Chapter 1

Shen Qing had transmigrated, into The Monster-Hunting Chronicles, as the venomous supporting girl who loved the male lead but could never win him.
The book wrote:
“When she was young, Shen Qing was saved by the male lead, Liu Jiyue. From that moment on, her heart was his. For Liu Jiyue, she committed every wicked deed, framing the heroine, driving a wedge between them, until she finally died by the sword of the heroine’s admirer, Li Daoxuan.”
And Shen Qing truly lived out that tragic line of fate: despised by all, disappointing the man she adored, and ultimately ending her life skewered through the heart by Li Daoxuan.
Up until the moment she died, she had no idea she was inside a book. She thought she had simply been reborn into a fantastical world of demon hunters.
Ruins burned. Night shadows wavered.
Puchi,
Being run through by a sword was every bit as agonizing as one might imagine. Shen Qing crumpled to her knees, spitting blood. In her obsidian eyes, flames flickered across broken walls, and a youth in crimson robes stood outlined against the firelight.
His silhouette sharpened in her vision: sword in hand, poised above her like a judge delivering a final sentence. The blade was her own, its tip still dripping warm blood. Her blood.
In the darkness, the youth shed all pretenses. What remained was selfishness, cold detachment, and in his eyes, a hatred so palpable it nearly burned.
A ragged breath rasped from Shen Qing’s throat, thick with blood. His strike had skewered her slightly off-center, sparing her life for a few brief moments. She still had enough strength to glare at him, though the pain in her chest made speaking impossible.
Hatred and unwillingness churned through her gaze like a storm.
The flames mirrored in her eyes as she watched him strip off his black leather gloves. His bare hands, pale in the moonlight, elegant as carved porcelain, lifted to wipe the blood from his lips with a slow, contemptuous swipe.
His voice was frost.
“Had I known how deeply you deceived me, I should’ve killed you long ago.”
Shen Qing let out a low, mocking laugh.
After a long moment, she raised her eyelids, lips faintly moving as though to speak.
He leaned in, trying to catch her words.
But in the next instant, Shen Qing seized the collar of his robes, dragging him closer with the last of her strength.
Their noses nearly brushed.
Li Daoxuan’s thick lashes cast a shadow over his eyes. “Struggling at death’s door is useless.”
Shen Qing smiled.
Is it?
She spat a mouthful of heart’s blood. Light flared violently around them, the array hidden beneath her feet roared to life.
Invisible hands seemed to seize their ankles. Li Daoxuan realized, too late, that he could no longer move. His gaze slashed toward her.
Shen Qing’s smile turned triumphant. She pressed a hand to the back of his head, forcing him closer until their lips met, erasing the last inch between them.
From afar, they might have looked like lovers embracing in the firelight. In truth, Li Daoxuan, rigid with fury, bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood.
But compared to being stabbed through the heart, the pain was nothing. Shen Qing tightened her grip, determined to force her heart’s blood down his throat.
His lips stayed pressed shut. So she tickled him.
He flinched and, reflexively, opened his mouth in a sharp inhale.
Shen Qing immediately delivered the blood into him.
Then she shoved him away and wiped her mouth with a vicious swipe.
He would have done the same, but the array left him frozen in place. Shen Qing picked up the Autumn Blade, the sword he’d dropped during their fight, and oh-so-politely dragged its edge across his lips, marking him. At once, his blood dripped into the glowing formation, mixing with hers.
Her hair hung in disheveled waves; her eyes gleamed with the wild brightness of a madwoman.
“If I can’t live,” she said with a manic smile, “then you can die with me.”
Li Daoxuan snarled, “Mad dog.”
She replied sweetly, “Takes one to know one.”
Then, bracing her failing body, she positioned the blade over his chest.
“Returning the favor,” she murmured and drove the sword straight through his heart.
“You couldn’t even strike a vital point when I stood still,” she mocked. “All those years of sword training wasted. Let me show you what a real heart-piercing strike looks like.”
He grunted softly. Staring at the blade buried in his chest, he lifted his gaze to her. For a moment, just a moment, something turbulent surged in his eyes. His mouth opened, as if he wanted to speak.
But he swallowed it all down with blood, eyes reddening to a frightening degree.
“You’re awfully stingy,” Shen Qing said lightly. “It’s just one stab in return, no need to get furious until your eyes turn red.”
As the light in his gaze dimmed, satisfaction flashed through her. Her body finally gave out; she collapsed, clutching her pierced heart.
She toppled straight into Li Daoxuan’s arms.
Wonderful. Even in death, she had to fall on him.
Leaning against his rigid chest, she slowly closed her eyes, waiting for the array to claim them both.
But the man still had one breath left. Perhaps out of spite, or to disgust her one last time, he seized her chin and crushed his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss.
Shen Qing’s brow twitched. She lacked the strength to fight him off.
Fine, she thought. Let the damn dog have his bite.
His lips finally fell still.
She rolled her eyes to confirm he’d died. Satisfied, she let her own consciousness fade.
Beneath them, their mingled heart’s blood filled the engraved lines of the formation. Gold and crimson intertwined in a brilliant flash until, at last, the runes sank into the earth.
Flames licked the sky. The inferno swallowed their entwined bodies, covering and burying all traces.
A blood sacrifice…in exchange for a second life.
When Shen Qing opened her eyes again, she was seventeen, and the tardy system finally arrived.
She was sitting before a bronze mirror, admiring her reflection: black hair, red lips, bright almond eyes that curved sweetly at the corners, a springtime beauty in full bloom. A maid gently combed her glossy hair with a sandalwood comb.
Then, for some reason, Shen Qing’s tapping finger stilled. She dismissed the maid and stared quietly into the mirror.
A moment later, as if hearing delightful news, she burst into laughter, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.
