March 31, 2013.
Ever since seeing the sound system at Chu Ling's place, Lin Mo couldn't resist the urge to buy one for himself.
So he headed to Tao Street on Zhongshan Sixth Road.
In the 1990s, Tao Street was a paradise for men—not because of salons or massage parlors, but because it was home to several electronics markets.
Back in the 1980s, it was the largest vinyl record market. At that time, only the wealthy could afford to dabble in vinyl.
By the 1990s, CD players, pagers, and brick-sized mobile phones began appearing in Tao Street.
Later, it became a hub for all kinds of secondhand electronics—phones, lamps, gaming consoles, you name it.
By 2013, however, the street had entered a decline, especially with the rise of e-commerce. The only shops left were those run by owners who no longer paid rent.
They’d lounge in recliners, listening to tunes on their finely tuned sound systems, tapping along to the beat.
These days, the street was mostly frequented by local uncles. A young face like Lin Mo’s was a rare sight.
He stopped at an audio equipment shop.
Music drifted out from inside.
"Who is it, knocking at my window? Who is it, strumming the strings..."
Lin Mo knocked on the door, but the shop was empty.
An elderly man in his late sixties, lounging on a recliner under a tree across the street, suddenly spoke up.
"Hey, young man, who’re you looking for?"
Lin Mo hadn’t expected the old man to be the owner. He’d assumed he was just a neighbor killing time.
He turned to the man.
"Are you the owner?"
The old man nodded. "I’ve got records, vinyl, films—but not the kind you youngsters watch."
Lin Mo quickly shook his head, then glanced at the tube amplifier on the shop floor.
"Actually, I’m here to buy your sound system."
The old man frowned.
"Young man, do you even know what a sound system is?"
Lin Mo didn’t answer immediately.
His eyes swept over the shop before settling on the tube amp.
The copper terminals gleamed with age, and the screw holes on the chassis showed signs of frequent disassembly—clearly, it had been tweaked often.
Lin Mo pointed at it. "That’s a KT88 push-pull amp, right? Hand-wired, judging by the layout. Must have a rich, natural sound."
The old man’s eyes narrowed as he gave Lin Mo a once-over, surprise flickering in his gaze.
He got up from the recliner, walked into the shop, and placed a CD into the player.
Music filled the air again—this time, pure instrumental, the low hum of a saxophone accompanied by soft piano chords.
The old man said nothing, just watched Lin Mo’s expression.
Lin Mo closed his eyes, listening intently.
He didn’t critique the music itself but focused on the nuances of the sound.
After a moment, he spoke.
"The system handles the saxophone’s harmonics well, but the highs are a bit harsh. Maybe the capacitors aren’t broken in yet, or the cables could use better pairing."
The old man was stunned. Then he chuckled. "You sure some old-timer didn’t send you here to recite a script?"
He’d assumed Lin Mo was just a beginner who’d recognized the amp—but hearing the unbroken-in capacitors? That was something else.
With an approving grin, the old man clapped Lin Mo’s shoulder.
"Kid, your ears are sharper than mine. You’re the real deal. If you’re an expert, go ahead and browse." His tone turned sly.
Lin Mo smiled. "I’m not just window-shopping. I want a proper setup. Got any recommendations?"
The old man’s demeanor shifted, his gaze turning serious.
"What’re you looking for? What kind of music? I’ve got everything from cheap secondhand speakers to high-end gear worth tens of thousands. But you know—value’s one thing; skill’s another."
Lin Mo already had a decent sound system at home, tuned by his father.
But he wanted one for his rented place too—after all, he was staying there long-term.
After a pause, he laid out his requirements.
Volume wasn’t the priority; purity of sound was.
The old man knew right away—this kid wouldn’t be fooled.
After decades in the business, he’d seen all kinds of customers.
Some would point at the biggest speaker and ask, "Does this get loud?"
Others would spout specs like they knew it all, when they barely understood half of it.
But Lin Mo’s request stood out.
It wasn’t about raw power—it was about the essence of sound.
Loudness was easy—just get a big speaker. But clarity at low volumes? That demanded precision in equalizers, compressors, tube amps, and cables.
Definitely a high-end customer.
And, more importantly, someone he could actually talk to.
At his age, money wasn’t the main concern.
He could drop dead any day—what he really wanted was someone to share his passion with.
"Purity, huh? That’s tricky. What genre? Classical, jazz, or pop? Most youngsters go for pop."
Lin Mo thought for a moment. "A bit of everything, but if I had to pick—instrumentals and vocals. So layering and detail matter."
The old man nodded slowly.
"Instrumentals and vocals? That means higher demands on mid-to-high frequencies. Equalizers, compressors, tube amps, cables—it all adds up. And it’s expensive."
Lin Mo gave a faint smile. "Budget isn’t an issue. As long as it’s worth it. Besides, this is the only place to find the good stuff."
The old man’s expression softened.
A customer who truly appreciated sound was rare.
"Wait here. I’ve got a few setups in mind, but I’ll need to get them from some old buddies. Guaranteed to satisfy."
Business in audio shops like his was dwindling.
Customers were either clueless or experts.
The worst? The know-it-alls who actually knew nothing.
But this kid? Definitely not one of them.
With that, the old man walked out.
That was Tao Street’s charm—if he didn’t have what you wanted, he’d get it from someone who did.
Of course, the price wouldn’t be cheap—middlemen took their cut.
But it saved the hassle of hunting everything down yourself.
And Lin Mo wasn’t strapped for cash these days.
Before long, the old man returned—with another old man in tow.
No middleman after all. The owner was honest.
Maybe because the industry was fading, these audio enthusiasts just wanted someone to talk shop with.
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!
lan, the Luo family, tracked him down - along with the babies in their arms. Mo Xuan stared pensively at the paternity test results from over a dozen top institutions, both domestic and international, showing a 99.99% match between himself and the two baby girls. At 23, Mo Xuan, a doctoral student, had become the father of two three-year-old children. The kicker? The mothers weren't even the same person! He gradually realized he was being lured step by step into an elaborate trap designed by these two yandere sisters. "Be good, little Xuan. Sister's life belongs to you entirely." "Brother, if you try to run away, I'll have no choice but to tie you up." Mo Xuan: "Do whatever you want, ladies. I give up."
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.”
