Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Far from the depths of that chamber, among the ancient peaks of Mount Wuyi, the Zhang family manor stood as a masterpiece where nature and humanity whispered in harmony. Enclosed by cascading waterfalls and vast emerald forests, the estate sprawled like a kingdom within the mountains—wooden pagodas with jade-tiled roofs perched above mist-kissed cliffs, their silhouettes veiled in the drifting fog of dawn.

The symphony of life was alive here—the chirping of cicadas blending with the soft murmurs of nearby streams, the rustling leaves dancing in the mountain breeze. Vines crept along the outer walls of the manor, their blossoms delicate yet untamed, weaving through the dark wooden frames of windows.

A narrow, winding path of smooth stone led through a sea of lilac and cherry blossoms, the petals scattering underfoot. At its end, a solitary pagoda rested atop a raised platform, its curved eaves painted deep crimson with gold accents, ancient yet pristine.

And there—within the heart of this sanctum—sat a woman.

Dressed in flowing white robes trimmed with pale blue silk, delicate embroidery tracing the patterns of blooming lotuses along the fabric. Her long, raven-black hair cascaded freely behind her, strands teased gently by the wind as they danced across her porcelain face.

A silver circlet adorned her brow, glinting faintly beneath the pale sunlight.

She held a flute.

A work of art itself—pale, carved from bone-white jade with faint silver inlays. As she played, the sound drifted through the air—soft, haunting, unbearably beautiful. Each note a thread of longing, weaving echoes of a distant past—memories untouched by time. It wasn't merely music. It was grief. Love. Nostalgia.

The kind of sound that made your chest ache, raw yet comforting. The notes hung heavy, lingering just long enough to leave an ache in the heart before fading into the mountain wind.

She wasn't just playing. She was mourning.

A breath. A tremble in the air.

"Miss...?"

A figure had appeared at the edge of the pagoda—dressed in modern black and white maid attire, a sharp contrast to the ancient beauty surrounding her. The young woman bowed respectfully, hands folded before her.

The music faltered, a final lingering note trembling on the air before the flutist lowered her instrument.

"What is it?" Her voice was quiet, yet commanding. A whisper of winter's chill. The maid hesitated. Then, head still bowed, she answered softly.

"The Patriarch has awakened. He asks for you. Immediately."

Silence.

The wind stirred, cold against her skin, carrying with it the scent of cherry blossoms and rain.

Her delicate brows furrowed.

"...Why? What happened?"

The maid's lips parted, but there was hesitation. A tremor. "I... don't know, Miss. But it sounded... urgent."

The woman rose, her robes flowing around her like water, the fabric whispering against the stone floor.

The mountain wind carried the last echoes of her song away, leaving nothing behind but the ache it had left behind.

****

Week and days ago!

The mist was thinning, and the sky stretched wider now, pale light filtering through the endless pines. Somewhere far below, the world thrummed with quiet life—the distant hum of cars, the occasional crack of a rifle shot echoing through the valleys. Civilization.

Pandora felt it.

Not just heard it. Felt it.

Like the pulse of the earth beneath her bare feet, the vibrations rippling out in all directions. She could hear heartbeats. Taste heat signatures on the air. Smell—God, everything. Asphalt. Metal. Sweat.

The sharp, synthetic tang of fuel. There was no confusion, no culture shock. Not for her.

The now destroyed mountain hadn't just held her. It had whispered to her. Fed her. Time itself had dripped into her consciousness, slow as melting ice, until knowledge saturated her like ink spilled into water. Centuries, languages, wars, inventions—all of it marinating in her head like some endless data dump, right up to the modern day.

She knew exactly how the world worked. But knowing it and living it? Two different things.

Pandora exhaled slowly, pressing her toes deeper into the damp earth. Her power—it was unstable. Twisting. Coiling under her skin like it was trying to crawl free. She could feel it pressing against her ribs, radiating heat. The mountain was proof enough—she hadn't even tried to erase it. And yet, here she stood, surrounded by silence where a peak once loomed.

