Watching the corpses of those righteous sect disciples dissolve entirely into wisps of blue smoke, Lin Nan felt a wave of panic.

Everything had spiraled out of control within just a few minutes—ever since she dodged that sneak-attack crossbow bolt. She hadn’t even processed what was happening.

For some reason, this new body of hers seemed to possess incredibly sharp reflexes. Her movements felt instinctive, as if deeply ingrained through years of habit—no conscious thought required. One moment the archer was alive; the next, his neck was clamped in her grip like a helpless chick, suspended helplessly in midair.

Her first skill, “Black Snow,” was directly tied to her Aloofness Points. Once Aloofness exceeded 100, black-and-white snowflakes would begin falling from the sky. The higher her Aloofness, the darker the snow became—shifting toward pure black—and her base stats received a bonus ranging from 1% to 30%.

Additionally, two automatic abilities would trigger:

Skill 1: Instantly teleport to the first enemy who damages you (or intends to), dealing massive damage. There’s a 20% chance of an instant kill—methods may include strangulation, throat-piercing, decapitation, or bisecting. Upon success, gain +50 Aloofness Points.

Skill 2: Once the snow turns completely black, the flakes harden like diamonds, capable of inflicting ranged damage when combined with other techniques.

That’s precisely why the unfortunate archer had been obliterated instantly.

Lin Nan had never intended to fight an entire group. Back in Overlord, she’d been a legendary female sword immortal—but only after grinding levels and mastering techniques! Never had she been thrown into battle right after spawning, completely disoriented and surrounded by a massive mob.

After she executed the archer, the entire group swarmed toward her like a tidal wave.

It looked like there was no peaceful resolution.

Fine. If she died, she died. At worst, she’d respawn and try again. She figured these disciples would soon realize this place was barren and leave.

But just then—a crimson notification flashed in her mind:

“Warning: If your character dies, you cannot revive. Your account may be permanently deleted by the system.”

What?!  
Why couldn’t her character respawn like everyone else’s?

The thought of losing all those rare, top-tier items she’d been carrying made her heart ache. Without even knowing their true worth, how could she bear to lose them forever?

Fine. If push came to shove, she’d fight these pests herself. If she lost, so be it.

But to her surprise, these supposedly formidable righteous disciples weren’t nearly as tough as she’d feared. The moment her Blackwind Sword left its scabbard, every single one of them froze in terror—so frightened that her Aloofness Points surged again.

That sudden spike accelerated the snow’s darkening process. Combined with the full stat bonus from her Black Cloud Gown, her skill power nearly multiplied by 1.5 times.

Then came “Phantom Sea.”

From the very earth, legions of undead erupted, weaving through shards of black snow—now hard as diamond yet impossibly light. Anyone who dared challenge her was annihilated in an instant.

Only when every opponent had vanished into blue smoke—whisked back to the respawn point—did Lin Nan finally snap out of her battle trance.

Ding! You have slain 108 disciples of Thousand-Bird City.  
+3,000 EXP.  
Your level has increased to 5.  
Skills “Black Snow,” “Drifting Wind,” and “Phantom Sea” have all advanced to Level 2.

…Wait.

Was she really walking further and further down the irreversible path of the villain?

But it wasn’t even her fault! She’d only wanted to leave quietly. They attacked first—she merely responded in self-defense…

“System,” she pleaded, “can I recreate my character? This one wasn’t my choice at all! And can I carry over my level? Look, I worked hard for these few EXP points!”

Silence.

The system remained utterly unresponsive.

Typical. It only spoke when it felt like it—and pretended to be dead the moment she had questions.

Frustrated, Lin Nan stomped her foot.

“–10 Aloofness Points.”  
“–10 Aloofness Points.”  
“All you do is deduct my Aloofness! Why won’t you ever answer me?!”  
“–20 Aloofness Points.”  
“…“

> “Warning: Your Aloofness has dropped to the critical threshold of 100. Your passive talent is about to deactivate.”

Instantly, Lin Nan snapped her face back into icy composure.

As a die-hard gamer, how could she possibly abandon hard-earned EXP so carelessly?

Fine. If being aloof meant keeping her stats—and her rewards—she’d play the ice queen for the rest of eternity.

But now that she’d (temporarily) accepted her current role… what next?

She checked the time. She’d only been in-game for a little over an hour. With nearly seven hours left before the mandatory logout, she might as well explore. Maybe there was a village or town at the mountain’s base—somewhere to kill time.

Just then, a system alert appeared:

“Alert: The leadership of Thousand-Bird City has learned of your whereabouts. Ten inner sect disciples have been dispatched to investigate. You must remain hidden for the next five hours. If discovered, consequences will be severe. Survive until the timer ends, and you’ll be rewarded with +10 base Aloofness.”

