She had no idea how long it’d been. When Nana Toki finally came to, the cave mouth was a pool of ink, no moon-sheen at all. Her fingers twitched like fish caught in a net, and in the fog of half-sleep she felt herself pressed to something soft as moss.

Nesting Phoenix?

Her head swam like an old TV swapping channels, faces flickering and dying like fireflies in rain. She shook herself, stared for a beat, then used the campfire’s ember-glow to see who she leaned on. Magpie...

They were within arm’s reach. Nana Toki could hear the other girl’s breathing, steady as tide on a quiet shore.

Asleep?

Warmth tugged at her chest, then worry nipped at it. She meant to get up, slip into her hidden space, and pull out blankets like lifting a quilt of snow. She pushed once, twice—and then realized her body wouldn’t answer. Every muscle felt like a field after hail, all work stopped.

Host, you’re awake!

The System, curled in the corner like a small animal hugging itself for warmth, noticed her first. Nana Toki’s mind floated back like driftwood after a wave.

How long was I out? She let the System’s healing seep in like spring rain, voice weak. The soot on the fire ring told her the System and Blue Magpie had been here a while.

Emm… about a week.

The System’s voice was small, like wind that wouldn’t stir a leaf, afraid to wake the sleeping Blue Magpie. Its look toward Nana Toki was all bright dawn, none of last week’s storm-cloud gloom.

What’s it like outside now? Nana Toki asked again. A week gone in dreams—if they kept stalling, when would they get into the Wildbeast Wasteland proper?

Rest easy, Host. That ancient sword formation outside? This System broke it. If you want, we can leave at first light.

It dropped the bomb like a thunderhead splitting. Nana Toki stared, mind blank as a snowfield.

You broke it? She fixed on the System’s face, disbelief sharp as frost. That formation wasn’t weak, and they’d never even found the core. How?

Well, fortune rides a fair wind, Host. The day you brought Blue Magpie into this cave, this System found the formation core hidden deep inside. Then, as expected, we ruined it. Look—this is a remnant scroll we dug up in the cave. You can see for yourself.

Immortal-Slaughtering Minor Sword Formation?

The half-rolled scroll lay in her hand like a coiled serpent. Shock flared across her face. A thing like this, here in the mortal world?

Immortal-Slaughtering—meant to fell immortals. Even with “Minor” tacked on, it was rare as phoenix feathers in the Immortal and Demon realms. How would the lowest of the Three Realms be holding a thing like this?

Could the Wildbeast Wasteland have seen an immortal-slaying war, ages past? The thought rose like mist off a cold river, unreal, irresistible.

The System tugged the talk back like a kite string.

This System checked the database. The minor formation needs four immortal swords at the four directions to ignite. Our luck was good. This cave held one of them. The other three lost their power to time, like iron rusting in sea air. Only this cave’s sword still had a thread of immortal qi. This System refined that wisp over these days. The outside formation fell apart like ice under sun.

Tsk… one sword with a single wisp of immortal qi left, and the thing still conjured thousands of spirit swords with the strength of Foundation Establishment, third segment. Nana Toki tried to imagine the formation at its peak, whole and roaring, and her mind reeled like a cliff face facing the sea.

…

Since the seal’s broken, we move at dawn and enter the Wildbeast Wasteland.

She didn’t linger on the scroll. The waters it hid ran too deep for a body cultivator at Foundation Establishment, fifth tier. She’d come to the Wasteland for sect trial, not to stir ponds that mirrored the Immortal Realm. If she stuck her hand in, her rotten System would probably throw out some flashy side quest, baited like a hook. Not worth it.

Her main goal was strength. Pure and simple, like steel from the forge.

And to grind down the Protagonist Lord’s plot armor while she’s at it. Everything else? Not her business.

Ah… right. This System forgot something. The System, still channeling healing like warm tea in winter, blinked. We mentioned refining a wisp of immortal qi, yes?

Mm? And?

Ahem… due to certain mechanisms, this System can’t refine it quickly. So, most likely, this System won’t be able to help you fight for quite a long while.

Eh?

Her face froze like a pond under sudden frost. A bad feeling crept up like ants under the skin.

Which means for the next half-year, maybe longer, you’ll be relying on Blue Magpie. When this System finishes refining, we’ll slay enemies for you again.

Nana Toki: …

You’ve got to be kidding me!

Rage slammed into her chest like a drum. She’d dared to come to a place where even the lowest beasts were at the Golden Core Stage because she had a free war asset called the System. Now that “asset” went offline into cocoon mode. And she, a Foundation Establishment, fifth-tier body cultivator, was supposed to shepherd a mascot-level Golden Core through a wasteland where Golden Core beasts strolled like cattle?

That’s a walking invitation to die!

When this plane ends, can I apply to your bargain-bin master to switch Systems?

System: …

Well… Host, don’t worry. This System can’t use Spirit Energy, true, but other functions run fine. The points shop is open. You can buy items and, you know, cheat. How’s that sound?

Heh. Your points shop? Keep that junk on the shelf to gather dust.

So far, she’d only used it once, forced by an irresistible mess. If the trash could drop the shop and give her something actually useful, that’d be real charity.

System: …

Trash System, despised as always.

…

Next dawn.

On the forest rim of the Wildbeast Wasteland, beast roars cracked the air like falling thunder. The shockwaves beat the canopy like storm rain, making any listener’s head swim.

Look close, and you’d see the beasts were chasing someone, black tide after a single boat.

Nana Toki ran in front, cradling Blue Magpie like a bundle of snow, the System strapped to her back like a stubborn pack. House and baggage, sprinting like a deer with hounds on its heels.

Bad luck stuck like wet leaves. With the sword formation gone, the forest’s old denizens woke like snakes in spring. She had barely cleared the cave when she ran into a pack of Golden Core, fourth-segment beasts on the hunt.

They were blood-red nose to tail, leopard-like in build, but bigger—several times an adult leopard, like hills compared to hummocks. Spurs like thorn-vines jutted from their legs. They were quick as lightning over dry grass. She’d been running near half an hour, wind knifing her lungs, and they still clung like shadows. Worse, they were closing, step by step, like dusk eating a field.

Nana Toki eyed the gaping maws behind and wanted to swear a river dry.

One, she could kite with tools and bleed it slow. A whole pack—seven, eight sets of fangs? A Foundation Establishment nobody wasn’t turning to fight.

They’d been starved for who knew how long by that ancient formation. Now the net was gone. They saw living meat. Their Golden Core, fourth-segment demonic qi flared like a bonfire in gale. The pressure rattled the trees to a hiss, and Nana Toki didn’t dare slow a heartbeat.

Damn Plot God, can you be any more vicious?

She wanted to greet Heaven’s ancestors by name.

Then—

ROAR, ROAR, ROAR—!

From ahead, a chain of roars split the sky like meteors. The force slapped her steps askew; she nearly skidded out and ate dirt. If the blood leopards behind hadn’t also staggered, she’d already be scraps on the forest floor.

What now?

Teeth clenched, she glared forward, face dark as stormwater. Some days you don’t read the almanac; even cold water cracks your teeth.