Class was over.
Students filed out of the classroom one after another.
Xia Lun wasn’t in a hurry. He, along with Aina and Liyana, were the last to leave.
So was the old professor named Enlaisi.
"Xia Lun."
Just as Xia Lun was about to step out the door, Enlaisi suddenly called out to him.
"Is something the matter, Professor?"
Xia Lun stopped and finally took a proper look at the professor.
Enlaisi appeared to be in his fifties or sixties, his hair half-gray, with few wrinkles on his face—likely due to good upkeep.
He wore a gray jacket over a light yellow short-sleeved shirt, paired with jeans. A small pipe rested in his chest pocket, and his other pocket bulged slightly, holding a spare pair of glasses.
For his age, it was rare to see someone dressed so fashionably, let alone a historian.
After all, in most people’s minds, old professors who studied history were the epitome of stuffiness.
Enlaisi took out his pipe, pulled a pinch of tobacco from seemingly nowhere, packed it into the bowl, and snapped his fingers. A small flame flickered at his fingertips as he lit the pipe, exhaling a slow stream of smoke.
The whole motion was smooth, elegant, and effortlessly cool—Xia Lun couldn’t help but stare.
"Pretty slick, huh?" Enlaisi chuckled between puffs. "I used to be quite the playboy back in the day… My body might be old now, but my spirit hasn’t aged a day."
"Honestly… I wouldn’t have guessed," Xia Lun replied.
During lectures, the professor occasionally cracked jokes, and Xia Lun had assumed it was just an act to connect with the younger students. Turns out, that was just how he was.
Enlaisi removed his glasses, and his demeanor shifted instantly—from a scholarly old professor to a silver-haired charmer who’d seen it all.
"When I was young, I was just like you—surrounded by admirers," Enlaisi remarked, eyeing Aina and Liyana beside Xia Lun.
"Xia Lun and I are just friends," Liyana clarified.
Enlaisi gave a knowing smirk. "I don’t believe in such things as ‘just friends’ between men and women…"
Liyana deadpanned, "I’m gay."
Enlaisi, one hand braced against the lectern and the other holding his pipe, bent over in a coughing fit, nearly choking on his smoke.
Liyana helpfully patted his back.
After a moment, he straightened up, catching his breath. "Alright, now I believe you."
Then, Enlaisi turned his attention back to Xia Lun.
"Xia Lun, the theory you brought up in class today was quite intriguing… I’d like to know—was that your own speculation, or did you hear it from someone else?"
His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a serious tone.
It was something he’d recalled himself… but Xia Lun obviously couldn’t say that.
"I overheard it in a tavern," Xia Lun lied casually.
"Oh… a tavern, was it?" Enlaisi’s brow furrowed slightly.
"Is something wrong, Professor Enlaisi?"
"Nothing major." Enlaisi waved a hand dismissively. "Recently, a group called the Twilight Apostles has emerged—a dangerous cult. They’ve been spreading rumors about the Hero, and what you mentioned in class bears an uncanny resemblance… So, I wondered if you might have crossed paths with one of them."
"That sounds terrible. I’d rather not get involved with any cultists," Xia Lun feigned concern.
In truth, he’d love nothing more than for them to seek him out—so he could ask them directly.
Aina watched Xia Lun’s performance with amusement.
"Which tavern did you hear this in?" Enlaisi pressed. "I’ll have Headmaster Wolund send someone to investigate."
Xia Lun hesitated, then forced out, "Kro City."
Having been out of touch with the world for so long, Kro City was the only place he could name with confidence—unsure which other cities still thrived or had faded into history.
"Kro City… That city does have deep ties to the Hero. It’s very possible those fanatics have a presence there," Enlaisi mused.
Xia Lun studied Enlaisi thoughtfully. "Professor, have you dealt with these Twilight Apostles before?"
"Ah, yes." Enlaisi didn’t deny it. "A few of my old colleagues in the history department became Twilight Apostles. They even sent me letters, trying to recruit me… That’s why I’m wary of them."
His explanation held no obvious holes.
"What kind of people are they?" Xia Lun asked, curious.
"Cultists—by definition, they’re not exactly sane." Enlaisi took a long drag from his pipe. "But under normal circumstances, they seem perfectly ordinary. In their letters, I couldn’t detect anything off. I had no idea they’d joined the Twilight Apostles… Yet, to revive the legendary Hero, they’d sacrifice anything, commit any atrocity."
Xia Lun said, "You should be careful, then."
"Thank you, I will." Enlaisi nodded gravely, then added, "I know full well that what they’re trying to resurrect isn’t the Hero Xia Lun—it’s something far more sinister. The true Hero would never seek revival at the cost of innocent lives. If that were the case…"
He glanced meaningfully at Xia Lun.
Xia Lun played along. "If that were the case…?"
Enlaisi burst into laughter, clapping Xia Lun on the shoulder. "Then I might as well believe you’re the real Hero, Xia Lun!"
Leaving Xia Lun "stunned" in place, Enlaisi waved and strode off, thoroughly pleased with himself.
"HAHAHA!" Liyana doubled over, clutching Xia Lun’s shoulder as she laughed uncontrollably. "This is priceless, Xia Lun! Coming here with you was definitely the right call."
"Is it really that funny?" Xia Lun brushed her hand off.
"Absolutely! If—just if—Professor Enlaisi ever finds out the truth about you, I can’t even imagine the look on his face…"
...
As evening approached, Xia Lun returned to his dorm.
Calling the sprawling estate before him a "dorm" felt like an understatement.
Xia Lun had intended to live in the same student apartments as everyone else, but Wolund had insisted on this place, calling it a token of respect for his lineage.
After some persuasion from Aina, Xia Lun had relented.
"Ugh, I’m exhausted. I’m turning in—won’t disturb you two." Liyana shot Xia Lun a mischievous grin, gave his shoulder an encouraging pat, and vanished on the spot.
Xia Lun entered his room, acutely aware of a pair of burning eyes locked onto him.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh… Aina?"
"I’m here."
Aina pressed close, her arms encircling Xia Lun's neck.
A vampire's body temperature should naturally be slightly lower than a human's, but the Aina in his embrace was clearly an exception.
Then, the Demon King unfurled his crimson wings.

