I only wanted to kill a chicken, not split the heaven

Li Ming knew the timeline was fixed when the sun rose at a normal hour, the trees didn't hum, and no one worshiped their pillow.

For the first time in weeks, he actually felt peace.

Then a letter fell from the sky and slapped him in the face.

He peeled it off. The parchment was glowing with official Heavenly Script.

Bai Guo squinted at it. "Looks serious. Smells like paperwork."

Li Ming unfolded it.

> By decree of the Celestial Registry of Reincarnations and Temporal Misconducts—

Li Ming, Dream Patriarch, is hereby summoned to answer for crimes against chronological integrity.

Failure to attend will result in spontaneous enlightenment and immediate dispersal.

Li Ming blinked. "They're going to kill me with enlightenment?"

Lei Shan yawned. "Sounds efficient."

---

The sky cracked open before he could reply.

A massive lotus-shaped platform descended, covered in glowing seals. On it stood… clerks.

Dozens of them, dressed in heavenly uniforms, holding abacuses and scrolls thicker than mortal libraries.

The lead one, a tall woman with silver hair and an expression of eternal annoyance, called out,

"Li Ming, Realm Identity Number: Currently Illegal! You are charged with—"

She unrolled a scroll that hit the ground. "—one thousand and twelve violations of timeline harmony, improper use of cause-and-effect, and emotional damage to fate."

Li Ming rubbed his temple. "I see bureaucracy survived the heavens."

Bai Guo whispered, "I'd rather fight a dragon."

Lei Shan puffed his chest. "I could bite her paperwork."

Li Ming sighed. "No biting divine auditors."

---

They brought him onto the lotus platform. Inside was a floating courtroom made entirely of light and incense smoke.

Celestial judges hovered in meditation, their faces hidden behind masks of balance and law.

"State your defense," the silver-haired auditor said.

Li Ming raised a hand. "I didn't intend to break time."

"Intent does not absolve impact," she said coolly. "You formed six unauthorized sects, disrupted the Flow of Sleep, created a paradoxical chicken saint, and weaponized leisure."

"That last one wasn't my fault," Li Ming said quickly. "The chicken was self-motivated."

Bai Guo snorted. "You did feed it lightning pills."

The auditor's quill hovered ominously. "Feeding lightning to poultry. Add that to the record."

Li Ming took a slow breath. "Alright. What happens if I'm found guilty?"

"You will be assigned to temporal correction duty," she said. "You will fix cause and effect… from inside it."

"Inside what?"

---

She clapped her hands.

The lotus platform dissolved.

The world around him warped, rippled, bent backward—and suddenly, Li Ming was standing in a vast endless archive filled with spinning hourglasses and glowing threads of time.

A thousand spectral cultivators were at desks, rewriting reality with brushes made of starlight.

Above them, a golden plaque read:

Department of Heavenly Accounting: Cause & Effect Division

Bai Guo's eyes widened. "You're in Heaven's office."

Lei Shan tilted his head. "So this is where destiny gets misfiled."

A celestial clerk floated over and dropped a glowing scroll on Li Ming's desk. "Welcome, Temporary Assistant Li Ming. Your first task: review reincarnation case #88401. Soul reports interference due to one of your time ripples."

Li Ming unrolled it—and froze.

It was his own handwriting in the mortal record.

Future him had written annotations all over it.

> If you're reading this, congrats. You broke the loop.

Now do your job. The next ripple starts with you—but don't worry, it's funny.

Li Ming exhaled slowly. "I hate myself."

Lei Shan snorted. "You're your own boss and employee."

Bai Guo perched on the desk. "That's not recursion—that's karma doing improv."

---

Hours later, after accidentally approving three souls into the wrong lifetimes and correcting a reincarnation that turned a dragon into a peach farmer, Li Ming slammed his head on the desk.

"I'm done. I'm never touching fate again."

The silver-haired auditor reappeared behind him. "Good. Because you're being transferred."

"To where?"

She smiled faintly. "The Department of Unexplained Phenomena."

"What's that?"

"The division that investigates… you."

The floor vanished beneath him.

---

Li Ming fell—past clouds, past mountains, through a shimmering web of destiny—

and landed face-first in a field of spiritual bamboo.

Bai Guo landed on his back. "Ow."

