"That's not right. Just because it's slightly bigger, you're charging two thousand more? That's way too greedy."
He frowned at Lin Mo.
"Kids these days shouldn't be so unreasonable."
Lin Mo also furrowed his brows, eyeing the man who was lecturing him.
"Do you even know who I am?"
The man was momentarily taken aback by Lin Mo's blunt question. After a pause, he could only reply, "No, I don’t."
"If you don’t know, then why are you meddling? Business is about mutual agreement. What’s it to you?"
The man’s temper flared at Lin Mo’s retort.
He pointed at the bighead carp in the tank.
"Even if we don’t buy yours, we can get someone else’s for ten thousand."
But as soon as he finished, Lin Mo smirked coldly.
"Sorry to disappoint, but this fish is mine, and that one’s mine too."
Lin Mo turned to the middle-aged man, immediately recognizing him as the one in charge.
"Since he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, I’m adding another thousand. Fair enough?"
His tone was conversational, but his words left no room for negotiation.
The middle-aged man couldn’t help but frown—though not at Lin Mo, but at his subordinate.
Still, he nodded. "Fair enough. My man did speak out of turn. Thirteen thousand is reasonable."
He opened the leather bag tucked under his arm, pulled out a thick stack of cash, counted it, and handed it to Lin Mo.
Lin Mo set down the bucket and scanned the money with his spiritual sense—one hundred and thirty hundred-yuan bills.
"Alright, I’ll leave the fish in the tank. You can settle the processing fee with the owner."
With the money in hand, Lin Mo left without another word, as if he hadn’t been there at all.
He Guoan knew this was Lin Mo’s way of sending business his way.
A fish this size would fetch a hefty processing fee.
Lin Mo returned to the inner room and took a quick shower.
After carrying the fish back twice, he reeked of fish—especially since he’d gone into the water himself.
Of course, he could’ve used his spiritual energy to clean himself instantly, even drying his clothes in a blink. But that wouldn’t be normal behavior.
So he opted for a proper wash.
Freshly showered, Lin Mo sought out Fang Jun.
Fang Jun was perfectly fine—young and full of vitality, a quick dip in the water hadn’t fazed him.
Pushing the door open, Lin Mo walked in with a stack of cash.
"Whoa! Where’d you get all that?"
Everyone from the fishing trip was gathered in Fang Jun’s room.
Lin Mo recounted what had just happened and casually handed the money to Fang Jun.
"Give this to your uncle later. Two hundred per person was way too cheap."
Fang Jun immediately stiffened.
"You don’t trust my connections or my uncle’s generosity?"
Lin Mo counted out thirty bills and handed the remaining hundred to Fang Jun.
"Consider this a friendly sponsorship from me. How’s that?"
But Fang Jun pushed it back.
"Nah, if others found out, they’d look down on me."
The others stayed silent—it wasn’t their place to intervene.
Lin Jiajun thought for a moment before speaking up.
"Just take it for now. Give it to your uncle—maybe he’ll wave it off and return it."
That made sense.
Fang Jun reluctantly accepted.
"Alright, I’ll go find my uncle."
He headed straight for He Guoan, only to see a group of guests leaving the farmhouse—probably here to place an order.
"Uncle!"
He Guoan spotted Fang Jun and waved him over.
"Jun, come here a sec."
Without preamble, Fang Jun pulled out ten thousand yuan.
"Uncle, Lin Mo wanted me to make up the difference. He gave me thirteen thousand, but I already returned three."
He Guoan took one look and pushed the money back.
"Keep it. They’re your classmates—I wouldn’t take their money."
Just then, Lin Jiajun appeared out of nowhere, hands behind his back, shaking his head slightly.
"Uncle, you should at least take five thousand. Back-and-forth like this will strain Lin Mo and Fang Jun’s friendship. Being too polite isn’t good either. To Lin Mo, this money was practically free."
He Guoan sighed.
