But I'm a proper river god, you know! - Chapter 1

Under a sparse sky of stars, the moon cast a silvery veil over the surface of Wangchuan Lake, its shimmering ripples broken only by the occasional flicker of red fish darting beneath. Not a single insect chirped, nor did the slightest breeze stir.

Yuan Ji stared fixedly at the wisp of white spirit floating before her, a complex emotion flashing through her almond-shaped eyes before she decisively turned to leave.

“Too ugly. Don’t want to look.”

The white spirit, having overheard her inner monologue: “…?!”

“W-Wait! Yuan Ji, hold on!” The spirit fluttered frantically in front of her, blocking her path. “Aren’t you even curious—”

Before it could finish, Yuan Ji took a sudden step back, her delicate brows knitting together.

“It talks… even weirder now!”

The spirit: “…”

It took a deep breath (if spirits could even do such a thing) and patiently asked, “Yuan Ji, do you remember who you are?”

Suppressing the urge to walk away again, Yuan Ji coldly raised her eyes. Her dark pupils resembled shards of ice buried deep within a snow-capped mountain—devoid of curiosity, confusion, or even the faintest trace of warmth.

After a long silence, Yuan Ji abruptly reached out toward the spirit. But her fingers passed straight through the ethereal mist, leaving no trace behind.

She withdrew her hand, ignoring the spirit’s sudden retreat and defensive posture. Instead, she stared blankly at her empty palm and murmured, “A ghost?”

“No, I’m a system,” the spirit said timidly, keeping its distance. “The River God Cultivation System, to be exact. You can call me A-Tong. Yuan Ji, you are now the river god of Wangchuan… and my host.”

River God… Cultivation System?

What’s that?

Yuan Ji swallowed her confusion, revealing nothing.

Perhaps sensing her lost memories, the system quickly explained everything.

As it turned out, Yuan Ji had once endured a calamity. At the brink of her soul scattering, a surviving fragment had bonded with the River God Cultivation System. She was then transported into a xianxia novel—a world where sword cultivators, demonic cultivators, and ghost cultivators all vied ruthlessly for power.

The protagonist, Xuan Changsheng, was the chosen one of this world. After defeating its greatest antagonist, the demonic cultivator Qi Yan, he ascended as the mightiest figure, revered by all.

Yuan Ji listened to the story half-heartedly before tossing it aside.

Some protagonist, some demonic cultivator… boring.

What truly concerned her was something else. She fixed her gaze on the white spirit and asked haltingly, “A-A-Tong… how… do I find… my soul fragments?”

Her voice, though clear, carried an unfamiliar stiffness, making her reluctant to speak further.

“That requires completing assigned tasks to accumulate divine power, which you can then use to resonate with your soul fragments. Divine power can also be exchanged for items in the system shop,” A-Tong rambled, unable to hide its enthusiasm. “Let me assign you a trial task!”

The moment it finished speaking, a monotone voice echoed in Yuan Ji’s mind:

[As a river god, maintaining the cleanliness of your domain is paramount. Remove the trash polluting the waters!]

[Daily Task: Collect trash from the river (0/3)]

[Reward: 10 Divine Power Points]

[Failure: Lose control of your body for 12 hours.]

Yuan Ji carefully read the golden text hovering before her, pausing at the penalty section.

So… river gods are just trash collectors? And there’s punishment for failing?

Her confusion resolved, she immediately felt resistance.

A-Tong, having learned its lesson, refrained from eavesdropping on her thoughts this time. Oblivious, it floated excitedly in front of her.

“Yuan Ji, let’s go pick up some trash!”

Yuan Ji shot it an unreadable look, as if debating whether to voice her thoughts. In the end, she swallowed her words.

Fine. I want to know who I am.

How hard can trash-picking be?

Taking her silence as agreement, A-Tong circled her cheerfully. “This task is simple—just remove anything that doesn’t belong in the river.”

“Mn.” Yuan Ji responded flatly before trudging toward Wangchuan Lake.

The closer she got, the colder the air became. Within a few dozen steps, a thin layer of frost coated her raven-black hair.

Her lashes trembled as a tiny snowflake drifted into her eye.

It’s cold.

Yuan Ji hated the cold.

Suddenly, she halted and turned sharply toward the darkness behind her.

Something’s coming.

On the Other Side

A young man with delicate features staggered forward, the black markings on his temples flickering faintly. His current state was pitiful—pale, weak, and utterly disheveled.

Clutched protectively in his arms was a luxurious fox-fur cloak, now stained with blood and mud, its sleek black fur matted with debris.

Luan Yu gently patted the cloak and whispered, “Don’t be afraid.”

