Reincarnation is a cosmic lottery, and this time I've won a medieval village, a twin brother who collects other people's undergarments as though they were sacred relics, and a newborn's body that collapses if I use more than 5% of my own power. Brilliant. Splendid. Marvellous. Well. I have been an empress, a cultivator, a goddess, a dragon, and at least three things that have no name in any civilised tongue. I have governed sects, empires, and at least one dimension that would rather not be mentioned. I have survived wars, apocalypses, and cultivation masters who considered suicide missions a perfectly sound pedagogical method. My plan, then, is simple: pretend to be a normal child, drink my tea in peace, and refrain from destroying anything of structural importance. Eos, my intelligent system, puts the probability of that working out at 12%. She's being optimistic.
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