Don’t Provoke the Lighthouse Painter

Lin Zhaoyan woke up with ink on her fingers and her death still fresh in her mind. In her first life, she kept the sky routes alive from a lonely tower and painted the paths that let flying cultivators cross deadly air currents. No one cared when she warned them. No one listened when she saw the trap ahead. Now she had the same young body, the same brush, and the memory of every enemy who had smiled at her before the fall. She used that dismissal as fuel, because her painted marks grew stronger the more people treated her like background noise. The hardest part was not revenge. It was choosing what to save, what to erase, and which person from her old life she could never trust again.