“So you’re saying I transmigrated into a book?” She pointed at her reflection. “And I’m the vicious supporting character? And Li Daoxuan is the second male lead, and the villain?”
“Yes, Host,” 001 replied nervously. Something about this host felt… off.
The main system had arranged for Shen Qing to be reincarnated at birth. 001 assumed it was only seventeen years late. In truth, it was far too late, its host had lived an entire lifetime without it.
And what 001 did not know was this: its host was no longer the confused, bright-eyed girl who had just crossed into a new world.
“What task are you giving me?” Shen Qing asked lazily, admiring her pale, jewel-smooth fingers.
In her previous life, she practiced swordsmanship endlessly, trying to keep up with Liu Jiyue, to avenge the Shen family. Her hands had been covered in calluses, cracked and bleeding in winter.
This time, she planned to cherish her body.
As for swords? She was done with them.
“The mission,” the system said, “is to win over the second male lead, Li Daoxuan. Reach one hundred affection points to succeed. After that, you may return home.”
The room had been quiet for a rare moment before Shen Qing finally asked, incredulous,
“...Who did you say?”
“The second male lead, Li Daoxuan.”
001 continued earnestly, “Because Li Daoxuan’s plans were sabotaged by the villainess Shen Qing, he eventually blackened and committed a series of uncontrollable actions. This, in turn, severely affected the male lead’s likability rating, and the relationship between the hero and heroine.”
“The real-world author couldn’t continue the story after that point, so the novel simply… stopped updating. Which means that after the second male lead collapsed, the world itself began to collapse. Host, your mission is to successfully conquer Li Daoxuan and prevent that collapse at its root.”
In short, the system wanted her to “reform” Li Daoxuan, prevent his villain arc, and force the novel toward a happy ending.
The moment Shen Qing thought of that wretched man, her expression darkened. She restrained the urge to flip the table. With a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she asked,
“So as long as Li Daoxuan’s affection reaches one hundred… you people can get lost?”
001, oblivious to the trap, answered cheerfully, “Yes, Host. Once the strategy is complete, the system will automatically detach from this world. Whether you return to the real world or remain here is your choice.
“Given that the Host died in her previous life while trying to save someone, you were selected for this program. Of course, you retain the right to refuse.”
Shen Qing had died pulling a young girl out from under a truck. The driver fled, the girl survived. Shen Qing did not.
The girl’s family hurried away with their child, never once looking at Shen Qing’s broken, bloodied body on the ground. The street was empty; no one called for help. She bled out slowly, painfully, alone.
Shen Qing asked lightly, “And if I refuse?”
“Your consciousness will dissolve. Perhaps your soul will reincarnate, but we cannot guarantee anything.”
Her lashes lowered. With one fingertip, she traced three characters onto the vanity table: Li Daoxuan.
She had fought tooth and nail to earn this second life, how could she allow some so-called system to strip that chance away?
After a moment, she exhaled. “Fine. I’ll accept.”
The system only required the affection bar to reach one hundred. It never said how she was supposed to conquer him. Which left her… room to maneuver.
“Ding, Pairing complete. Transmitting plot data.”
The entire storyline of The Monster-Hunting Chronicles flashed through her mind. The villainess Shen Qing’s history was nearly identical to her own past life.
Only her memories were sharper, deeper, more detailed than anything written in the novel.
The book said:
Shen Ling, a gentle, frail girl from a distant branch of the Shen clan, survived the destruction of her household during a monster attack. Liu Jiyue, happening to pass by, defeated the demon and brought the orphaned girl back to Xuanji Pavilion.
Pure-hearted, tender Shen Ling quickly won everyone’s affection, becoming their new “little junior sister.” Meanwhile, Shen Qing, the original and once-only female disciple, was no longer unique. Envy festered; she schemed against Shen Ling again and again.
Yet every crisis was averted, sometimes by Shen Ling’s unexpected resourcefulness, sometimes by Liu Jiyue’s intervention. After Shen Qing’s repeated attempts, the pavilion disciples only pitied the orphan girl more, while their attitude toward Shen Qing grew increasingly strained.
The final turning point: the heroine risked her life to save a gravely wounded Liu Jiyue but was intercepted halfway by Shen Qing, who nearly stole credit for the rescue.
When her plan failed, Shen Qing snapped and stole a precious artifact the heroine had worn for years, the Glass Heart.
It was said to be her late mother’s relic. After binding to its owner, the artifact nourished the wearer’s qi and body. The spiritual essence within the stone tempered one’s cultivation.
Using some crude trick she acquired, Shen Qing forced the artifact to recognize a new master with her own blood. All the spiritual essence Shen Ling had preserved for years was drained dry in an instant. The Glass Heart became nothing more than a dead stone.
And with that, she had ruined Li Daoxuan’s plan entirely.
He had embedded himself at Shen Ling’s side solely to ensure she willingly offered the Glass Heart to him.
But now that the artifact was destroyed, his plans collapsed. So he stepped out of the shadows and killed the villainess Shen Qing with a single stroke in Xuanji Pavilion.
The novel ended there, likely where the author abandoned the project.
Her mind replayed her death: the youth’s cold, disdainful smile, the unmasked malice in his eyes.
She regretted not having the strength to stab him several more times.
Then another thought struck her: if she hadn’t died that day, perhaps she would have lived long enough to see the disappointment in Liu Jiyue’s gaze when he returned. After all, she had destroyed the relic left by the heroine’s mother. Shen Ling had cried miserably at the time.
A wicked thought wormed through her mind:
I am Liu Jiyue’s closest junior sister, the one who has been with him the longest. And Shen Ling dares covet my senior brother simply because she’s the heroine?
She hated that she hadn’t dragged Shen Ling down with her when she died. A useless girl who could only cry, how did she deserve to stand beside her senior brother?