Yang Ting slumped over his desk, fingers still curled around the cheap ballpoint pen he'd been using to fill out yet another stack of reports. His computer screen glowed with unread emails, his phone buzzed incessantly with messages from his boss, and his half-empty cup of instant coffee had long gone cold. The office was silent except for the low hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional creak of chairs from his overworked colleagues in the next cubicle.
Then, everything stopped.
A strange lightness spread through his body. His vision blurred, his breath hitched, and then—nothing.
For a brief moment, there was peace. No deadlines. No ringing phones. No passive-aggressive emails. Just quiet.
And then, a thought: Oh. Did I just die?
The realization hit him like a truck—well, not a literal truck. That would have been ironic, considering how many isekai protagonists got hit by those. No, he had managed to do something far stupider. He had worked himself to death.
I knew overtime would kill me one day, he thought. But man, what a lame way to go.
A deep, cosmic voice echoed through the void.
"Your soul has been deemed worthy for reincarnation."
Yang Ting furrowed his brows—or at least, he thought he did. Did he even have a body right now? The voice sounded like some omnipotent celestial being, which meant this was either the afterlife or some kind of reincarnation process.
"You shall be given another chance at life in a world of boundless potential. A realm of martial arts, divine power, and limitless growth."
Yang Ting groaned internally. A cultivation world? Oh, great. Just what I need. A place where people train for hundreds of years just to get revenge on someone who insulted their sect. Sounds exhausting.
The voice continued.
"This is a rare opportunity. You may seek power, fortune, or even immortality itself."
"Yeah, hard pass," Yang Ting muttered. "Listen, mysterious reincarnation voice, I don't want any of that. I just want a quiet, peaceful life. No overwork, no ambition, no getting dragged into world-shaking conflicts. Got it?"
Silence.
Then, the voice rumbled again.
"…Very well."
Before Yang Ting could question what that meant, his consciousness was yanked forward, and everything dissolved into blinding light.
The next thing he knew, he was falling—fast. Wind rushed past his face, and the blurry outline of a vast green landscape stretched beneath him. He barely had time to panic before—
THUD.
Pain exploded through his body as he landed face-first into a patch of dirt. Groaning, he rolled over onto his back, staring up at the clear blue sky. Birds chirped, leaves rustled in the breeze, and the distant scent of fresh herbs filled the air.
"Ow," he muttered. "That was not a gentle landing."
He pushed himself up, brushing soil off his clothes. That's when he noticed—he was wearing simple linen robes, the kind you'd see in historical dramas. His hands looked smaller, younger. He reached up and felt his face. It was… different.
He had actually reincarnated.
Yang Ting sighed. "Welp. Guess I'm stuck here."
Then he cracked his knuckles and stretched.
"Alright. First things first—let's find a place to nap."
Yang Ting trudged through a dirt path, hands tucked into his robe sleeves, his mind still catching up with his situation.
The good news? He wasn't born as some bug that would get stepped on immediately.
The bad news? He was now a fifteen-year-old orphan working on a tiny herb farm in a cultivation world.
Apparently, his new body had already been living here for a while—an orphan left behind in a remote village called Green Sprout Town. His main job? Gathering and preparing herbs for a local apothecary. It wasn't glamorous, but it wasn't terrible either. Most importantly, no one expected much from him.
"Good," Yang Ting muttered to himself. "This means I can coast through life with minimal effort."
As he walked into town, the scent of medicinal herbs mixed with the warm, earthy smell of the marketplace. Merchants called out their wares, selling everything from dried spirit roots to beast cores. Cultivators in flowing robes strode through the streets, exuding arrogance, their swords gleaming under the sunlight.
Yang Ting ignored them all and made his way to the apothecary—a small wooden shop sandwiched between a noodle stall and a blacksmith's forge.
Inside, shelves stacked with ceramic jars lined the walls, filled with powders, dried leaves, and tonics. A frail old man hunched over a counter, grinding herbs with practiced ease.
The old man, Boss Wu, glanced up as Yang Ting entered. "You're late."
