The moment Jian Li's phone hit the concrete, the universe decided to get weird.
It wasn't a dramatic fall. No slow motion, no gasp from bystanders. Just a clumsy teen juggling a convenience store bag and a half-eaten meat bun while checking text messages. His thumb missed the grip by an inch. Gravity did the rest.
Clack.
His Android smartphone bounced once, then skidded under the flickering glow of a convenience store sign. The screen didn't shatter, but a long jagged crack spread like lightning across the glass.
Li Jian stared at it, sighed through his nose, and bent down to pick it up.
Then lightning actually struck.
The bolt came from a sky that had been, just seconds ago, perfectly clear. No rumble. No wind. No warning. Just a blinding flash, a CRACKABOOM that set off two car alarms and caused three pigeons to drop dead from cardiac shock.
The bolt didn't hit Li Jian, or the pavement, or even the nearby power pole.
It hit the phone.
"AH, WHAT THE FU—!"
He barely managed to stumble back before the device leapt into the air, spinning in place like a possessed beyblade. Symbols — glowing, ancient-looking glyphs — raced across the screen. The crack in the glass shimmered, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Then, it spoke.
"—AND THUS I, SHENG TAI, GRANDMASTER ALCHEMIST OF THE HEAVENLY LOTUS PALACE, RETURN TO THE MORTAL REALM!"
Li Jian blinked.
"…The hell?"
The voice was old. Deep. Echoing. Like someone shoved a Buddhist monk, a history professor, and a karaoke bar into a blender and hit "reverb max."
His first thought was: Okay, cool prank app. Voice modulation and AR. Gotta be new.
His second thought was: Wait, what's AR?
Then the phone levitated.
Like actually floated off his hand. A slow, eerie hover about two feet above the ground, gently spinning like a drone trying to show off.
"Whoever's doing this," Li Jian said, pointing at the phone, "great work. Very immersive. I'll leave a five-star review once you teach me how to uninstall your haunted-ass program."
"You… You dare address this immortal as a… program?"
"Oh no," Jian muttered, taking a cautious step back, "It's one of those drama filter apps. Gonna get spammed with ads for crystals and life coaching now."
The phone emitted a faint ding. A new notification blinked onto the screen.
[[[🔋 Battery at 14%. Please connect to a charger soon!]]]
The glowing glyphs flickered. The voice weakened slightly.
"This… realm… feels… wrong. Is this the aftermath of tribulation? Or… have I failed my ascension?"
Li Jian peered at the notification bar. There was no app open. No Wi-Fi connected. No Bluetooth, no cell signal. Just:
[[[🔮 Sheng Tai – Bound (99%)
📱 Spirit Mirror Status: Stabilizing…
📡 Heavenly Sync Incomplete]]]
"What in the hell is this?" Jian whispered.
Another voice crackled from the phone.
"Child. Mortal child. You must explain — what is this spirit-sealing mirror? Why does it glow? Why do I feel such… indignity?!"
The phone rotated, pointing its cracked screen directly at Jian like it was staring him down.
He pointed right back. "No. No. I did not sign up for Ghost Grandpa: Extended Edition."
"You dare defy me, boy? I am Elder Sheng Tai! Heaven-ranked Alchemist! Sage of the Nine Cauldrons! My pill flame once forged enlightenment itself!"
"And now you're inside a cracked Huahua phone. Congratulations."
"This device… is this your realm's artifact of soul entrapment?"
"It's a phone. You call people on it. Or doom-scroll through other people's filtered breakfasts."
"…Your world cultivates by staring at boxes all day?"
Li Jian shrugged. "Basically."
The phone dropped slightly in the air, as if it were offended.
"I was sealed by the gods for defying the divine mandate… and now I awaken in a noisy rectangle carried by a teenager with noodle stains on his shirt."
Li Jian looked down. "That's hotpot broth, actually. Also, I'm sixteen."
"Hmpf. The mortal realm has fallen."
⸻
Ten Minutes Later…
Back in his apartment — a cramped studio with a flickering lightbulb and a rice cooker older than he was — Li Jian sat cross-legged on his unmade futon, staring at the still-floating phone.
It hovered peacefully beside a dying potted cactus, glowing faintly.
"Explain your current cultivation level," Sheng Tai demanded.
"Uh… sophomore in high school. Failed chemistry last semester."
"You possess no spiritual foundation? No elemental affinity?"
"Well, I did once set off the fire alarm trying to microwave tea."
"You are unrefined. Untrained. Pathetic!"
"Thanks, Grandpa Siri."
"And yet… you released me."
"Pretty sure lightning did that. Not me."
"Nonetheless. You bear karmic responsibility. You must assist me in reclaiming my corporeal form. In return, I shall teach you the Dao."
Li Jian raised an eyebrow. "The what now?"
"The Way of the Enlightenment. The Spiritual cultivation. You shall become… my disciple!"
"I barely have time to finish homework. You think I have time for glowy punchy soul nonsense?"
"You possess no choice. My spirit is bound to this mirror. If you abandon cultivation, my essence will fade… and your device shall be cursed forevermore!"
The phone sparked and the Wi-Fi connection is immediately disconnected.
Li Jian gasped. "Okay, okay! Deal! Just bring my signal back!"
⸻
Jian grabbed the nearest piece of paper — an old pizza delivery flyer — and scribbled down:
"I, Li Jian, agree to become a temporary disciple of one (1) spirit grandpa named Sheng Tai, for a trial period of seven days. In return, he will not fry my phone or haunt my browser history. Signed, the unwilling participant."
The phone buzzed and a golden glyph flashed. The flyer caught fire and dissolved into smoke.
"The pact is sealed."
Jian coughed. "That could've been a fire hazard, you know!"
"This marks the first step on your path."
"To what? Enlightenment?"
"No. Tea brewing. You need spiritual cleansing. And that burger you ate is an insult to all five elements."
⸻
Later that night, as Li Jian brushed his teeth and tried to ignore the phone lecturing him from the bathroom sink, he made a few mental notes:
• His phone could talk.
• The voice inside it claimed to be some kind of ancient immortal.
• Said immortal was now tutoring him in a field he had exactly zero talent in.
• Also, apparently his qi was "flabby."
"You must meditate beneath a waterfall at dawn."
"I live in a studio, not in a wuxia novel."
"Then at least sit near a running tap. You must circulate Qi!"
Li Jian sighed.
Somewhere between brushing his teeth with cold tap water and being told his "toothpaste aura" was out of balance, he realized something important.
This was either a spiritual awakening… or a really elaborate stress dream caused by too much instant ramen.
Either way, tomorrow would be weirder.
He crawled into bed, looked at the hovering phone, and muttered, "If you start talking while I sleep, I will mute you."
"Blasphemy."