Chapter One: The Pen That Alters Fate

"Sir, sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Master Zheng is asking you."

In the main hall of the county office, the plump advisor quietly urged his master. The young county magistrate, dressed in a green official robe, looked as if he had just woken from slumber, his mind adrift.

Have I become the county magistrate?

Zhang Rui gazed around in a haze, then looked at himself. The deep green robe, the mandarin duck insignia—after years of imperial examinations, he recognized this as the official attire of a seventh-rank civil officer in the Great Jin.

He was seated in the county hall. On either side, the constables stood in orderly rows. Kneeling on the stone for the accused was a woman in prisoner’s garb, while at the plaintiff’s seat rested a grand armchair occupied by a relaxed, corpulent elder.

"Is Magistrate Zhang perhaps overwhelmed by his duties lately? You seem rather unwell."

Zhang Rui looked toward the speaker. The elder in the armchair played with a jade ornament, and even as he addressed Zhang Rui, he did not spare him a glance. It was clear this elder was no ordinary man.

The accused woman lay prostrate, her head pressed to the ground, trembling with fear—a portrait of utter vulnerability.

This seemed an unjust trial.

Zhang Rui sized up the situation using common sense, but he had no idea what to do. He had no memory of this case—indeed, he remembered nothing of how he became a scholar, nor which county he had been assigned to. Nothing at all.

"Sir?"

The advisor urged him again. Zhang Rui, not wanting to appear too abnormal, cleared his throat, "Accused, do you confess your guilt?"

Why ask again? The advisor and constables frowned. The distinguished elder lifted his head, casting a puzzled glance at Zhang Rui.

Zhang Rui saw their expressions and knew he had spoken incorrectly, but the words had already left his lips. There was no taking them back. He simply picked up his teacup and feigned calm by drinking.

"I confess," came the gentle voice of the woman, breaking the awkward silence. Yet what she said next caused Zhang Rui to choke on his tea.

"It was I who killed all thirteen members of the Shen family!"

Coughing violently, Zhang Rui set down his cup in a panic, staring at the kneeling woman, then at the impassive constables. He wanted to ask, Are you serious?

The woman was thin as a reed, her voice weak and frail—yet she confessed to slaughtering an entire family as if it were nothing.

"Magistrate Zhang..." Seeing Zhang Rui hesitate, the elder frowned, setting aside his jade and finally looking Zhang Rui in the eye. "Do you intend to ask a third time?"

Zhang Rui picked up the gavel, hesitation flickering in his eyes. He had no memory of these years. By rights, he ought to keep a low profile, go along with the flow. The woman had confessed, and everyone seemed to expect him to judge accordingly. But...

Ordinary cases were one thing, but an entire family murdered—if there was a hidden truth, and it came to light later, it would stain his reputation. His position as county magistrate had been hard-won; he could not afford such a blemish. He must not be careless—he had to shoulder responsibility.

Bang!

"This case is grave. I must deliberate further. Take the suspect into custody—court is adjourned!"

With the gavel’s fall, Zhang Rui’s words left the hall stunned into silence.

Everyone stared at him in disbelief.

"Are you serious, Magistrate Zhang?" The elder rose, looking at him as if he were mad.

Zhang Rui frowned. In cases of murder, even if the suspect confesses, it is reasonable to deliberate. Why this look from the old man?

There were two possibilities: either the woman was not what she appeared and truly capable of mass murder, or she was coerced into confessing. Zhang Rui leaned toward the latter. If so, the elder must wield considerable power—enough to suppress both the woman and the magistrate.

But so what? He was an official of the imperial court. However great the elder’s background, a mere delay could not cost him his life. Besides... he had his own trump card.

Zhang Rui glanced sidelong at the pen beside his right hand—a steel pen wholly out of place in the scene.

No one else could see it. It was the pen he’d used in his previous life for writing, and since crossing over into his own manuscript, he could use it to rewrite anything around him.

He had used it as a child—not only could it control events now, it could rewrite past and future, even erase those around him, though at a steep price.

Every use brought a different side effect—the more drastic the change, the deeper the connection to himself, the greater the cost.

So in recent years, he had scarcely used it—until his last failed imperial exam.

Yes, he had become a county magistrate by rewriting his own fate, turning a perennial failure into a scholar, skipping the bitter years of study.

But the price was total amnesia—he remembered nothing of his scholar’s success, nor how he was assigned, nor how long he had served.

"Sir... you must not..." The advisor was the first to recover, hastily urging Zhang Rui.

"My decision is made. No need to say more," Zhang Rui interrupted him.

The advisor’s eyes widened, as if he were witnessing madness.

"Remarkable..." The elder chuckled. "To find someone like you in such a backwater."

The advisor tried to protest, but the elder raised a hand to stop him. He turned to Zhang Rui, "Human life is precious, and indeed should be treated carefully. Yet I have urgent matters and cannot linger. Magistrate Zhang, are you sure you wish to investigate further?"

"Certainly..." Zhang Rui nodded calmly.

So the elder had power—so be it. He had already decided to offend him; what difference did it make?

"Very well..." The elder nodded. "In that case, will the suspect be placed under your care?"

"She is not convicted, merely a suspect," Zhang Rui corrected him coolly.

"Indeed..." The elder smiled.

But the faces of the advisor and the constables turned deathly pale upon hearing that the suspect would be in their master’s custody.

From his vantage, Zhang Rui saw their expressions clearly and was puzzled. What was the elder’s background? Even if he offended him, it should not affect the constables—why such grief-stricken faces?

"Did you hear?" The elder turned to the kneeling woman.

"I heard." For the first time, the woman lifted her head and looked toward Zhang Rui.

The advisor hurriedly moved away, his panic stirring unease in Zhang Rui’s heart.

Before he could react, the sight of the woman’s face startled him.

It was not that she was ugly or sinister—on the contrary, she was dazzlingly beautiful, surpassing even the most polished stars of his previous life. Her flawless face was crowned by deep green eyes, like a pair of cat’s-eye gems.

Beautiful, yes—but there was something uncanny about her, evoking primal fear, as if a sheep had glimpsed a wolf.

And then, an even more incredible scene unfolded.

The elder produced a scroll, unfurled it, then rolled it up—and the woman vanished. In her place, the once-blank scroll now bore the image of a prisoner in chains, her eerie green eyes staring straight out at him.

In broad daylight, Zhang Rui’s skin prickled with horror.

What was happening?

He had written historical fiction, never touched superstition.

Why did such things exist here?

And judging by the others’ expressions—fearful yet accustomed to it—this was no anomaly.

There was only one explanation.

Zhang Rui glanced at the pen to his right and swallowed.

The pen’s side effects had exceeded his imagination. He had thought the cost was minimal this time—rewriting his fortune to become a scholar, and only skipping several years.

Compared to previous prices, this seemed far too light.

Now it was clear—things were not so simple. This time, the change was extraordinary.

A simple adjustment to his career, and he had rewritten the entire framework of this world.

He must never use this pen again—who knows what reality it might create.

"Magistrate Zhang..." The elder rolled up the scroll and approached. "This painted skin devours seven times seven souls, and by the laws of Great Jin should be punished by fire. Yet she originally denied the last murder, only to confess yesterday. I too find the case suspicious, but I must travel to North Sea City for urgent matters. Since you wish to investigate, I leave this artifact in your care. I will return in at most seven days—please make haste."

Zhang Rui: "........"

It seemed the pen... would have to be used once more...