Yang Ting yawned. "Am I?"
Boss Wu narrowed his eyes but didn't push further. He wasn't the nagging type. "Did you gather the wild ginseng?"
"Yeah, yeah." Yang Ting pulled out a small pouch and tossed it onto the counter.
Boss Wu opened it, inspecting the contents. "Not bad. You have a good eye for quality. Ever considered formally apprenticing under me?"
Yang Ting shook his head immediately. "Too much effort."
Boss Wu snorted. "Lazy brat." But he didn't seem particularly mad. In fact, there was a hint of amusement in his expression.
Yang Ting stretched and leaned against the counter. "Look, old man, I appreciate the offer, but I'm really just here to do the bare minimum and live a stress-free life."
"You sound like an old man already," Boss Wu muttered. He tossed Yang Ting a few copper coins as payment.
Yang Ting pocketed them and grinned. "Exactly. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be taking a break."
Before Boss Wu could protest, Yang Ting was already out the door, strolling toward his favorite napping spot—a quiet patch of grass beneath a giant willow tree outside the village.
As he lay down and closed his eyes, he sighed contentedly.
A cultivation world, huh? He could see why people got excited about it. Power, immortality, legendary battles… all of it sounded exhausting.
Nope, he thought. Not my problem.
For now, all he wanted was to sleep.
Yang Ting's nap was going perfectly. The willow tree's branches swayed gently, casting cool shadows over him. The grass was soft, the breeze was light, and for the first time since reincarnating, he felt completely at peace.
Then, something fell from the sky.
BOOM.
The ground trembled. Birds shrieked and scattered. The peaceful afternoon was instantly ruined.
Yang Ting groaned and cracked open one eye. A thick cloud of dust rose in the distance, just past the treeline.
"Ugh. What now?"
Normally, he'd ignore it. Weird stuff happened all the time in cultivation worlds. Meteors crashed, beasts rampaged, geniuses dueled—it was all none of his business. But then a thought crossed his mind: What if whatever just fell is valuable?
If it was some rare herb or a treasure, he could sell it and afford even more naps.
With that in mind, he reluctantly got up and shuffled toward the impact site.
---
A large crater was embedded in the middle of a clearing, steam rising from the cracks in the earth. Yang Ting peered over the edge, expecting to see a glowing sword or a heavenly jade artifact. Instead, he found…
"A rock?"
At the center of the crater was a flat, slate-gray tablet about the size of a door. Strange symbols flickered across its surface, pulsing like a slow heartbeat. The longer he stared, the more it seemed to hum with an unearthly energy.
Yang Ting frowned. "Weird. But still just a rock."
Most people in this world would be cautious. A random divine-looking tablet falling from the sky? That screamed "plot device." It could be a legacy item, a forbidden curse, or some ancient ancestor's will.
Yang Ting, however, did not care. He stepped forward and tapped it with his foot.
Nothing happened.
He sighed. "Great. I climbed all the way down here for nothing."
Then—
Ding!
A metallic chime echoed in his head.
[Supreme Creation System has been activated.]
Yang Ting blinked. "…Huh?"
The symbols on the tablet flared to life. Before he could react, the entire thing dissolved into motes of light and surged into his body.
A flood of information crashed into his mind. He staggered, clutching his head as words and phrases formed in his thoughts.
[Welcome, Creator.]
[You have been granted the authority to shape existence.]
[All things may be created or destroyed at your whim.]
Yang Ting froze.
Wait. Wait, wait, wait.
That sounded way too overpowered.
His breath slowed. Carefully, he whispered, "Create… a cup of tea?"
Nothing happened.
A long silence stretched in the clearing. Then—
[Error: System is currently in an incomplete state.]
Yang Ting exhaled. "Oh. Of course. Figures."
Still, he wasn't sure how to feel about this. On one hand, being able to create anything sounded amazing. On the other hand, the system was clearly broken.
"Just my luck," he muttered. "I reincarnate and get a system, but it's defective."
