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.
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?!
close your eyes and open them again, only to find yourself transmigrated into the role of a villainous male supporting character. Readers familiar with urban wish-fulfillment novels know that it is only through the relentless antics of the villainous male supporting character that the plot between the male and female leads can progress. As the villainous male supporting character, Long Aotian not only has to bully the female lead, harass the second female lead, and flirt with the third female lead, but he also has to go all out to antagonize the male lead. In the end, when his body is discovered, he is still clutching half a moldy fried dough stick in his hand. Fully aware of the plot, Long Aotian is determined to change his fate, starting with the female lead! In the beginning, the female lead lacks confidence: "Big brother, I hope I didn't scare you?" In the middle, the female lead treads carefully: "Brother Long, please don't hit me, okay?" Later on, the female lead becomes coquettishly clingy: "Aotian, it's time to pay the 'public grain' tonight." Long Aotian's legs go weak, and he feels like crying: "I taught you to be thick-skinned, not shameless!"
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.”
