At this moment, Lin Mo suddenly turned his gaze toward the classroom door.
Zhang Yuzhong walked in, his face bruised and swollen. His lip was split and scabbed over, his right cheek puffed up high, with dark purple marks stretching all the way to the corner of his eye.
Dozens of eyes in the class immediately locked onto him like spotlights.
Head lowered, he seemed desperate to slip back to his seat and escape the stares.
Not just Lin Mo noticed—Fang Jun, An Yuexin, and others saw it all too clearly.
Everyone knew Zhang Yuzhong’s struggles, and in class, he was the kind of person who’d help anyone with anything. So, naturally, he was well-liked.
Before he could even sit down, a few guys from the back row had already marched up to him.
“Holy shit! Lao Zhang, what the hell happened to your face?”
“Who did this? Was it Su Jiazhen from Class 13? Let’s go find that bastard right now and beat the crap out of him!”
An Yuexin had a fiery temper. Whenever he was too busy to clean up, Zhang Yuzhong never hesitated to cover for him.
So, of course, An Yuexin was ready to settle the score for him.
Without another word, he spun around and headed for the back of the classroom, snatching up the broom leaning against the door. His stance wasn’t just about fighting—it looked like he was ready to go to war.
Just as he reached the back, Su Jiazhen appeared at the front door of Class 8.
He peeked inside, his injuries even worse than Zhang Yuzhong’s—his left eye socket blackened like a panda’s, his arm wrapped in bandages.
Instantly, the entire class imagined a brutal fight where both sides had taken heavy losses.
Su Jiazhen scanned the room, quickly spotting Zhang Yuzhong, and strode straight toward him.
Fang Jun sidestepped, blocking his path with outstretched arms, his expression clear: You’re not getting past me.
“What are you doing here? Looking for another fight? Class 8 isn’t welcoming you. If you don’t leave now, I’ll shut the door and unleash Lao Mo on you.”
Lin Mo, who had been minding his own business, nearly punched Fang Jun for dragging him into this.
With An Yuexin closing in from the back, broom in hand, and Fang Jun blocking the front, it seemed like Su Jiazhen had seconds to leave before fists started flying.
At this tense moment, Zhang Yuzhong, the one caught in the middle, panicked. He rushed forward, grabbing An Yuexin’s arm and shouting with all his might.
“Stop! Don’t fight!”
An Yuexin and Fang Jun exchanged a glance, convinced Zhang Yuzhong was being threatened.
Fang Jun stepped in front of Zhang Yuzhong, his gaze dark as he stared at Su Jiazhen.
Turning to Zhang Yuzhong, he softened his voice. “Yuzhong, don’t be scared. Whatever’s going on, just say it. Class 8 has your back—even Lao Mo won’t just sit by.”
Whether it was true or not, Fang Jun wasn’t above using Lin Mo’s name to intimidate.
Zhang Yuzhong, never one for smooth words, pushed past Fang Jun and hurried to Su Jiazhen, waving his hands frantically.
“You’ve got it all wrong! I wasn’t fighting Su Jiazhen—he actually helped me when I was getting beaten up!”
Su Jiazhen ignored the murmurs around him until now, finally raising his hand to shove a crumpled plastic bag toward Zhang Yuzhong.
“This is imported medicine. Works well. Take it.”
His tone was flat, like he was mentioning the weather.
Zhang Yuzhong shook his head hard, tucking his hands behind his back. “No, no! You’re hurt worse than me—you should use it!”
“I’ve got more at home. Besides, you’re the one who’s worse off.”
Ah, the inexplicable competitiveness of boys.
With that, Su Jiazhen tossed the bag onto the teacher’s desk, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked straight out of Class 8.
His retreating figure carried an air of effortless cool—like a man brushing off dust without a care.
But no one saw the quiet sigh of relief he let out the moment he turned away.
Good. I made it in time.
If he hadn’t, with Zhang Yuzhong’s clumsy way with words, he might’ve ended up targeted again in Class 13.
As for the medicine? He’d dug it out the second he got home last night.
To him, friendship between guys was just that simple.
After all, they’d fought side by side.
