Jin Yu died choking on instant noodles.
Not exactly the heroic end he'd imagined for himself, but after staying up three nights editing a bloated 500-chapter cultivation novel, maybe he deserved it. His last conscious thought had been: Why the hell does this author hate happy endings?
Then—blackness.
And now—this.
He opened his eyes to unfamiliar light streaming through gauzy curtains. The air smelled of sandalwood, tinged with something sharper—like ozone. He blinked, groggy, and tried to sit up.
Only to find two swords pressed against his neck.
A pair of cold, expressionless young men in light-blue robes stared down at him. Their sect insignia glowed faintly on their chests: Cloud Piercing Sect.
Jin Yu froze. "Uh... hi?"
"You dare pretend ignorance?" one of the disciples snapped. "After drugging Elder Mo and trying to steal his Heaven-Merging Pill?!"
Wait. What?!
Jin Yu's thoughts spun. Drugging? Stealing pills? He looked down—pale, delicate hands. Long fingers. Silken inner robes with golden trim. Not his body.
He scrambled to remember the title: thread of fate: the villain's second life, hat ridiculous title. The male lead was a cold genius named Li Feng, destined to rise alone after betrayal.
Jin Yu had edited it. Criticized it. And now... he was in it?
And then it clicked. The name in the accusation. "Elder Mo. Heaven-Merging Pill." The real villain who tried to drug him was—Jin Yue—a minor cannon fodder villain. Useless, jealous, and dead by Chapter 20.
And now Jin Yu was in his body.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding," he said carefully, trying not to swallow against the sharp blade. "I've had... head trauma. I don't even remember who I am."
The disciples sneered. "You'll remember at the punishment hall."
Before he could argue, a cold breeze swept through the room, and the sword tips instantly dropped. The two disciples knelt with trembling hands.
Jin Yu turned slowly.
A tall figure in black robes stood at the door, sunlight catching on the silver threads woven through his sleeves. His eyes were sharp, like polished obsidian, and his face was stunning—beautiful and terrifying all at once.
Li Feng.
The male lead. The cold genius. The walking death-glare.
Jin Yu's breath caught. He knew this scene. In the original story, Li Feng arrived just in time—to watch Jin Yue dragged away and mock him coldly.
But instead, Li Feng frowned. His gaze locked on Jin Yu, a flicker of confusion crossing his normally emotionless face.
"…You're not him," Li Feng murmured. "Your aura—it's... different."
Well. That's not ominous at all, Jin Yu thought.
Then Li Feng turned to the guards. "Leave. I'll handle him."
They hesitated, but obeyed. The door clicked shut behind them.
Li Feng stepped closer.
Jin Yu backed up until he hit the wall. "Listen, I don't know what plot point this is, but I really don't want to die yet."
The corner of Li Feng's lips twitched. Almost—almost—a smirk.
"Interesting," he said softly. "You're not the Jin Yue I remember."
Jin Yu exhaled. "Well, I'm definitely not the one who tried to drug an elder and steal a pill."
Li Feng tilted his head. "Then who are you?"
Jin Yu swallowed. "I... don't know yet. But if this is a story—I'm going to change how it ends."
For a second, silence hung between them. Then Li Feng turned away.
"Very well," he said. "Then let's see how long you survive."