Dying Is Not an Option—Tell That to My System!

Within the breathtaking realm of Chunhe's spatial farm, a towering male cultivator sat on the grass, his broad shoulders tense, his expression stormy.

At 1.96 meters tall, Chunhe was an imposing figure, his long, silky black hair flowing like cascading ink under the farm's golden sunlight. His deep, watchful eyes, usually calm and unreadable, now burned with silent frustration.

At his side, sprawled out like a defeated general, lay a massive black dog. Big D was covered in dirt, his thick fur ruffled, his tail twitching slightly.

Neither of them acknowledged the other.

Both sported fresh bruises, their bodies battle-worn, yet their expressions screamed of something far worse—wounded pride.

The two sulked in silence, facing opposite directions like quarreling lovers.

Before them, lying upon a bed of Seven-Colored Auspicious Cloud Grass, was a woman of breathtaking beauty.

She was no ordinary woman—she was a flower demon.

Her delicate fingers twitched as she slowly regained consciousness. Long, elegant legs shifted beneath the pink cloak draped over her figure, her movement effortless yet enticing. When her eyes fluttered open, they glowed a mesmerizing pink, reflecting the soft light of the world around her.

She sat up slowly, her gaze sweeping across her surroundings with a mix of awe and confusion. The endless fields of divine plants, the towering Celestial Fox Maple, the Sacred Moon Mulberry pulsing with spiritual essence, the vast waterfall cascading into a shimmering pond where a 10-meter-long koi swam lazily—every sight left her momentarily breathless.

But then, her gaze landed on Chunhe and Big D.

The bruises. The dirt. The… sulking.

Her pink eyes narrowed slightly.

"…What happened to you two?" she asked, her voice lilting with curiosity.

Chunhe exhaled slowly. His fingers twitched, his jaw clenched, his gaze darkened as if recalling an unspeakable tragedy.

"…I didn't want to say anything," he murmured, voice heavy with sorrow. "But since you asked…"

The flower demon tilted her head slightly.

The sky cracked open.

Thunder split the heavens apart, followed by a downpour so heavy it blurred the earth itself. The air twisted, thick The rain smelled The wind howled, not like nature, but like some BEAST. Someone's watching.

then, they came.

"…Seven," he whispered, his tone grave.

She blinked. "Seven?"

Seven figures emerged through the storm, their silhouettes flickering between reality and illusion. Their black robes fluttered, embroidered with symbols that shimmered in the dark. A low, eerie feeling resonated around them—

I felt it before I saw them—Qi pressure crashing down like a mountain, heavy enough to crush bones. My skin prickled. My breath hitched. They weren't normal cultivators. there golden core cultivators.

They came for you."

Thunder BOOMED like the roar of an enraged beast, shaking the heavens. A jagged bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the world in a blinding white before plunging it back into darkness. The wind howled, a ghostly wail that sent chills crawling up the spine, carrying the scent of blood and steel.

Then the dogs arrived.

No. Not dogs. Beasts.

Hulking black dogs, as large as spirit stallions, their razor-sharp claws slicing into the mud with every step. Their fur was sleek and drenched, their eyes burning like crimson red. The deep, guttural growls reverberated through the storm

It was the stuff of nightmares. A scene straight out of a divine tribulation.

Her breath hitched.

That wasn't impossible. After all, she had been hunted—by Nascent Soul cultivators. The fact that someone would send such powerful enemies after her wasn't surprising.

But then—

Chunhe sighed deeply, his face filled with melancholic heroism, and continued.

The flower demon's brow furrowed slightly.

Chunhe's voice dropped even lower, his tone filled with a tragic sense of loss.

One of the men stepped forward, his voice sharp as a blade.

"Move."

I didn'tmove immediately. I couldn't. the girl is behind me, my Qi swirling in resistance against their oppressive force.

The leader's eyes gleamed, slitted like a serpent's. His presence coiled around me, testing, judging. 

I rolled my shoulders, forcing a smirk—poker face, I thought. they would leave

One of the figures flicked his wrist.

A sigil lit up in the air, glowing in crimson and gold. The rain never touched it, sliding around it as if the very world rejected its existence. The next moment—BOOM!—the ground exploded.

A Qi force smashed forward, invisible and absolute. The air distorted. The trees split. The sky darkened further.

I barely dodged.

A slash of wind cut across my cheek. I forced a breath, fingers twitching, calling up the little courage I could muster. But their arts weren't something I had ever seen before—strange, and deadly.

The second man raised his palm, and the very rain itself answered his call.