She wasn't about to risk more damage. Not yet.

A soft rustle of wings made her glance up. The raven circled above, sharp as ever, eyes like polished onyx as it swooped lower, landing near her shoulder.

"Clothes," she murmured, voice low but steady. "Get me something. And make sure it doesn't look like I just stepped out of a damn apocalypse, alright?"

The raven cocked its head, almost mockingly, before taking off in a blur of dark feathers, disappearing into the sky like a shadow vanishing from the sun.

Pandora let the silence settle again, standing there in the fading mist, completely exposed but utterly unfazed. The cold air didn't bite. The dampness didn't stick. She felt... untouchable.

No one was around to see, but if they were? Yeah, they'd probably think she'd been sculpted straight out of a fever dream. The kind of body that didn't just get noticed—it demanded attention.

Her skin, once dusted with ash, was suddenly clean as the raven's wings. No water. No effort. The air itself just... shifted. A breeze that seemed to obey her, sweeping the dirt from her curves like invisible hands smoothing silk sheets.

Flawless. Unblemished. Glowing, almost.

Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, black and wavy, but not tangled anymore. Somehow, it fell just right. Not perfectly polished—there was still that wildness to it, like she'd just walked out of a thunderstorm and dared the sky to strike her again.

The gold in her dark eyes burned a little brighter. Lips, full and blood-tinted, curled into the barest hint of a smirk as she shifted her stance—hips rolling with that natural sway, the kind you couldn't fake if you tried.

But power wasn't everything now.

Blending in meant understanding subtlety, and subtlety wasn't exactly her strength. That's why she had her.

The raven would be back. And when she returned, Pandora won't be walking around like some mystical naked goddess waiting for a cult to form at her feet. She'd be dressed. Civilized. Fitting into this modern chaos until the moment she chose not to.

For now, she waited.

The breeze stirred her hair again, but this time, she caught the scent of gasoline. Asphalt. Tires burning against pavement. Close. Human close.

She was near a town already.

The raven returned with the same suddenness it had left, a bundle clutched tightly in its claws—modern clothes. Jeans, dark and fitted. A simple black top, torn slightly but nothing dramatic. A worn leather jacket. Boots with just enough scuff to blend without looking dirty.

Pandora raised a brow. "Really? Basic bitch chic? That's the best you could find?"

The raven just dropped the clothes at her feet and cawed, sharp and smug.

"Fine. Whatever."

She dressed quickly, her motions fluid but efficient. The clothes felt strange—too tight in some places, too rough in others. Not uncomfortable, but limiting. Still, better than walking into town naked like a crazy person.

When she finally emerged from the treeline, it was with a simple turn around the back of a gas station building. The mist had long since burned off, replaced by the harsh neon glare of modern lighting against cracked pavement.

A truck rumbled past, the driver not even glancing her way. Good.

Blending in wasn't hard. Not when you understood the quiet rules people followed—the avoidance of eye contact, the hunched shoulders, the self-absorbed glow of screens lighting up their faces. No one was really paying attention.

And yet, when she crossed the street, a few heads still turned.

Something in her presence made the air feel charged. That same pulse she'd felt before, rippling out from her core. Power, restrained but not entirely hidden.

A test. She wanted to see how far she could push before people noticed.

Not far, apparently.

A man stumbled slightly as she brushed past, blinking like he'd just forgotten what he was doing. A woman whispered something to her friend, eyes lingering a second too long.

Pandora's lips curled into a smirk. 'Yeah. Still got it.'

But this wasn't the time to play.

She was here for something else. Someone else.

And if the knowledge pouring through her mind was right, he was very close.

*****

Special thank to my top fans; Josh776, AatroxVoid, Mythstormer, Warriorprex, miguel_arellano, William—Wilson and more. Thank y'all. And I just published another one check it out guys. Thank for the support and continue the gifts coming, hehe~