A faint reply came from within: “…Mn.”

Gritting his teeth, Luan Yu forced himself toward Wangchuan Lake. From the corner of his eye, he spotted two shadowy figures trailing him at a leisurely pace, like predators toying with their prey.

Damn it, they’re still following.

A cough wracked his lungs as frigid air seared his throat. His foot caught on a root, sending him tumbling down the slope—straight into the river.

Icy water flooded his nose and mouth, and the currents seemed to coil around him like living chains, dragging him deeper.

“H-Help… glug…!” Luan Yu flailed, desperately lifting the cloak above the water. But it was futile.

Ripples spread across the surface as unseen hands pulled him toward the abyss.

He closed his eyes in despair.

No one can save me.

…

Meanwhile

“Yuan Ji!”

The loud splash startled A-Tong, sending the little spirit cowering behind Yuan Ji as it nervously eyed the disturbance.

Yuan Ji glanced at it and fell silent. “…”

Noticing her gaze, A-Tong coughed awkwardly. “Yuan Ji, someone just fell into the river. Should we… fish them out?”

Yuan Ji pondered for a moment before declaring:

“Trash.”

A-Tong froze mid-air, gaping at her in disbelief.

Surely its host wasn’t this… unfriendly?

“Y-Yuan Ji?”

Yuan Ji gave it a sidelong glance. “Not from the river. Trash. Collecting trash.”

“Oh! That kind of trash!” A-Tong laughed nervously, relieved.

Of course its host wasn’t that heartless.

“Yuan Ji, you can’t just call people trash. They’ll think you’re—” trying to pick a fight.

Before it could finish, rustling came from the bushes as two burly, bearded men emerged.

“Well, well, Lao-San! Today’s our lucky day. Not only did we bag a half-demon, but we also stumbled upon a pretty little girl!”

Fan Xiao-Liu’s beady eyes roamed over Yuan Ji like a merchant appraising goods, lingering on her slender frame and the silken cascade of her hair.

The man beside him, Fan Lao-San, chuckled and rested a hand on the hilt of his blade. “The half-demon’s bones alone will fetch a fortune. As for this girl… who knows how much the immortal lords would pay?”

Though youthful, Yuan Ji’s delicate features and unreadable, lake-like eyes held an eerie allure.

Fan Lao-San licked his lips. In all his years of trafficking, he’d never seen a girl who made his heart race like this.

Putting on a greasy smile, he coaxed, “Little girl, what’s your name? Come with us, and you’ll want for nothing.”

As they approached, their confidence was palpable.

“Yuan Ji, these men seem dangerous. Should we avoid them?” A-Tong fretted, eyeing their blades. It puffed itself up, trying (and failing) to shield her.

Yuan Ji, having just awakened as a river god, possessed no divine power yet. Against these brutes, she was as fragile as a sprout beneath a boulder.

What do we do?!

Yuan Ji remained still, her gaze locked on their mud-caked boots.

The plain black shoes were caked in filth, reeking of rust and decay. With every step, they polluted the pristine river, leaving behind swirls of murky water.

Her brows twitched. A-Tong sensed impending disaster.

Then, in a voice as clear as ice, she uttered:

“Trash.”

A-Tong: “!!!”

It exploded into a panicked blur, zipping around like a deflating balloon.

Ignoring the men’s growing fury, Yuan Ji tilted her head. “You. They can’t see you?”

“Ah—” A-Tong forced itself to calm down. “Only Yuan Ji can see and hear me. If you want to talk, we can communicate telepathically.”

Interesting.

Yuan Ji’s lips quirked before her expression cooled again. The men’s boots left ugly stains in the water.

Trash. So dirty.

Fan Lao-San’s grin vanished. “Little girl, you’ve got a sharp tongue. But we’re generous men. Obey us, and we might let you live a little longer.”

His blade scraped the water’s surface, the ripples distorting his cruel smirk.

“Yuan Ji, what do we do? Maybe we can quickly finish the trash-collecting task and earn some divine power—”

A-Tong was babbling nonsense now, desperately scrolling through the system shop for anything useful.

Yuan Ji yawned, watching its flustered antics with mild confusion.

Why overcomplicate things?

Trash? Aren’t these two right here?

She flexed her stiff fingers, a faint white glow coiling around her hand.

Then—

Swoosh!

A blade clattered into the water, swallowed instantly by the currents.

In the next breath, Fan Xiao-Liu stood frozen, watching as his companion was impaled through the skull by a watery lance, his corpse pinned to the cliff behind them.

Trembling, Fan Xiao-Liu’s legs gave out. A strangled whimper escaped his throat.

“H-Help…!”

“Help me!“