Lei Shan's head popped out of his robe. "Where are we?"

Li Ming sat up slowly, staring ahead.

A dozen cultivators were standing there in uniform robes that shimmered between past and future. Their leader stepped forward, bowing slightly.

"Agent Li Ming," she said. "Welcome to the Bureau."

"Bureau of what?"

She smiled. "The Bureau of You."

---

Li Ming stared at the silver-haired auditor, wondering if enlightenment-by-paperwork counted as a respectable way to die.

The lotus platform shimmered beneath his feet as celestial clerks scribbled, stamped, and sighed all around him. One of them was actually filing a thundercloud.

"Li Ming, Dream Patriarch," the silver-haired woman intoned, "your timeline has been stabilized—barely—but your existence remains a variable."

Li Ming blinked. "A variable?"

"Unquantifiable, unpredictable, and deeply annoying to cosmic balance."

Bai Guo whispered, "She says that like it's a compliment."

Lei Shan puffed up his fur. "It is."

The woman continued, "As of this moment, you are reassigned to temporary service under the Department of Unexplained Phenomena—also known as…" She paused dramatically.

Li Ming groaned. "Please don't say it."

She smiled faintly. "The Bureau of You."

---

Li Ming found himself standing in a bamboo courtyard, surrounded by glowing pavilions that existed slightly out of sync with reality. Some buildings shimmered between past and future; one was labeled "Tea Room (Under Construction, 300 Years Ago)."

A young cultivator approached him, bowing. "Welcome, Senior Li Ming! You've been assigned to the Bureau's field division. We specialize in… anomalies caused by you."

"Wait," Li Ming said. "So you study my accidents?"

The man nodded earnestly. "Indeed! Thanks to your prior mishaps, we've had a century's worth of case studies."

Bai Guo whistled. "You're basically a department now."

Lei Shan scratched his ear. "Can we charge rent?"

---

They led Li Ming into a vast hall where glowing threads of Qi hung in the air like constellations. Each one shimmered with memory.

"This," said the guide proudly, "is the Archive of Li Ming. Every ripple you've ever caused, neatly recorded and… lightly censored."

He gestured to one glowing thread labeled:

'Incident: Enlightened Chicken Ascension'

and another:

'Temporal Loop #7 – Pillow Worship Era'

Li Ming covered his face. "Burn them. Burn everything."

"Can't," the clerk said cheerfully. "Heaven turned your mistakes into study material for karmic management training."

---

Before Li Ming could argue, a stack of scrolls floated into his arms.

"Your assignment, Senior," the clerk said. "Review anomalies caused by your past self."

Li Ming opened the first scroll.

> "A cultivator named Old Man Zhao claims his dreams are haunted by a talking thunder beast demanding royalties."

Lei Shan looked smug. "He owes me royalties."

Next scroll:

> "Spiritual chickens forming religious sects in the south."

Bai Guo folded his wings. "You're welcome."

Li Ming's eyelid twitched. "I'm living in a cosmic HR nightmare."

---

As the hours passed, he handled the cases one by one—each stranger than the last. A monk who turned invisible whenever someone complimented him. A sect that achieved enlightenment through laziness. A pond that kept reincarnating itself as tea.

Finally, he pushed the pile away. "I'm done. I've achieved paperwork enlightenment."

The silver-haired auditor appeared again, somehow looking even more unimpressed.

"Excellent," she said. "Because now that you've processed your own karmic debris, you're eligible for your next role."

Li Ming groaned. "Please tell me it's not janitor."

"Even better," she said. "Field investigator."

The ground rippled beneath him.

"Wait—"

He fell through the floor, spinning through layers of light, until he landed—face-first—in another bamboo field.

Bai Guo hit the ground beside him. "You really need to learn to land upright."

Lei Shan poked his head out. "Where are we now?"

Li Ming sat up slowly as several robed figures approached. Their uniforms shimmered with the energy of time and fate.

The leader, a calm woman with an amused smile, bowed.

"Agent Li Ming," she said. "Welcome to the Bureau of You."

Li Ming blinked. "…How many of me are there?"

"Currently?" She tapped her clipboard. "Three active, two retired, one missing, and one writing this scene."

Li Ming paled. "I hate everything."

To be continued...