The peacefully sleeping feline atop the soft pillow suddenly jolted, hackles rising in alarm. Sir Edmund Pawtipurr's green eyes glinted in the darkness, locking onto the figure writhing uncomfortably on the bed.
With a sigh only a dignified cat could pull off, he circled his human, clearly concerned. Meanwhile, Tang Li Yue remained blissfully unaware of her furry companion's worry. She was currently trapped in a bizarre dream.
In her dream, she found herself standing before a large mirror surrounded by swirling fog. Tang Li Yue's reflection stared back at her—her usual long silk robes and muslin covers draped elegantly, jade ornaments in her hair chiming softly with each movement.
The face in the mirror was familiar: willowy brows, amorous peach-blossom eyes, and small lips with a defined cupid's bow. It was the same face she'd seen all her life—the Saintess of the Sichuan Tang Clan, genius of poison and dagger arts, and the youngest ever to reach the Profound Realm.
Yep, still had it.
She gazed at the reflection for a moment, then her brow furrowed. There was something off. Her brain felt muddled, like it had been dunked into one of those thick herbal tonics her clan used to force on her whenever she "overexerted" herself—which was every day.
It felt like she was... forgetting something.
"Do you still see yourself as the Saintess of the Sichuan Tang Clan?" a voice murmured near her ear, soft and almost teasing. Tang Li Yue's eyes narrowed as she whipped her head around.
"Who's there?" she asked, voice oddly calm despite the growing suspicion in her heart.
"Still seeing yourself as the Tang Clan's Saintess?" the voice asked again, a hint of amusement curling through the words.
"I am the Sichuan Tang Clan's Saintess!" Tang Li Yue snapped, conviction flaring like one of her poison-laced needles.
The mysterious voice chuckled; a sound that made her want to hurl a hidden dagger into the void. "Always so stubborn."
Tang Li Yue pressed her lips into a thin line, about to retort, when the voice slithered back, this time unsettlingly close to her ear.
"But you're not the Saintess anymore, are you?"
Her heart clenched. "What are you talking about?" she demanded, though her voice trembled slightly.
"You're not Tang Yuan Huang's precious daughter anymore." The voice spoke slowly, as if addressing a particularly dense child. "Tang Li Yue is dead."
Those words hit her like a stone wall. Memories flooded her mind. The poisoned incense during her advancement. The Qi deviation. The betrayal. The agony of her breaking dantian. The indignity of a Profound Realm dying a dog's death.
And then... waking up in a new world, in a new body.
The woman in the mirror covered her face with her hands. Tang Li Yue's breaths came out shallow, her delicate frame shaking under the weight of the truth.
Right. She had died. Someone had sabotaged her advancement with poison, ensuring her demise. Yet somehow, she had been given another chance—in Li Yue's body.
"You see?" the voice purred. "You are not the Tang Clan's Saintess anymore."
Tang Li Yue's fingers curled into fists. Her nails dug into her palms. "But I'm not Li Yue either," she muttered, anger and confusion swirling in her chest. "I'm just... borrowing her body."
Laughter echoed around her, brushing against her ears like a mocking breeze. It was really starting to get on her nerves.
"Exactly," the voice continued, still dripping with amusement. "You are neither just Tang Li Yue nor just Li Yue. You are both. But more importantly, you are you. Simple, right?"
Tang Li Yue blinked, her hands slowly lowering from her face. In the mirror, her reflection began to change. The once ethereal beauty of the Tang Clan's Saintess shifted, morphing into a fiery, pajama-clad woman with fierce phoenix eyes, tousled hair, and zero fighting force.
The realization hit her like a bucket of cold water. She wasn't fully Tang Li Yue anymore, but she wasn't simply Li Yue either. She was... both. She was her own person, a fusion of two worlds, two lives.
In that moment of clarity, a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. If anything, this made her even more of a headache for her enemies. That is, if she was still in the Central Plains. Earth offered a lot of fresh ideas to deal with the martial arts worlds.
It was a blessing to have a body which had read countless of varied web novels. The ingenuity accumulated would astound the entire Central Plains if they ever had the chance to encounter it.
Unfortunately, Tang Li Yue would be facing zombies instead in the coming months. And the only way to deal with them was dreadfully monotonous and gut-wrenchingly messy.
Imagine, brain splatters at every turn.
Wait. She can't afford imagine it. This dreamland might conjure it into existence. Her stomach is advocating for the right to not suffer even in dreams.
"Well, whoever I am, I'm still fabulous," she muttered under her breath, her confidence slowly returning along with her misplaced narcissism.
The voice gave a final, amused hum before fading into the mist. Tang Li Yue stood straighter, the tension in her body easing. If this strange dream was meant to confuse her, it had only made her more certain.
She was Tang Li Yue, yes. But she was also someone new. And she had no intention of letting that go to waste.
Back in the real world, Sir Edmund Pawtipurr gave a disdainful sniff. His human seemed to have calmed down, the nightmare or whatever it was having passed. Flicking his tail, the dignified feline hopped off the bed and curled up in his favorite corner, settling back into his own dreams of endless salmon treats.
As for Tang Li Yue, she woke up the next morning with a fresh determination—and the vague memory of a sassy disembodied voice that probably deserved a fair bit of beating.
But that could wait. She had more pressing matters to handle first, like breakfast. Oh, and the damned apocalypse.