Water twisted around his fingers, forming slender spears of condensed Qi. They flew for a heartbeat, then shot forward with a high-pitched screech.

I reacted purely on instinct—dodging, barely slipping past the storm of razor-thin projectiles. One grazed my sleeve, and the fabric burned away as if it had been touched by molten lava.

I didn't get a chance to breathe.

The hulking beasts lunged.

One moment, they were yards away—the next, they were on me.

tackle . A shockwave erupted from the impact, sending a violent ripple through the storm.

I should've been dead.

But I wasn't.

I breathed.

Just enough to prepare for the next move.

"With only my mortal body," Chunhe continued, his deep voice trembling with pain, "only my fists."

She stared.

"They came at me all at once," he said, raising a bruised hand dramatically, "seven blades singing in the wind, aiming for my heart, my throat, my soul—but I dodged."

The flower demon, resting against the soft bed of spiritual grass, stared at Chunhe in silence. Her iridescent pink eyes, wide and filled with something unreadable, locked onto his face.

He sat there, posture stiff, jaw clenched. His face—normally calm and unreadable—had taken on the expression of a statue chiseled from iron. Cold. Stern. Unshakable.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

In reality, his lips were twitching. His tongue, for some inexplicable reason, kept rolling slightly, like he was testing if it still worked. His expression was so stiff, so forced, that it looked less like a practiced poker face and more like someone had physically glued it onto him.

The flower demon blinked.

Oh.

OH.

He was lying.

A complete and utter, straight-faced, lightning-infused fabrication.

And yet, it was adorable.

The flower demon's gaze softened as she listened. Not because she believed him, but because it was so painfully obvious he was lying. The way his eyes flickered, the overly dramatic pauses, the subtle pursing of his lips as he spun his tale—it reminded her of a brother weaving a grand story to impress an elder.

She almost wanted to laugh, but instead, an inexplicable warmth filled her chest. It wasn't just amusement—it was something sacred. A strange, inexplicable fondness.

This man—this overgrown child—was sitting there, bruised and sulking, spinning a story so grand, so over-the-top, that it would've made legendary storytellers weep.

And he actually thought she'd believe it.

A soft chuckle bubbled up in her throat, but she held it back. Instead, she merely tilted her head slightly, watching him with an indulgent expression, like a mother listening to a child boast about single-handedly slaying a dragon.

Meanwhile, Big D lay sprawled beside them, 

Chunhe stiffened.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked, feigning ignorance, his "poker face" still firmly in place.

She tilted her head, pink eyes filled with amusement,

She found him adorable.

"I see," she said gently, her voice carrying the kind of patience reserved for indulging small children. "Seven Golden Core cultivators. How terrifying."

Chunhe nodded solemnly, still holding that stiff, unreadable steel mask of his.

"Indeed."

The flower demon hummed, a knowing glint in her eye. "And did Big D help?"

How did you defeat them?

"I shattered their blades with my bare hands, Crushed their cultivation foundations with a single strike. One by one, they fell before me, pleading for mercy."

The flower demon tilting her head. "And then?"

"They begged for forgiveness, but I was merciful. I let them crawl away with their lives. 

the flower demon nodded solemnly.

Big D closed his eyes. If a dog could look like he had given up on life, he did in that moment.

The flower demon let out another soft laugh, shaking her head. "How heroic."

Chunhe nodded again, satisfied with his tale. He had no idea that she saw through him completely. No idea that his so-called 'poker face' was the exact opposite of what he thought it was.

And certainly no idea that she found it unbearably endearing.

The flower demon's eyes sparked though she remained outwardly composed. She reached out, her cool fingers brushing against Chunhe's bruised knuckles. A faint warmth spread from her touch as traces of spiritual energy seeped into his skin, easing the swelling.

Chunhe stiffened slightly.

"There, there," she said lightly. "You worked very hard."

She didn't call him out on it, though. Instead, she reached out and lightly flicked his forehead.

"Alright, hero," she said, voice teasing but warm. "Since you fought off seven Golden Core cultivators, I suppose you've earned some rest."

Chunhe rubbed his forehead, looking slightly wronged, but her words had mollified him. He huffed and leaned back against the grass, arms crossed, sulking but no longer in silence.

Big D, still watching, let out another long, tired exhale.

The flower demon simply smiled, shaking her head. A sacred connection. That's what it was. Something beyond logic. Something inevitable.

She closed her eyes, letting herself relax for the first time in a long while.

Chunhe continued sulking beside her.

Big D, resigned to his fate, finally let his eyes drift shut.

The spatial farm, bathed in golden light, continued its quiet, eternal serenity.