LOT -Chapter 323 Childhood Arc: I’m Already the Main System, Why Do I Still Have to Compete?

The Lin family didn’t have many descendants, but every generation produced talent, and they had never declined.

To outsiders, the Lin family had a good background, outstanding looks, strict upbringing, and raised children who were exceptionally well‑mannered.

At least—that’s how it looked from the outside. In reality, the Lin family was… not quite the same as the rumors.

Old Master Lin had once held the position of Grand Tutor and was highly respected. But the moment the new emperor ascended the throne, he immediately resigned and returned home. He then spent his days happily establishing various academies and lived to a very old and healthy ninety‑plus years.

Master Lin (the current elder) had served as the Imperial Chancellor, and truly—his disciples filled the empire. Countless officials in today’s court had been promoted by him.

However, he had once offended the former emperor. But even then, the former emperor didn’t dare truly punish him and only kept him at arm’s length.

After the current emperor ascended the throne, Master Lin followed his father’s example and immediately resigned, then traveled the world with his wife and in‑laws.

As for Minister Lin (Lin Shangshu), outsiders also thought he was rigid, steady, and incredibly orderly—but in front of his wife, he was a completely different person.

It seemed Old Master Lin and Master Lin were the same—this temperament really did pass down the line.

Except… all the personalities of these ancestors seemed to have accumulated in Lin Mo, and even surpassed them.

Lin Mo hadn’t been this unrestrained in her past life. Probably genetics were influencing her now.

Madam Lin often found it funny—outsiders believed the Lin family had been noble and prestigious for generations, blessed by ancestors without a break.

Other families usually collapsed by the third generation. The Lin family didn’t even know how many generations had passed, and while others had many children and grandchildren, the Lin family produced only one or two each generation.

Outsiders sometimes worried they might die out—but they didn’t. Each generation’s one or two children were outstanding. Whether sons or daughters, none had ever failed.

That was why scholars respected the Lin family so deeply. Unfortunately… the ancestral blessings seemed to have hit a blockage when it came to the youngest daughter.

Thankfully, they still had an older son and daughter. No matter what, the youngest child’s future was secure. Besides, both parents were healthy—they could protect her for a long time.

Lin Mo had no idea her parents had already mapped out her future.

A couple of days later, another package arrived from Master Lin, along with a letter for Lin Mo.

She and her grandfather had become pen pals—and they insulted each other regularly.

Master Lin cared about all three grandchildren. The eldest grandson and granddaughter wrote letters full of concern for his health. But the youngest granddaughter… treated letters like wish lists.

Whenever she learned where he was going next, her letters were full of requests for every kind of local specialty. If she could, she would ask him to fetch the moon from the sky or grab turtles from the riverbed.

Master Lin really couldn’t understand how their family had produced such a child.

Sure, privately they weren’t as rigid as they looked, but none of them had ever been this wild and unrestrained.

And at five years old, the little girl’s handwriting was still atrocious—like chicken scratches scattered all over the page. Some characters were so illegible she replaced them with symbols. Thankfully, the sentences were mostly coherent, so he could guess the meaning with effort.

He had never needed to guess his way through a letter before. It was truly a first.

“Madam, do you think Huan’er has really taught Mo’er properly? Look at this handwriting—my eyes hurt.”

Master Lin didn’t even want to look at it. Some characters were so confusing she simply doodled something to fool him. He could only muddle his way through, half‑guessing.

Old Madam Lin chuckled. “You know perfectly well our little granddaughter is like that. If you don’t want to read it, the Wen old man enjoys them. Be grateful she’s even writing to you.”

The four elders were living happily now, occasionally writing letters. Life was pleasant.

It wasn’t that they didn’t miss their children and grandchildren—it was simply that, at their age, if they didn’t travel now, they wouldn’t be able to later.

“Children and grandchildren have their own destinies.” They had lived long enough in the capital.

As Lin Mo grew, the household became more chaotic by the day.

Master Lin and the elders wrote less frequently now, saying they were beginning “seclusion and study.”

And their place of retreat was fixed—they could be visited whenever convenient.

At first, Lin Mo thought the four elders had become monks and even wrote to persuade them not to renounce worldly life. She almost angered the four old people to death.

Cultivation was not becoming monks—it was simply nurturing their spirits and focusing on themselves. After traveling all these years and collecting countless documents, they needed time to organize everything.

It would take at least ten years. And they could still travel occasionally, since the children were settled in the capital.

After learning this, Lin Mo gave them a big thumbs‑up. Their mindset was so open.

In this era, elders spent their entire lives meddling in their descendants’ lives. Some matriarchs in the capital clung to power so tightly they controlled their children, daughters‑in‑law, grandchildren—even grandchildren’s spouses.

Compared to them, her four elders were truly enlightened.

Meanwhile Lin Mo caused chaos daily at home, and the system was on the verge of losing its mind.

“Is there no normal world? How do those systems survive in all those bizarre worlds? The worlds you brought me to before weren’t this strange!”

In recent years, the system had visited many worlds. The normal ones were too normal—no drama to enjoy. The abnormal ones had drama everywhere—so much that there was no point watching, because everyone was numb to it.

Is there even anything to gossip about in such worlds?

The main system lazily replied,
“That’s why I told you to visit more worlds.”

“Why did I ask you to start working earlier? Because all the good worlds get picked first! You wasted so much time—who’s to blame?”

The melon‑eating system exploded, “But you never told me I had to pick good worlds myself!”

Main system: “Well you didn’t ask.”

The two systems stared at each other—each fully confident in their own logic.

After a few seconds of silence, the melon‑eating system said seriously, “I finally understand why the previous melon‑eating system rebelled.”

Main system: “Hmph! It was just jealous!”

As an “excellent main system,” how could he ever be wrong? He was very lenient—never giving harsh assignments.

But that former melon‑eating system was a competition maniac. It not only worked itself to death but even wanted the main system to compete alongside it, judging him unworthy of being the main system.

But he was already the main system—why would he compete?! Did he have nothing better to do?