She brought osmanthus cakes to her own poisoning. Shen Qingluo was the Shen Clan's chosen heir — the most gifted cultivator of her generation. Then her sister poured the tea, her father watched in silence, and everything she had bled for was taken in a single night. She woke up in a different world. Modern China. A hospital bed. A body with blocked meridians, no cultivation base, and two hundred yuan to her name. But the jade pendant her grandfather pressed into her palm before he died — the one they searched her body for and never found — came with her. And it is waking up. She died once. She already knows exactly who is responsible. Now she just needs to build something they can't take from her a second time. The question isn't whether she'll make them kneel. It's how long she'll make them wait.