't where he was supposed to be. Got caught off guard—beaten half to death. They say he's in a coma now."
"Hmph," Shen Li grunted. "And the governor? Shen family has long had ties with some shady groups. Is Shin Yamo making any moves?"
Mo Beng laughed grimly. "Governor Shin doesn't move against people he might need later. If he ever takes a sword to the gut, who's going to treat him? Better to keep the doctors on your side."
The conversation drifted to silence.
After some more idle chatter, Shen Li stood and made his way back home.
His newly rented property was still under renovation—stone reinforcements being added to the walls, subtle trap mechanisms being installed in the floorboards and narrow corridors.
It would take weeks to finish.
Shen Li stepped into the kitchen, the faint scent of herbs and cooked meat still lingering in the air. With practiced ease, he ladled out a bowl of chicken soup—simple, hearty, and warm.
As he sipped slowly, he gazed out the small window, watching the clouds shift over the distant forest hills.
"Troublesome times are coming," he muttered to himself.
Today marked his seventeenth birthday.
And with it, a silent bell had rung—the beginning of the year when bandits would start using wildfire to evade the governor's pursuit. Shen Li knew what that meant. Chaos. Smoke. Blood. The tipping point of the county's downfall had begun.
He finished the last of his soup and quietly rinsed the bowl.
Then, without a word, he returned to his sleeping chamber.
Instead of lying down, he folded his legs atop the mat, closed his eyes, and assumed a meditative posture. He didn't circulate qi—he had none. But the mental practice was his own. Stillness. Breath. Preparation.
He let the tension drain from his muscles… allowed his mind to settle.
And when his spirit was steady—
He opened his eyes.
"System," he whispered."Open the simulation panel."
Name: Shen LiRace: HumanAge: 17Lifespan: 17 / 159
[Awaiting Input…]
[Simulation Initiated – 10-Year Timeline]
Shen Li exhaled slowly and entered his command.
This time, he set the simulation to run for 10 years.
Not because he believed he would survive that long—But because he had a theory.
He had been nourishing his soul bit by bit with every reward, every refinement.Now, even in death, his ghost form might endure.
If things went wrong—if he died early—then as always, he'd adapt.Worst case?
He'd drag a few dying donkeys under the open sky, slaughter them
[Simulation Initializing: 10-Year Timeline]
You knew what was coming. This year, the bandits would set the forest ablaze to cover their retreat. It wouldn't be a small fire—it would rage for weeks, disrupt the entire region, and cripple supply chains.]
[So you made your move early.]
[Quietly, you began stockpiling dry firewood and coal. Wagon after wagon, stack by stack. While others prepared for winter, you prepared for opportunity.]
[Then the fires came.]
[The forest was sealed by official decree—no one allowed in or out. Woodcutting stopped. Coal miners were pulled out. Prices soared by 30% in days.]
[You didn't sell a single piece.]
[People began to panic. With winter closing in and the fires still raging, warmth became more valuable than silver. That's when you struck.]
[The wildfire burned for over a month, becoming a county-wide crisis. With only one month left before winter, panic began to spread among the population.]
[Before the announcement that the fire was finally under control, you began to release your stockpile into the market, perfectly timed.]
[Your calculated timing shocked many. Rumors swirled: some believed you had contacts within the bandits, others thought you were working with the government. A few even suspected both.]
[But no one dared confront you openly. Your precision was too terrifying.]
[You sold every last log and sack of coal at peak price.]
[Your total savings reached 149 gold coins – an amount equivalent to a mid-tier noble family's annual income.]
[You knew your latest move would draw attention. That kind of flawless timing—buying when no one thought to, selling when the panic peaked—was bound to provoke curiosity.]
[But this time, you didn't care.]
[You were ready.]
[In the days that followed, you officially established yourself as a full-fledged merchant. The name of your organization? Golden Winged Centipede—a name no one would forget.]
[Your merchant token was blood-colored: a thin, golden centipede with outstretched wings.]
[Old Shen—patriarch of the Shen family, one of the two dominant medical clans in the region—had awakened from his coma. The same coma he'd been in since the bandit incident months ago.]
[Apparently, the moment he regained consciousness, he discovered that his treasured desk had been replaced. And not just any desk—one with a hidden compartment that held the Shen family's famed technique: the Thirty-Four Silver Needle Method.]
[The younger generation, thinking to redecorate so they had sold the desk as scrap.]
[The family was thrown into chaos. Fortunately, they tracked the buyer down and bought it back—paying ten times the original price. Only then did Old Shen calm down.]
[Only the heir to the Shen family is allowed to learn it. Not even other family members have the right. That kind of restriction made it clear: next time, if such an opportunity arose again… you'd be the one to claim it.]
[But while you planned, you also sensed eyes.]
[You were being watched.]
[You came to a decision—some factions watching you couldn't be reasoned with.]
[Only Governor Shin remained cautious. He still hadn't figured out your true background. As long as that mystery lingered, he would hesitate.]
[But Gao Lupeng and the bandit factions? You couldn't stop them directly. Instead, you decided to let them clash.]