rowess are unmatched, commanding a million-strong army! Yet, the Emperor wants to depose him for the sake of a false prince? Hold on, are you throwing me into some female-oriented romance plot? How can I tolerate this? With a grand wave of his hand—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! Slander the Emperor? Very well, all of you shall die! ... The False Prince: "Although I am not the biological son, Father and Mother love me more. The throne should be mine!" The Female Lead: "Qin Xiao, you are the Emperor, and I am a commoner. If you wish to marry me, you must abdicate. Otherwise, you will never have me!" The Empress: "After we divorce, you must give me half the empire!" The Transmigrator Consort: "You worthless Emperor, why should I kneel to you? All men are equal—I advise you to be kind!" The Great General: "The enemy general is my childhood sweetheart. For her sake, I willingly abandon the frontier defenses!" The Retired Emperor: "Although Yu'er was adopted, I prefer him. Qin Xiao, you should abdicate and let him become Emperor!" ... Very well! So this is how you want to play? Facing this twisted world of female-oriented tropes, Qin Xiao grins and raises his hand to unleash—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! I am the Emperor. Why would I bother reasoning with you? Seal the gates! Leave none alive!

transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”

e, Immortal Body, Transmigration, System, Progression Fantasy, Academy Setting, Third-Person Perspective. Alternate Title: Transmigrating into a High Martial World and Reading Live Comments. Bad news: I transmigrated. This is a terrifying high-martial world, and my original, pathetically weak body fell into a coma and never woke up. Good news: I got a Popularity Points system upon arrival. I can see live comments and even create an unkillable alternate identity. Starting out, the alternate identity has all stats at 1. The system tells me that to grow stronger, I must participate in the plot, gain popularity points to allocate stats and grow stronger, and ultimately awaken my original body. And so, carrying my original body on my back, I officially entered Huaqing Academy, where the story's protagonist resides. From that moment on, Chen Guan kicked the original plot to pieces. Live Comments: [Doesn't anyone find this mysterious coffin guy creepy? He can summon indescribable grey misty hands.] [Is this guy a hero or a villain? What kind of onion became a spirit?] [By the way, does anyone know who's in the coffin? Shouldn't the debt for saving his life be repaid by now?] [According to unofficial histories, the person in the coffin was Chen Guan's first love. Their love was once passionate and earth-shattering, but they were separated by life and death due to worldly circumstances. What a star-crossed pair.] ... Years later, the world knew of a demon god born from a coffin, shrouded in grey mist, impossible to gaze upon directly. His foremost divine emissary often wielded a scythe, reaping lives like the god of death. As war approached, facing former friends and a boundless sea of enemies, Chen Guan merely raised his scythe. "Would you like to dance as well?"

close your eyes and open them again, only to find yourself transmigrated into the role of a villainous male supporting character. Readers familiar with urban wish-fulfillment novels know that it is only through the relentless antics of the villainous male supporting character that the plot between the male and female leads can progress. As the villainous male supporting character, Long Aotian not only has to bully the female lead, harass the second female lead, and flirt with the third female lead, but he also has to go all out to antagonize the male lead. In the end, when his body is discovered, he is still clutching half a moldy fried dough stick in his hand. Fully aware of the plot, Long Aotian is determined to change his fate, starting with the female lead! In the beginning, the female lead lacks confidence: "Big brother, I hope I didn't scare you?" In the middle, the female lead treads carefully: "Brother Long, please don't hit me, okay?" Later on, the female lead becomes coquettishly clingy: "Aotian, it's time to pay the 'public grain' tonight." Long Aotian's legs go weak, and he feels like crying: "I taught you to be thick-skinned, not shameless!"