Chapter 1: Humiliated, She Awakens the System

Rainy night. Thunder rolled across the sky like a set of drums.

The main gate of the Lin residence stood wide open, rainwater dripping from the door lint down to the ground, pooling into a muddy stream. Shen Zhan stood at the threshold, flanked by a woman dressed in luxurious silk. Both of them were bone-dry and immaculate, a stark contrast to the squalid mess surrounding them. Shen Zhan casually flicked the marriage contract onto the ground at Lin Wan’s feet. The paper soaked up the muddy water instantly, the ink bleeding and smearing across the page.

Shen Zhan looked down at Lin Wan with a gaze so disdainful it made the air feel cold. “Lin Wan, take this scrap of paper and get out of the Shen Family. The Shen Martial Arts Academy is at the height of its power now, and you? You’re nothing but a waste who can’t even condense a drop of inner qi. This marriage was never good enough for me, Shen Zhan. Not for a step.”

The woman covered her nose and mouth, shaking her sleeve as if she had just touched something filthy.

Lin Wan didn’t cry. She didn’t drop to her knees or beg like everyone expected. She just watched the waterlogged contract in silence. There was no despair in the depths of her eyes; instead, a strange, abnormal calmness shone through. Slowly, she bent down to pick up the marriage contract. Her movements were so elegant it looked like she was handling a precious treasure, not a humiliation.

Seeing that she still wasn’t responding, a nameless fire flared in Shen Zhan’s chest. He stepped forward, gathering a faint blue glow in his palm, and shoved her hard.

With a dull thud, Lin Wan was blown backward. She crashed heavily into the iron gate behind her before sliding to the ground.

Shen Zhan sneered. He turned around, wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist, and walked into the rain without looking back. “Remember, you’re the one who’s incompetent. Don’t blame me for being cold-hearted.”

The great gate slowly closed, sealing Lin Wan off in the dark, violent storm.

Lin Wan lay on the wet stone steps, the stinging rain blurring her vision. She wiped the water from her face, her finger clenching the crumpled marriage contract. Her knuckles turned white from the effort. Regret? Of course she felt it. But right now, that regret had transformed into cold, hard logic.

She pushed herself up on her knees, her body trembling slightly from the impact she’d just taken, but she kept her spine straight. Ahead lay a pitch-black, unknown street. Behind her was a home she could never go back to.

She didn’t look back. She turned and disappeared into the curtain of rain.

In a corner of the city, the Scrap Yard crouched in the mud like a giant beast. Piles of old books, broken wood, and rusty metal parts stacked up like mountains, emitting a smell of decay. Lin Wan was soaked to the bone, her hair plastered to her cheeks, looking completely destitute.

She stood at the entrance of the Scrap Yard, rain dripping from the ends of her hair. Passersby hurried by, casting strange glances her way—some mocking, some pitying, but most just coldly indifferent.

A Tu, the owner of the Scrap Yard, was sitting on a high stool with his legs crossed, fiddling with an abacus. His bald head shone under the dim bulb. His shrewd eyes scanned Lin Wan up and down.

A Tu narrowed his eyes, the corner of his mouth twisting into a sarcastic smirk. “Well, well. What’s this? Some noble young lady wandering in here? So what, that little punk from the Shen Family kicked you out, and now you’re running to my pile of junk to play the victim?”

Lin Wan didn’t defend herself. She just bowed her head slightly. Her voice was hoarse but clear. “Boss, it’s pouring out there. I just want to shelter from the storm for a bit. I’ll pay you.”

A Tu let out a sharp scoff and pushed the abacus aside. “Pay? With the few copper coins in your pocket? That’s not even enough to buy two pounds of scrap iron for my yard. This isn’t a shelter, so get lost. Don’t bring your fancy airs and ruin my stock.”

Lin Wan’s eyes moved subtly, but she wasn’t provoked by his words. She surveyed the chaotic piles of scrap around her, locking her gaze on a relatively dry corner. It was messy, but it avoided the main path of the rain drops. It was the only spot where she could actually hide.

She walked over silently and leaned against a pile of old books.

A Tu had been about to chase her off again, but his gaze lingered for a moment on Lin Wan’s jet-black eyes. There was no begging in there. Just a depthless stillness, even with a hint of appraisal. That look didn’t belong to a ruined noblewoman who’d just had her engagement broken off. It looked more like… she was looking at a product about to be dismantled.

Curiosity chased the annoyance out of A Tu’s head. He stood up, dragging his slippers behind him, and slowly waddled over.

Lin Wan’s gaze fell on a thick, yellowed ancient book at her feet. It was a broken family genealogy, the cover peeling off, the pages moldy and mixed with dirt and spots, looking completely unremarkable.

On impulse, she extended her fingertip and lightly touched the spine of the genealogy.

A tiny, tingling sensation shot through her finger, feeling like an electric current rushing straight into her brain.

Suddenly, a crisp notification chimed in her mind.

[Book Soul Resonance System Activating... Binding Successful.]

[Detected host touching damaged ancient text. Literary Qi Absorption function enabled.]