[You learned the truth: bandit forces were watching you closely.]
[You had profited—perhaps not as blatantly as the top families who dealt with them under the table, but still enough to raise suspicion.]
[Your gains were too consistent. Too well-timed.]
[In their eyes, the only explanation was that you had a mole among their high-ranking members—someone feeding you intel.]
[You didn't, of course.]
[But it didn't matter. Perception was enough.]
[You began quietly planting men within Gao Lupeng's circle.]
[By the end of the year, Gao came to you in person.]
He stared across the teahouse table, voice cold."Shen Li. What's your involvement with the bandits?"
You offered a half-smile, feigning innocence."I only invested where the top families and you invested, Brother Gao. I merely followed your lead."
His expression didn't change—but his silence spoke volumes.
You knew in that moment: he had signed your death warrant.
[You didn't wait.]
[Knowing his ties with the bandits, you launched Operation Gao Lupeng's Fall.]
[Your spies contacted ambitious low-level officials, delivering "evidence"—a forged letter bearing Gao's seal.]
[The letter listed bandit strongholds, their supplies, and even a secret copper mine under their control.]
[The information wasn't baseless. It was pulled from your simulation's future timeline.]
[Governor Shin acted immediately. Scouts were dispatched the same day.]
[But you knew it wasn't enough. Time was short.]
[So you began spreading rumors of Gao Lupeng's 'heroic plan'—to fool everyone into believing he was secretly cleaning out the bandits.]
You barely slept that night.
At dawn, the governor himself rode out with a personal retinue.
[That same day, bandits did not attack.]
[Instead, Gao Lupeng tightened his defenses, burning through his silver to hire guards.]
[He had figured it out. He knew you were the one who moved against him.]
[But he didn't act.]
[Why? Because news soon came: Governor Shin had been gravely injured, though many bandits were slain.]
[The top leaders had escaped.]
[In response, Gao flipped his allegiance publicly—pro-government, vocal, loyal.]
[He even gave up three hidden bandit camps you hadn't uncovered.]
You stared at the reports.
Cunning. Calculated. Dangerous.
He's pretending to move on… But he'll strike back one day.
[You had already drained much of your wealth hiring guards, knowing revenge could come at any time.]
[Still, you prepared one more strike.]
[A preemptive invasion—costly, but necessary.]
[Yet the heavens had other plans.]
[Before you could act, the bandits struck first.]
[Gao's estate was hit hard. Blood flowed like rivers. Though he barely repelled the attack, many of his men perished.]
[You seized the moment.]
[While his forces were weakened and morale shattered, you ordered your final assault.]
[It was brutal. Costly. But fate smiled.]
[Though Gao's side resisted with wounded ferocity—one arrow found its mark.]
[It struck Gao Lupeng in his third leg.]
[A crippling wound. One from which even the most venomous snakes do not recover.]
[He survived… but as a broken man.]
[He would never rise again.]
[You were satisfied.]
[Though you had failed to eliminate Gao Lupeng completely, turning him into a eunuch was a fate worse than death in your eyes.]
[You believed it was enough.]
[But satisfaction is the beginning of carelessness.]
[Three months passed.]
[Gao Lupeng made no move. No assassins. No schemes. No provocations.]
[You lowered your guard.]
[You began to believe the wound had broken his spirit completely.]
[Life returned to routine.]
[Your tea house visits resumed. You laughed again. You began planning your next steps.]
[It was in this calm that the dagger came.]
It was Pian Kobek who knocked on your door that day.
A familiar face. A trusted hand. A carrier. A quiet man who once gave you a discounted wage.
You welcomed him in.
"I have something urgent," he said.
He handed you a sealed letter.
You broke the wax.
Inside—something gleamed.
A flash of steel.
Before you could recoil, it was already buried in your abdomen.
[Two of your second-grade guards rushed in, subduing Pian Kobek.]
[The wound wasn't deep, but blood loss came fast.]
[Pian was dragged out and interrogated.]
[His story came quickly—his wife and child had been kidnapped by Gao Lupeng.]
[He was promised their safety if he stabbed you.]
[You turned him over to the city officials.]
[Then, called for a doctor.]
[The doctor stitched the wound. Left.]
[But the fever didn't break.]
[Your skin burned. Your lips dried. Sweat soaked your sheets.]
[Then came the coughing—deep, rattling. You coughed up blood.]
[Later, came bile.]
[Your condition worsened.]
[You summoned Old Shen.]
He examined you carefully. His brows furrowed.
"You have been poisoned," he said gravely.
[You showed him the dagger.]
[He studied it under candlelight.]
"No," he said. "There's no venom on this. The blade was clean."
[He looked at you closely.]
"This was administered by food… or drink. Someone close to you. Someone trusted."
[You asked if he could cure it.]
He shook his head.
"I can ease the pain… delay the inevitable. But you have days at most."
[The next day…]
[You collapsed.]
[Your body convulsed. Blood came from both ends.]
[Your organs… began to fail.]
[In your final moments, your eyes scanned the room. Searching. Wondering.]
Who poisoned me?
[But you never found out.]
[Death Event: Body Collapsed]