He massaged his temples. This was exactly why he didn't want to get involved with any of this cultivation nonsense. First, it was a simple life as an herbalist, then some sky rock had to crash-land into his peaceful existence.
Shaking his head, Yang Ting sighed and turned away.
"Whatever. I'll figure it out later."
For now, he was going back to his nap.
Yang Ting flopped back under his willow tree, hands behind his head, staring at the sky.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see what I'm working with."
A thought was enough to summon the system interface. A translucent blue screen blinked into existence before him.
─── [Supreme Creation System] ───
User: Yang Ting
Status: Active (Incomplete)
Authority Level: ???
System Features:
1. [Create Object] – ERROR
2. [Create Life] – ERROR
3. [Create World] – ERROR
4. [Create Universe] – ERROR
5. [Modify Reality] – ERROR
6. [Instant Cultivation] – ERROR
Yang Ting stared.
His eye twitched.
"Create worlds? Universes? Modify reality?" He blinked and rubbed his eyes, but the words remained. "What kind of ridiculous cheat system is this?"
Most reincarnators got stuff like Basic Cultivation Boost or Sword Dao Enhancement. But this? This was stupidly broken. He could literally play god!
…If it actually worked.
Instead, every single feature was locked behind an annoying ERROR sign.
He groaned. "Of course. Figures I'd get a system that's as lazy as I am."
He tapped on [Create Object], hoping it might give him a clue. A loading bar popped up—then promptly crashed.
[System Error: Feature Unavailable.]
"Great. Useless." He swiped through the menu impatiently. The system felt sluggish, like an ancient computer on the verge of death.
At the very bottom of the interface, however, he noticed a blinking icon labeled [Diagnostics].
He tapped it.
[System Status: Severely Damaged.]
[Core Functions Offline.]
[Would you like to attempt self-repair? Y/N]
Yang Ting's eyebrow twitched. "That was an option this whole time?"
He immediately selected Y.
The screen flickered. Then—
[Error: Insufficient System Power.]
[Recommended Solution: Gather High-Quality Spiritual Energy.]
Yang Ting groaned. "Oh, for the love of—why does everything in this world require effort?"
It was clear now. The system wasn't broken so much as out of power. He needed to find some kind of high-energy resource to kickstart it.
But that sounded way too troublesome.
"Forget it," he muttered, dismissing the interface. "If the system wants to be lazy, then so do I."
And with that, he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
Yang Ting was perfectly content to ignore his broken system and continue living a simple, stress-free life. Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.
His stomach growled.
Lazily cracking open one eye, he let out a long sigh. "I knew I should've eaten before napping."
He sat up, stretching. The village had a few food stalls, but that meant walking all the way back, dealing with people, and spending his hard-earned copper coins. Too much effort.
Then, he paused.
He did have a system that—at least in theory—could create anything.
A slow smirk crept onto his face. "Alright, let's try something small."
Summoning the system interface again, he tapped on [Create Object], ignoring the error message. He focused.
I want… a tea leaf.
A tiny flicker of light pulsed in the air before him. Then—
Poof.
A single, perfect tea leaf materialized in his palm.
Yang Ting stared.
The leaf was flawless—its green hue deep, its fragrance rich. He didn't know much about high-grade teas, but this looked divine.
"…Huh." He flipped it over, sniffed it, even bit the edge experimentally. Definitely real.
The system actually worked.
A slow grin spread across his face.
Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.
Excited, he thought, Alright, what if I create a few more?
He tried again, willing the system to generate more leaves.
The air shimmered.
Then—
BOOM.
The ground rumbled beneath him.
Yang Ting's eyes widened as a massive wave of green exploded outward from where he sat. In mere seconds, hundreds—no, thousands—of tea trees sprouted in every direction, their lush branches stretching toward the sky, filling the air with an overwhelming aroma.
He stared at the newly-formed spiritual tea forest in stunned silence.
"…Oh."
A gentle breeze rustled through the trees. Somewhere in the distance, a bird cawed.
Yang Ting slowly exhaled.
"…I may have overdone it."