Lin Mu transmigrated.
He arrived in a place called the Tianxuan Continent, becoming an outer disciple of Qingyun Sect.
If this happened to anyone else, they'd probably be excited for at least three days. But Lin Mu lay on the ground, staring at the beam above his head, and only wanted to curse.
Because how did the original owner die?
Exhaustion.
Really, literally exhausted to death. Lin Mu was stunned when he merged with the memories—this poor kid, trying to complete a sect mission, had gone seven days and nights without sleep, finally collapsing at the cafeteria entrance, still clutching half an uneaten mantou in his hand.
The current situation of Qingyun Sect's outer disciples: suffocated by the grind. Grind or die.
Lin Mu climbed to his feet and stretched. This body was even worse than he'd imagined—skinny as a bamboo pole, ribs visible one by one.
"Congratulations, host, for binding to the Emotional Management System. Detecting surrounding emotional fluctuations..."
Lin Mu froze.
System?
He looked down and noticed something on his right hand that hadn't been there before—a palm-sized, dusty gray object that looked like a trash can.
Actually, it was a trash can.
The cylindrical kind with a little lid on top, the type you'd see on street corners for collecting waste paper.
"System binding complete. Host can obtain Emotional Points by collecting and processing others' emotions, which can be exchanged for rewards."
Lin Mu stared at the mini trash can in his hand for three silent seconds.
"You're the system?"
"I'm the Emotional Trash Can." The lid cracked open a slit, revealing two mung-bean-sized little eyes that blinked at him. "Specializing in recycling all kinds of negative emotions. First time meeting you, hello host."
Lin Mu: "..."
Other transmigrators got systems—Invincible Sword Dao systems, Ten-Thousand-Fold Return systems, Check-In-to-Godhood systems. He got a trash can.
A sentient one.
"Can I return you?"
"No." The trash can's eyes blinked. "Host, your negative emotional value is off the charts. Suggest immediate processing."
Lin Mu took a deep breath.
Fine. Since he was here anyway.
He pushed open the door. Outside was a cluster of low buildings packed with outer disciples. Dawn was just breaking, and already people were heading to the back mountain with medicine baskets, squatting by the well washing clothes, or sitting on doorsteps gnawing on dry rations.
Every face bore the same two words: bone tired.
"Ding—Detecting significant resentment five meters ahead. Source: outer disciple Wang Tiezhu."
Lin Mu followed the prompt. A stocky young man squatted against a wall, clutching a dry mantou, his expression suggesting he wanted to swallow it alive.
Wang Tiezhu. The original owner knew him. They'd joined the sect together and lived in this same slum.
"Brother Tiezhu. Morning."
Wang Tiezhu looked up, his expression clearly disdainful. "You're still alive?"
"Thanks to you."
"Hmph." Wang Tiezhu bit viciously into his mantou. "If you'd kept an eye on those spirit herbs last night, would the Enforcement Team have found them? I got ten lashes. Where were you? Asleep?"
Lin Mu checked the original owner's memories. Yesterday he'd been too exhausted to keep going and had indeed gone to bed early. But the spirit herbs getting discovered by the Enforcement Team was purely Wang Tiezhu's bad luck—he'd planted them right along the Enforcement Team's patrol route. It would've been weird if they hadn't found them.
"Ding—Detected target's resentment value at 87 points. Recommend.After recycling, obtain 87 Emotional Points."
Lin Mu looked at the trash can on his hand. The lid was cracked open a slit, those two little eyes gazing at him expectantly.
How did one recycle?
The thought had barely crossed his mind when the trash can suddenly jumped off his hand, landed on the ground, and rolled—gulu gulu—right to Wang Tiezhu's feet.
Wang Tiezhu looked down, saw the dusty little bucket, and froze.
"What the hell is this?"
The trash can's lid opened wide and took a sudden, sharp inhale toward Wang Tiezhu.
Wang Tiezhu's expression went blank.
Not terrified. Just empty. Like something had been sucked out of him. He stood there frozen, eyes unfocused.
Three seconds later, the trash can rolled back to Lin Mu's feet. Its lid snapped shut with a smack, and it let out a tiny burp.
Lin Mu looked down at it, then back at Wang Tiezhu.
Wang Tiezhu came to. He looked at the mantou in his hand, frowned.
"This mantou tastes awful." He tossed it on the ground, stood up, and dusted off his butt. "Forget it. Not eating. Going to practice."
And then he just left.
No cursing Lin Mu, no dirty looks, not even another glance. Just floated away.
Lin Mu watched his retreating back, feeling something was off.
"What did you just suck up?"
"Resentment." The trash can's voice was full of satisfaction. "All negative emotions directed at the host, completely recycled. He has no opinion of you now."
"Just of me?"
"Mm." The trash can blinked. "His resentment toward others is still there. Just the part targeting the host is cleared."
Lin Mu was silent for a moment.
"What's the use of this ability?"
"Prevents people from holding grudges against the host." The trash can said it with utter righteousness. "The original owner of this body the host now occupies, because he offended too many people, someone poisoned his food and that's why—"
"Wait." Lin Mu interrupted. "Wasn't the original owner exhausted to death?"
The trash can's little eyes blinked. It fell silent.
Lin Mu squinted.
Interesting.
The whole morning, Lin Mu wandered around the outer sect.
The trash can was busier than ever.
The auntie serving food in the cafeteria—because Lin Mu asked for half an extra mantou, her resentment value shot up.