Base Aloofness? That meant her Aloofness could never drop below zero—no matter how many mistakes she made. That was an excellent reward indeed.

True to habit, Lin Nan’s first thought was the reward. Only afterward did she reread the task details carefully.

And that’s when she noticed the key phrase: “inner sect disciples.”

What did “inner sect disciples” signify in a cultivation sect?

They were the backbone of the sect—the future stars. Every cultivator who broke into the inner sect possessed extraordinary talent and ironclad willpower. Otherwise, how could they possibly be deemed worthy of such elite status?

In-game, inner sect elites could be either NPCs or high-level players. Based on Overlord experience, they typically started at Level 30 or above.

And she? She was only Level 5.

No wonder the system had warned her.

If she got killed now, all that hard-earned EXP would vanish—wasted.

What should she do? She absolutely did not want another fight with righteous disciples—especially when she was guaranteed to lose based on levels alone.

---

Meanwhile, atop a ten-meter-wingspan immortal crane, ten or so white-robed youths sat calmly.

Though appearing youthful, each had cultivated for over forty years. Thanks to the age-defying effects of their cultivation arts, they looked no older than twenty.

The one who had just spoken was Luo Xiu—thin-framed with an unusually large forehead, giving him a slightly top-heavy appearance.

His senior brother, Gongsun Ding, sat at the front—handsome, dignified, and radiating charisma. With legs crossed and long hair whipping in the wind, he faced forward without flinching.

“You understand nothing,” Gongsun Ding said coolly. “For decades, no demonic cultivator within a hundred li of Thousand-Bird City has dared to slaughter our outer sect disciples so brazenly. This woman clearly scorns our sect. The Sect Master sends us not just to investigate—but to make an example. Do you think Thousand-Bird disciples are playthings for outsiders to trample?”

Luo Xiu nodded hastily. “Senior Brother is absolutely right.”

He then turned toward the trembling figure at the rear—Tang Tong—and sneered, “Hey, kid, you’ve struck gold today. Without this incident, a mere outer sect disciple like you—barely qualified for inner sect trials—would never get to ride our sect’s immortal beast.”

“…”

Tang Tong was visibly suffering from severe acrophobia. Even though he knew it was just a game—and falling wouldn’t actually kill him—the sight of villages shrinking into tiny models beneath the clouds made him want to squeeze his eyes shut. Yet this annoying NPC, Luo Xiu, kept chattering in his ear.

But what could he do? Luo Xiu was a Level 30 inner sect NPC. Tang Tong was just a Level 5 outer disciple. If he wanted to stay in Thousand-Bird City, he’d better keep his mouth shut and smile.

“You’re absolutely right—I’ve stumbled upon great fortune…” Tang Tong muttered through gritted teeth.

In his livestream, viewers were howling with laughter.

“OMG, look at ‘Leveling Maniac’ forcing a smile while clearly dying inside! That face is going straight into the Meme Hall of Fame!”  
“Haha, serve you right for bumping into a hidden boss! Now the Sect Master’s furious and dragged you along as a witness!”  
“How can a cultivator be scared of heights? What if you learn Flying Sword Technique later—will you just plummet the moment you leave the ground?”  
“But can these inner sect disciples actually beat the hidden boss? I heard Gongsun Ding is only Level 50.”  
“Only 50?! That’s already insane!”  
“But didn’t you guys say the boss is at least Level 80 because she can teleport?”  
“Hard to say. This is Dao Quest, not Overlord. Besides, their mission is just to investigate the Spider Cave—not to exterminate the boss. These NPCs aren’t that reckless.”

Despite his fear of heights, Tang Tong was secretly thrilled. After being demoted back to Level 5 by that female boss, he’d been crushed. Now, he had a chance for redemption—and maybe even scavenge some EXP to climb back to Level 10. That’s exactly why he’d eagerly volunteered to accompany the inner sect as the sole eyewitness.

If only this crane weren’t flying so terrifyingly high, his expression would’ve been pure joy.

On foot, the journey from Thousand-Bird City to the Spider Cave on Wuyun Mountain would take a full day. But aboard the immortal crane, they spotted the mist-shrouded peaks in less than the time it took to burn an incense stick.

Gongsun Ding rose to his feet and declared in a ringing voice, “Brothers, the demoness may still be inside the Spider Cave. Since we don’t know her true strength, proceed with extreme caution. The moment you locate her, send the signal immediately. Do not engage—lest you fall into her trap.”

The disciples chorused in unison: “Understood!”