Zhang Yuzhong quickly explained how he’d been jumped by his coworkers the night before—until Su Jiazhen showed up to bail him out.
When he got to the part where “Su Jiazhen grabbed two bricks, one in each hand, and knocked two guys flat on the spot,” the entire class erupted.
“No way! For real? Two bricks at once?!”
“Damn, that’s hardcore! Wasn’t he afraid of killing someone?!”
“Then what? What happened next?!” Fang Jun pressed, like he was binge-watching a drama.
“Then, halfway through, Su Jiazhen lied and said he’d already called the cops. My coworkers freaked and ran. After that, we called the police.”
Students had a way of getting quick results when reporting things.
After all, they were still under the label of “flowers of the nation.”
Not like later, when they’d just be “beasts of burden.”
The three guys who’d cornered Zhang Yuzhong were arrested right at their workplace. They’d shown up for their shift like nothing happened, never expecting Su Jiazhen to actually involve the cops.
With exactly three attackers, the incident was upgraded to gang assault—an aggravated offense.
The officers made it clear: without a settlement agreement, those three were looking at at least three years inside.
Su Jiazhen’s side was even simpler. One call home, and a sharply dressed lawyer showed up at the station, slapping a compensation agreement in front of the trio.
Tens of thousands in damages—not a cent less.
Knowing Zhang Yuzhong’s family was struggling, Su Jiazhen handed him the entire stack of cash without a second glance.
Zhang Yuzhong’s hands trembled as he held the thick wad of bills, insisting he’d only take half.
But Su Jiazhen ignored his protests, locking eyes with him before making one serious demand.
“Keep the money.”
“But if Lin Mo ever comes after me, you’ve got to step in and protect me.”
Lin Mo, who’d been listening with great interest, dropped his pen with a clatter.
“Hold on! I object!” He pointed at himself.
“Why do I sound like the final boss waiting to make my entrance?!”
Fang Jun walked over and patted his shoulder. “Sorry, buddy. This round, you’re stuck playing the villain. The spotlight’s on the passionate friendship between the main characters now.”
Just then, Lin Jiajun frowned and handed his phone to Lin Mo.
“Lin Mo, check this out. It’s happening again.”
After just a few days away from the school forum, the post questioning the charity donations had blown up again.
The original poster was still updating, and the accusations against Lin Mo were growing louder.
After all, no one had actually seen his name on the donor list.
People love jumping on bandwagons. As the saying goes, repeat a lie enough, and it becomes truth. Even those who didn’t know the full story were happy to take a swing.
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.”
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."
ions, keeping it grounded and realistic】 After quitting his job, office worker Su Yang accidentally binds with the "Enjoy Life System." As the name suggests, simply by indulging in life's pleasures, he can earn random rewards from the system—no need to spend money on beautiful women or grovel before anyone. Just enjoy, and the money follows, making it all about effortless fun. The system comes with a scanning feature, allowing him to establish a favorability bond with women rated 85 points or above. Every 20-point increase in favorability unlocks additional rewards. After suffering through over twenty years of hardship, Su Yang trembles with excitement, his dull eyes suddenly gleaming with newfound hope. "Enjoy life? How hard could that be?"
uld barely embark on the path to immortality. Just as he was on the verge of death, his golden finger awakened. No matter whether it was poison, drained blood and vital energy, diminished lifespan, or any other physical debuff caused by paying a price—once midnight passed, everything would be refreshed. From then on, whenever someone asked what kind of person Chu Ran was, the answer was simple: Forbidden arts that other cultivators dared not learn? Chu Ran would learn them. Prices that even demonic cultivators dared not pay? Chu Ran would pay them. Lifespan that even righteous cultivators dared not burn? Chu Ran would burn it. All the blood essence in his body? Take it. Want both his hands and feet? He would cut them off and send them to you. You say he’s finished? He wasn’t built to sit idle. You think he’s gone mad? No—he was simply waiting for midnight. From that day onward, Chu Ran would respect neither Heaven nor Earth, bow to neither gods nor ghosts. He had only one wish: For midnight to arrive a little sooner.
