Everyone’s attention turned to the person who had spoken.
It was none other than Su Mingzhao.
Both Lin Mo and the instructor heard it clearly.
Instructor Qian frowned, glancing at Lin Mo and then at Xu Sheng, who was hanging his head low.
Xu Sheng remained silent, unsure whether he should acknowledge the matter.
Seeing this, the instructor turned to Lin Mo.
Lin Mo maintained his composed and unyielding demeanor.
"Fine, if that’s the case, you’ll run twenty laps for him. Aside from standing at attention, he won’t have to practice marching or goose-stepping."
Instructor Qian was certain this kid wouldn’t agree to such a self-sacrificing act.
Even if he did, who would care?
He swept his gaze over the students before him.
They had just started school and barely knew each other.
But if the kid actually went through with it, he wouldn’t be too harsh—whether Lin Mo was just saving face or genuinely trying to help a classmate, he’d probably let him off after a few laps.
Still, Instructor Qian doubted the boy would agree.
"Alright! I’ll do it."
"Since you refuse, then just keep—... Huh?"
Everyone was stunned, including Xu Sheng himself.
He didn’t know Lin Mo at all, yet here he was, agreeing without hesitation.
This time, Xu Sheng spoke up.
"Lin Mo, it’s fine. I can keep training."
But Lin Mo simply waved him off and raised his head to look at the instructor.
"Then, Instructor, I’ll start running now."
With that, Lin Mo took off.
No wonder the system had assigned a running task today—it wouldn’t waste his time. A good thing, really.
Watching Lin Mo begin his laps, Instructor Qian opened his mouth but said nothing.
He just pointed at Xu Sheng.
"Step out and rest. If he can’t finish, you’re back in line!"
Xu Sheng blinked. He didn’t feel particularly tired, but he complied, his eyes following Lin Mo as he ran.
"Ugh~ So heroic, running twenty laps for a classmate. What an idiot."
Su Mingzhao sneered from the sidelines.
He didn’t notice the classmates subtly distancing themselves from him.
Instructor Qian heard it too but said nothing, simply ordering the students to resume marching drills.
Without Xu Sheng, the training progressed even faster.
Seeing Lin Mo still running, Instructor Qian whistled sharply, signaling him to come over.
Lin Mo jogged over slowly.
"Yes?"
The blunt reply left Instructor Qian momentarily speechless.
"Fall back in line. You don’t have to run anymore. Consider this matter settled."
But Lin Mo stayed in place, shaking his head.
"No. I made a promise, so I’ll see it through. Besides marching, he still has goose-stepping to deal with—that’s a problem for him. So I won’t rejoin the ranks. I’ll keep running."
With that, he resumed his laps.
Instructor Qian frowned and gestured for Xu Sheng to approach.
Xu Sheng, who had been sitting on the flowerbed, hurried over.
"Let me ask you—do you actually have this condition?"
Xu Sheng hesitated, unsure whether to claim he did.
He’d never had this issue before, so why was it happening now?
But denying it would mean betraying Lin Mo.
Gritting his teeth, he said, "Instructor, I really do have this problem. I—"
"Tell me the truth. I’ll have your homeroom teacher verify it."
Instructor Qian was no rookie—he spotted the guilt in Xu Sheng’s eyes instantly.
Hearing this, Xu Sheng deflated.
Finally, he shook his head.
"I don’t know. I never used to march like this before."
Instructor Qian’s frown deepened, but he just waved Xu Sheng away.
Meanwhile, Lin Mo kept running.
Jiang Yunlu, still in formation, couldn’t fathom why Lin Mo was doing this.
Wasn’t marching drills easier than running twenty laps?
"Anyone know how many laps he’s done?"
"Fifteen!" Someone in the class had been keeping count.
Honestly, while some thought Lin Mo was foolish, they admired him all the more.
After all, they didn’t know if Xu Sheng and Lin Mo were actually classmates.
To them, Lin Mo was standing up for a peer—even if it was dumb, it was dumb for a friend.
That made all the difference.
The final five laps completed.
A notification chimed in Lin Mo’s mind.
[Daily Task: Complete footwork training around the sect’s training grounds without rest (20/20 laps)]
[Task Complete]
[Reward: Qi-Nurturing Pill x1]
Lin Mo thought: A Qi-Nurturing Pill—must be an aid for refining Qi.
Last night, he’d cultivated a nascent Qi Sea, where absorbed spiritual energy was refined into usable power.
Finishing the twenty laps, Lin Mo returned to Instructor Qian, panting heavily.
"Reporting, Instructor. Twenty laps completed."
Instructor Qian studied Lin Mo, then Xu Sheng, before sighing.
"Fine. Since you’ve run the laps, he’s exempt from marching and goose-stepping drills."
"Thank you, Instructor."
Lin Mo returned to his position.
He made sure to keep breathing hard—if he showed no exhaustion, people might think him a monster.
Each lap of Guangba High’s track was 400 meters.
Eight kilometers in one go.
No problem for a soldier, but for a student? Brutal.
Yet his rowmates looked at him with newfound respect.
Now that was a real man.
Su Mingzhao, however, just scoffed from the back.
......
At noon, the training session ended.
Xu Sheng immediately sought out Lin Mo.
"Thank you, Lin Mo. Let me treat you to lunch. You’ve probably pissed off the instructor—he’ll likely call my parents through the homeroom teacher soon."
Xu Sheng sighed but was grateful.
He didn’t resent Lin Mo for claiming he had a condition—after all, his marching had been holding everyone back.
But Lin Mo grabbed Xu Sheng’s shoulder.
"I wasn’t joking. You might actually be sick. You never had this issue before, right?
An old neighbor of mine used to walk normally, then suddenly started marching like you. Turned out it was a cerebral vascular blockage.
So you should take leave now and get your parents to take you to the hospital."
Lin Mo’s tone was deadly serious.
Xu Sheng paled, licking his lips before bolting toward the classroom.
Watching Xu Sheng run—still marching awkwardly—Lin Mo hoped he’d live a full life.
Cerebral vascular blockages could lead to cerebellar atrophy.
In his past life, Xu Sheng had deteriorated from it, and Lin Mo never heard from him again.
Yawning, Lin Mo headed for the school gate—he wasn’t fond of cafeteria food.
Just as he stepped out, a voice called from behind.
"Lin Mo."
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.”
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!
world slacker. But a genius female disciple just had to get clingy, insisting that he take her as a disciple. Not only that, she was always making advances on him, thoroughly disrupting his peaceful slacker life...
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?!