Recycled.
The senior brother from Enforcement Hall—because Lin Mu glanced at him while passing by, his resentment value exploded.
Recycled.
The skinny guy in the next room—because Lin Mu bumped his shoulder going out the door, resentment value broke a hundred.
Recycled.
By noon, the trash can was so full its lid wouldn't close. It lay in Lin Mu's palm groaning.
"Can't... can't anymore... too much... can't digest..."
Lin Mu looked at it. "You okay?"
"Fine, just a little stuffed." The trash can rolled its nonexistent eyes. "Host, your people skills are terrible, you know that? Just one morning, and I've already collected over twenty resentment packets targeting you."
Lin Mu didn't answer.
He scrolled through the system panel showing the Emotional Points he'd just collected: 245.
Pretty good.
But that wasn't the point.
The point was what the trash can had said earlier—the original owner was poisoned to death.
In the original owner's memories, there was nothing about this. He only remembered doing missions, working, sleeping, day after day, until he collapsed at the cafeteria entrance.
"You said the original owner was poisoned?" Lin Mu asked.
The trash can struggled to turn over. "Mm. The toxin was very subtle, with a long incubation period. It gradually damaged his meridians and dantian, until finally it just looked like exhaustion. Ordinary people wouldn't notice a thing."
"Who did it?"
"Don't know." The trash can blinked. "My function is to recycle emotions, not solve cases."
Lin Mu didn't ask further.
He walked on with his head down, circling past several rows of buildings until he reached the most remote corner of the outer sect. There was a patch of wasteland here, overgrown with weeds, usually deserted.
He found a rock to sit on and spread out his right hand.
Emotional Points: 245.
"What can I exchange for?"
The trash can stirred. Its lid cracked open, revealing half a virtual panel:
[Exchangeable Items]
Beginner Qi-gathering Pill (10 points each)
Ordinary Weapon (50 points each)
Low-tier Cultivation Method (100 points each)
Lucky Draw (20 points per try)
Lin Mu scanned the list, his gaze settling on the last line.
Lucky Draw.
He tapped for details:
[Lucky Draw Instructions]
Bronze Prize: Thanks for participating
Silver Prize: 5 Emotional Points
Gold Prize: Random item (value varies)
Mystery Grand Prize: ???
Bronze Prize was "Thanks for participating."
Meaning 20 points might just vanish.
Lin Mu was silent for three seconds.
"Draw ten times."
The trash can's lid flew open, its two little eyes going wide. "Host, are you sure? Ten times is 200 points. If your luck's bad—"
"Draw."
The trash can said nothing more. Its lid trembled, and a lottery wheel popped up on the panel, beginning to spin at dizzying speed.
First time: Thanks for participating.
Second time: Thanks for participating.
Third time: Thanks for participating.
Lin Mu's expression didn't change.
Fourth time: Thanks for participating.
Fifth time: 5 Emotional Points.
Sixth time: Thanks for participating.
The trash can's little eyes were already starting to panic.
Seventh time: Thanks for participating.
Eighth time: Thanks for participating.
Ninth time: Thanks for participating.
The trash can was completely deflated now, its lid shut tight, not daring to watch.
Lin Mu tapped the last one.
The wheel stopped.
[Congratulations, host, for obtaining the Mystery Grand Prize: Emotional Manifestation (Passive Skill)]
Lin Mu was stunned.
[Emotional Manifestation: Activates passively. When someone near the host experiences strong emotions, that emotion will manifest as a physical entity. The form depends on the emotion type. Visible only to the host.]
What did that mean?
The thought had barely crossed his mind when something red flickered at the edge of his vision.
He turned his head.
Not far away, a young man in outer disciple robes was walking toward him. The young man was very ordinary-looking, the type you'd lose in a crowd. But right now, floating above his head, was an object.
A fist-sized, red object that looked like a heart.
Beating. Thump. Thump.
"Host." The trash can's voice suddenly went very soft. "This person... hates you."
Lin Mu looked at the red heart, then back at the ordinary face.
The young man reached him, stopped, and smiled.
"Junior Brother Lin, so here you are. I've been looking for you everywhere."
Lin Mu remembered now.
This person was Zhou Yuan. The original owner's fellow disciple, same branch. He'd always been quite considerate, often bringing food and drink. The original owner had always thought of him as a good person.
Right now, the red heart above his head was beating cheerfully along.
"Senior Brother Zhou needs something?"
"Nothing major." Zhou Yuan smiled, pulling a small porcelain bottle from his robes. "I just refined some new pills. Thought you might need a pick-me-up, junior brother, with how hard you've been working lately."
Lin Mu took the bottle and looked down.
Inside lay two brownish pills. They gave off a faint herbal scent.
Perfectly ordinary.
"Thank you, Senior Brother." Lin Mu pocketed the bottle.
Zhou Yuan waved with a smile and turned away.
Lin Mu watched his retreating figure, watched that red heart slowly fade into the distance, finally disappearing around a corner.
The trash can cautiously cracked its lid. "Host, those pills..."
"I know." Lin Mu tossed the bottle into the trash can. "Poisoned."
"How do you know?"
Lin Mu didn't answer.
He was just remembering something.
In the original owner's memories, Zhou Yuan was the only person who regularly brought him pills.
The pills the original owner took most often, before he died, were the ones Zhou Yuan gave him.
Lin Mu looked down at his spread right hand.
Emotional Points remaining: 45.
He smiled suddenly.
Interesting.