Lin Wan yanked her hand back, her pupils contracting violently. In her vision, that dusty genealogy suddenly changed. Countless pale gold runes appeared behind the pages, moving like living creatures. That was residual Literary Qi, the form knowledge took when it condensed.

At the same time, the Appraisal Pervasion function automatically activated.

She clearly “saw” that in the gap of the genealogy’s false binding, a faintly glowing confidential document was hidden. The light wasn’t strong, but it was abnormally pure, completely different from the rotting stench of the surroundings.

Lin Wan’s heart rate picked up, her breathing becoming slightly rapid.

A Tu saw her spacing out and assumed she was hatching some sneaky scheme. He reached out to grab her jacket. “What are you staring at? Playing ghost here? Trying to steal my old antiques?”

Lin Wan ignored his movement. She spoke slowly, her voice squeezed through her teeth, carrying a sharpness she’d never shown before. “Boss A Tu, do you know how much this genealogy is worth?”

A Tu froze, then burst into laughter, revealing a missing tooth. “Hah, that trash? Leftover from the previous dynasty? I say it’s the straw they fed the pigs. You little girl, trying to play word games with me? Dream on!”

“It’s not a joke.”

Lin Wan looked up. The tolerance in her eyes was gone, replaced by a hot, sharp gleam.

She pointed at the genealogy. “Look here. There’s a letter in the false binding, written three years ago. It’s the key evidence from when the Lin Family had its power seized. It records the Shen Family’s collusion with the Black Dragon and the private destruction of the ledgers. Now, this is the only copy left.”

The laughter died on A Tu’s face.

He was a cynic, a cunning guy who had been rummaging through scrap heaps for decades, giving him a nose for the value of ancient texts that was beyond ordinary. When he was casually fiddling with the abacus earlier, his peripheral vision had caught the cover of that book, and he vaguely remembered it was tied to an old case. But the words “key evidence” and “Black Dragon” made his pupils shrink.

The Black Dragon. The boss of the Underground Combat Arena. Cruel, vicious, and dangerous. Someone even A Tu, who only played it safe in small circles, wouldn’t dare cross.

“You… how do you know there’s a letter in the binding?” A Tu’s voice dropped, laced with caution and probing. “Do you have a third eye or something?”

Lin Wan didn’t answer. She just reached out and touched the genealogy again. This time, she clearly “saw” the unique ink sediment on the edge of the confidential document. It was high-grade cinnabar ink treated with special preservation methods, a type that had long since disappeared from the market.

“I can see it,” Lin Wan said flatly. “And I can repair it.”

“Repair it?” A Tu frowned. “It’s broken like that. Even if you fix it, it’s just a worthless book. How are you supposed to repair it? You got ink? A brush? What are you gonna use to fix it?”

“I don’t need a brush or ink.” A faint, cold smirk curled at the corner of Lin Wan’s lips, a mocking nod to fate finally showing its cracks. “I just need a little time, and a bit of… material.”

A Tu stared at her for a long while. The contempt in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by sharp calculation. In this High Martial Era, information was power, and the martial secrets or commercial formulas hidden in ancient texts were worth a fortune.

If she could actually repair ancient texts, or even extract valuable content from damaged scrolls…

“What do you want?” A Tu finally asked the crucial question. He leaned forward, the clacking of the abacus beads sounding刺耳 in the silence.

“Shelter, and the medicinal ingredients needed for the repair.” Lin Wan stood up. Rainwater dripped from the hem of her clothes, splashing onto the ground. “I need a place where I won’t be disturbed, and enough resources. In exchange, I’ll repair at least three unfixable ancient texts for you, and extract one commercial formula worth ten thousand gold from them.”

A Tu took a deep breath, weighing the options in his head at high speed.

There was risk. A noblewoman of unknown origin who got dumped by the Shen Family—what backing could she possibly have? But the payoff was bigger. In the High Martial Era, cultivation techniques were hard currency, and formulas were lifelines. As long as he could get the formula, the cost of providing shelter was negligible.

Besides, that “pervasion” ability she had just displayed—if it was real—meant she was a genius, or possibly a monster. Crossing a potential high-level expert was absolutely not smart.

“Deal.” A Tu slapped the table with a loud thud, his voice firm, though a last shred of wariness remained in his eyes. “But let’s get the ugly stuff out of the way first. Don’t try to fool me with fakes. If I find out you’re lying, the consequences are on you.”

Lin Wan nodded, her gaze dropping back to the broken genealogy.

She looked down at the book, her fingertip gently rubbing the rough spine. In her mind, the system notification sounded again. This time, it came with a cold, mechanical voice, and a red-text warning she couldn’t ignore.

[Repairing damaged scrolls requires a price.]

[Current missing materials: One three-year aged Purple Reishi, supplemented by half a liter of Volatile Fire Oil.]

Lin Wan’s eyes sharpened.

Purple Reishi. A rare medicinal herb, worth a small fortune. Volatile Fire Oil. Highly flammable, easily exploded, and reeking of acrid fumes. Extremely hard to come by. This price looked simple, but it was actually a trap. If she couldn’t get the materials in time and the repair failed, the backlash would be enough to shatter her meridians to dust.

But there was no fear in her eyes. Only the resolute fire of decision.

The spark of revenge had already been lit in her heart.