"You kids don’t understand how hard it is to earn money, just throwing five thousand around like it’s nothing."
But Fang Jun waved it off.
"Uncle, don’t say that. Lin Mo’s the top student in our school—destined for Tsinghua or Peking University. His future’s set."
"Pfft, what’s so great about Tsinghua or Peking? Sun Yat-sen University’s the real deal."
Classic uncle talk.
To older folks in Guangdong, no university topped Sun Yat-sen.
Lin Jiajun chuckled, plucking fifty bills from Fang Jun’s stack and handing them to He Guoan.
"Fang Jun, just tell Lin Mo five thousand’s enough. Any more, and people might think Uncle’s overcharging."
He Guoan nodded vigorously.
"Exactly, ten thousand’s too much. My place isn’t that expensive."
With that settled, the two "Juns" headed back.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the rest of the group trickled back from their outings.
Xie Yuling spotted Fang Jun playing cards and walked over.
"Where’s Lin Mo?"
"Oh, Old Mo? He’s in the kitchen."
Someone nearby chimed in, "You didn’t hear? Lin Mo caught two huge fish today. Big enough that all twenty of us might not finish them."
"Too bad I don’t like fish, but Uncle said we can order other stuff if we want."
By now, everyone was calling He Guoan "Uncle"—and he didn’t mind one bit.
Just a cheerful guy.
Hearing Lin Mo was in the kitchen, Xie Yuling hesitated but didn’t go over.
Chu Miaomiao and Jiang Yunlu, trailing behind, overheard.
After a moment’s thought, Chu Miaomiao headed straight for the kitchen.
The open layout meant Jiang Yunlu could see Lin Mo wielding a knife, expertly slicing fish.
With each swift motion, a translucent sliver of fish fell away.
"Lin Mo!" Jiang Yunlu called softly.
Without looking up, Lin Mo replied, "What brings you here?"
His hands moved like lightning—first cut not quite through, the second completing the slice.
This technique was called "double flight," the resulting slices paper-thin.
"I heard you were in the kitchen, so I came to see what you were up to."
The girl clasped her hands behind her back, watching Lin Mo’s knife work with admiration.
Nearby, a bald cook—Uncle Xia—laughed.
"Kid, this your girlfriend? Little miss, you’re in luck. This one’s got skills. See how he’s deboning that fish? Six rows of tiny bones, and he’s handling them like nothing. Marry him, and you’ll never go hungry."
Jiang Yunlu flushed crimson, too flustered to respond.
"Uncle Xia, don’t talk nonsense. We’re just classmates."
"Sure, sure, just classmates. If you say so."
] [Lone Wolf, No Male Gaze] [Protagonist is pursued early on; extreme protagonist-stans, stay away!] The "Carnival Paradise" descends and slowly devours the real world in the form of a game. By chance, Zhu Yan awakens the talent [Roleplay], becoming one of the first beta players. He thought he could develop safely, but after clearing the first instance, he is branded by humanity as the chief culprit behind the game's spread—a traitorous villain. A villain? Who would ever... become one! He'll be the villain! From then on, Zhu Yan is not only a player but also a lackey for the Carnival Paradise. Between the straight path and the crooked path, he chooses the con. With his left hand, he dons the villain's mantle, staging scenes within instances, infuriating players who decry him as a despicable traitor, all while the game happily promotes him. With his right hand, he joins the non-human organization "Fangcun Mountain," which opposes the Carnival Paradise, transforming into a mysterious player who slaughters game bosses, earning cheers of "Long live the expert!" from fellow players. Gradually, Zhu Yan rises to become an S-rank human player in Fangcun Mountain's archives, while also being the Carnival Paradise's certified top game Boss. But when the final war erupts and both major factions place their hopes in him— Players tag his various aliases: "Experts, this offensive depends on you." The Carnival Paradise's supreme Boss throws an arm around his neck: "Bro, you're the iron, I'm the steel; you can't let me down again!"
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
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
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?!
