Ye Shuang drove Bai Yuyou to school, even openly parking in the underground garage. After all, the automatic gate recognized the vehicle, and with many teachers driving to work, the security guards didn’t bother checking who was entering the campus.
"Alright, we’ll part ways here. Even if we run into each other, don’t greet me, understand?" Ye Shuang instructed at the stairwell.
Bai Yuyou glanced at Ye Shuang’s refined attire and nodded obediently.
Ye Shuang let Bai Yuyou walk ahead while following behind, climbing the stairs until they emerged from the basement parking lot onto the first floor of the academic building, not far from the school gates.
"Go on."
"Mm."
Watching Bai Yuyou gradually blend into the crowd of students, Ye Shuang reached into his pocket and popped a candy into his mouth.
"Good morning, Teacher Bai." A voice greeted him from the side. Ye Shuang turned to see Chen Yue, the homeroom teacher of Class B.
"Teacher Chen, everything settled?" Ye Shuang smiled.
Chen Yue replied gratefully, "Yes, thank you for covering my class the other day. I wanted to thank you earlier, but I couldn’t find your name in the teachers’ group chat. What’s your WeChat ID?"
"My WeChat got frozen due to malware. It’ll take a month to unlock," Ye Shuang fabricated casually.
Chen Yue nodded in understanding. "No wonder I couldn’t find you in the group. Are you heading to your class now?"
"Not yet. I just parked. I’ll go later—after all, I’m not the homeroom teacher," Ye Shuang chuckled.
"Ugh, being a Chinese teacher is rough. Not only do we have to manage homeroom duties, but we’re also swamped with trivial tasks," Chen Yue sighed. "Sending notifications means contacting every single parent. Most of the day gets wasted on chores, leaving no time to focus on teaching."
"True enough," Ye Shuang agreed.
"And the homeroom stipend is only 400 yuan more than regular teachers, but the workload is easily double. I don’t even want to be a homeroom teacher anymore—it feels like aging from stress," Chen Yue vented, encouraged by Ye Shuang’s sympathy.
"Sometimes the school sends notifications at 11 p.m., demanding we contact parents immediately. Do they even consider that some parents are already asleep? And then we get scolded by them. Homeroom teachers barely get proper rest, let alone time to educate students properly."
"That’s the digital age for you. Back when the internet wasn’t so pervasive, teaching wasn’t this exhausting," Ye Shuang remarked, recalling his own past as an educator.
"Exactly! One time, a parent blamed me because their kid fell during summer break. What does that have to do with me?" Chen Yue grumbled. "Being a homeroom teacher is like being a workhorse."
"That’s why every school is short on Chinese teachers," Ye Shuang consoled. "At least there’s winter and summer vacation, right?"
"That’s the only perk. Anyway, enough complaining," Chen Yue said. "Midterms are coming up, so I need to crack down on their studies. Otherwise, we’ll rank last."
Midterms?
Ye Shuang wondered how Bai Yuyou was doing academically.
Probably poorly.
"Oh, by the way, Teacher Bai, did you hear about what happened to your distant relative’s child yesterday?" Chen Yue suddenly asked.
"I know. I was there," Ye Shuang said.
"Oh, was that parent also your relative?" Chen Yue continued. "They seemed really aggressive—slapped the student twice in the video. It was shocking. I wonder if they’ll get arrested."
As she spoke, Chen Yue noticed Ye Shuang bore some resemblance to the man in the video. But then again, relatives often looked alike.
"No arrest. The student wouldn’t dare call the police—she’d be the first one detained," Ye Shuang said lightly.
"At most, it’d be defamation. She’s lucky no one reported her."
"True. That student was awful. I’d only seen stuff like that online—never thought it’d happen at our school."
Ye Shuang found Chen Yue quite the conversationalist, even veering into topics like her cat’s ability to do somersaults. Fortunately, Ye Shuang was equally talkative. Only when the bell rang did Chen Yue hurry back to her class.
"Class has started. Wonder how Bai Yuyou’s doing." Ye Shuang considered checking on Class A but held back. After yesterday’s incident, the homeroom teacher would undoubtedly be there for the first period.
And since he’d met that teacher before, being spotted might expose his identity.
"Better find an empty classroom to rest."
Yinshan Academy, spanning over 4,000 acres with decades of history, boasted lakes, hills, and countless lecture halls for upperclassmen. Many larger classrooms often sat unused, so Ye Shuang decided to kill time in one.
...
Homeroom teacher Li Chunhua entered Class 3-A. As Ye Shuang predicted, though the first period wasn’t his, the school had converted it into a mandatory ethics lecture to reinforce moral education.
Li Chunhua had already been reprimanded by the principal over yesterday’s incident. Now, this extra class—not a rescheduled one, but a flat-out addition—only worsened his mood.
Headache.
With his workload unjustly increased, Li Chunhua stormed into the classroom and smacked the lectern with a ruler.
"Quiet! I could hear you from the stairs! Out of all third-year classes, yours is the noisiest!"
"You all know what happened yesterday. Frankly, you’re the worst batch I’ve ever taught!"
As the class gradually fell silent, Li Chunhua steadied his temper and continued,
"Wu Ya has been expelled. Several others have received disciplinary records. The rest of you, take this as a warning."
"You’re students. Your job is to study, not meddle in nonsense. Do you really think you’re so impressive?"
At the news of Wu Ya’s expulsion, the students exchanged glances and whispered among themselves.
"Damn, I thought Wu Ya was just suspended. Didn’t expect her to get kicked out?"
"Haven’t you heard? Rumor has it that ‘Stinky Girl’ has a powerful relative—some guy who drives a sports car to school. When he found out Wu Ya bullied her, he slapped her twice. Even the police didn’t dare arrest him."
"Really? I heard no one called the cops. But I also heard ‘Stinky Girl’ is actually some rich family’s long-lost heiress. Wu Ya messed with the wrong person."
"Could be. Haven’t you noticed ‘Stinky Girl’ looking prettier lately? She doesn’t even smell anymore. Money really does change people."
"Shh, the teacher looks pissed. Stop talking."
end. Thus one must continue to cultivate, and become a saint or great emperor, in order to prolong one's life. Chen Xia, however, completely reversed this. Since his transmigration, he has gained immortality, and also a system that awards him with attribute points for every year he lives. Thus between the myriad worlds, the legend of an unparalleled senior appeared. "A gentleman takes revenge; it is never too late even after ten thousand years." "When you were at your peak I yielded, now in your old age I shall trample on you." - Chen Xia
pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
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.”
