This chapter is dedicated to reader [Sugarcane Residue].
Night swallowed the clamor of the day.
In the back alleys, neon signs of various eateries flickered to life, their glow mingling with the aroma of food, saturating the humid air of eastern Guangdong.
Lin Mo strolled leisurely, hands tucked in his pockets.
Tall and lean, his shadow stretched long under the streetlights. Alone, he seemed utterly at ease.
His aimless walk led him to the Spicy Chicken restaurant.
Through the glass, he spotted a familiar figure swiftly clearing leftovers from a table.
The corner of Lin Mo’s mouth twitched imperceptibly.
Alright, this is the place.
As Lin Mo stood at the counter to order, a voice sounded behind him.
"Yuzhong, everything alright?"
Zhang Yuzhong looked up and shook his head with a smile, too busy to chat.
Su Jiazhen had brought his crew out for dinner.
Truthfully, he had little interest in spicy chicken—he was only here to support Zhang Yuzhong, who worked here.
But the moment he finished speaking, his gaze locked onto the tall, slender figure at the counter.
Lin Mo?
The enthusiasm on Su Jiazhen’s face froze, as if someone had hit pause.
His crew behind him stiffened, their laughter dying instantly. Their expressions turned to stone, breaths held, feet rooted to the spot.
The atmosphere at the entrance plummeted to freezing point—all because of one person’s presence.
Lin Mo was well aware of Su Jiazhen’s group behind him, but he couldn’t care less. Taking his order number, he headed upstairs.
Only after Lin Mo disappeared around the stairwell did one of the lackeys dare whisper, voice barely audible,
"Boss, maybe we should go somewhere else. Lin Mo’s here."
Su Jiazhen took a deep breath. "What’s there to fear? We’re here to eat, not fight. Why should I be scared of him?"
With that, he strode to the counter, placed his order, and marched upstairs without hesitation.
The second floor was sparsely populated—just Lin Mo and a middle-aged man waiting for his food.
Lin Mo scrolled through his phone. Recently, Liu Zheng had mentioned being ignored—no contact from the "Oriental Leaves" group, not even an interrogation of Chen Lai.
Lin Mo’s stance remained unchanged: "Let the bullets fly."
Speaking of which, why hasn’t this movie been nominated for heritage yet?
When Su Jiazhen’s group arrived upstairs, they grew conspicuously quiet.
As if rehearsed, they claimed the farthest corner from Lin Mo, pulled out their phones in unison, and buried their faces in the screens, fingers swiping frantically—who knew what they were looking at.
Conversation? Nonexistent.
Even their breathing was measured.
Soon, Zhang Yuzhong arrived with their orders.
First serving the middle-aged man, then Lin Mo.
"Lin Mo, your meal."
As the tray landed, Su Jiazhen’s eyes flicked over instinctively.
His eyelid twitched at the sight.
Lin Mo’s rice was piled into a solid mound, towering over a normal portion.
Zhang Yuzhong knew Lin Mo had a big appetite, so he always packed it tight and high.
But rice was free for refills here.
With a smile, Zhang Yuzhong added, "Let me know if you need more," before turning to leave.
Passing Su Jiazhen’s table, he said, "Yours is coming right up," then headed downstairs.
One lackey couldn’t resist muttering, "Damn, that rice pile..."
"Shut up and play with your phone!" Su Jiazhen hissed through gritted teeth.
He pretended to watch a video, but the flashing images registered nothing in his brain.
Then, Lin Mo picked up his tray and sat right beside their table.
"So, why did you step in last night?"
Lin Mo turned to Su Jiazhen.
Su Jiazhen’s heart nearly stopped.
"What kind of person do you take me for?"
Clearing his throat, Su Jiazhen straightened his back, trying to reclaim his boss aura. "If I see someone from our school getting bullied, should I hide like a coward? Of course I’d step in!"
He couldn’t admit he’d been avoiding Zhang Yuzhong, only to overhear those bastards’ vile remarks and lose his temper on the spot.
Lin Mo said nothing, just watched him with faint amusement, sending chills down Su Jiazhen’s spine.
After a few seconds, Lin Mo looked away and resumed eating, as if the question had been casual.
Right then, Zhang Yuzhong returned with a large tray, pausing briefly at the sight of Lin Mo and Su Jiazhen together.
"Here, your pork offal soup rice."
"Thanks," Su Jiazhen mumbled.
Once the food was served, everyone began eating.
Silence engulfed the second floor.
Su Jiazhen’s crew shoveled rice into their mouths, not daring to breathe too loud. The clink of chopsticks against bowls sounded painfully sharp.
The suffocating quiet made Su Jiazhen fidget—like sitting on needles, like...
He stole a glance at Lin Mo, who ate unhurriedly, seemingly oblivious to the tension.
For some reason, Su Jiazhen’s brain short-circuited. He pulled out his phone, swiped randomly, and pointed at the screen.
"That donation mentioned on the forum—did you really give that money?"
The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to slap himself.
Idiot. Now he’s poked the bear. Is he about to get punched?
Lin Mo paused and met his gaze.
"You follow gossip like that?"
The unexpectedly calm tone eased Su Jiazhen’s nerves slightly.
"Eh, boring classes, gotta kill time on the forum," he ventured, leaning in slightly. "But... that three-million ‘maintenance fee’—real or fake?"
Three million! Even with his family’s wealth, his dad would struggle to pull out that much cash, let alone him.
Lin Mo finally showed a reaction—a look of utter disbelief, followed by an eye roll.
"The three million is real, but it wasn’t a maintenance fee."
The crew’s ears perked up.
A blond lackey couldn’t resist cutting in, "What about the donation? Was that real too? Or just boasting?"
This guy had always disliked Lin Mo’s aloof, too-cool attitude.
Su Jiazhen shot him a glare but didn’t dare yell.
Lin Mo didn’t even spare the blond a glance, just stirred his soup lazily.
"The donation was real too."
He paused, letting their curiosity simmer, then finished—
"However, it wasn't donated under my name."
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...
e, Immortal Body, Transmigration, System, Progression Fantasy, Academy Setting, Third-Person Perspective. Alternate Title: Transmigrating into a High Martial World and Reading Live Comments. Bad news: I transmigrated. This is a terrifying high-martial world, and my original, pathetically weak body fell into a coma and never woke up. Good news: I got a Popularity Points system upon arrival. I can see live comments and even create an unkillable alternate identity. Starting out, the alternate identity has all stats at 1. The system tells me that to grow stronger, I must participate in the plot, gain popularity points to allocate stats and grow stronger, and ultimately awaken my original body. And so, carrying my original body on my back, I officially entered Huaqing Academy, where the story's protagonist resides. From that moment on, Chen Guan kicked the original plot to pieces. Live Comments: [Doesn't anyone find this mysterious coffin guy creepy? He can summon indescribable grey misty hands.] [Is this guy a hero or a villain? What kind of onion became a spirit?] [By the way, does anyone know who's in the coffin? Shouldn't the debt for saving his life be repaid by now?] [According to unofficial histories, the person in the coffin was Chen Guan's first love. Their love was once passionate and earth-shattering, but they were separated by life and death due to worldly circumstances. What a star-crossed pair.] ... Years later, the world knew of a demon god born from a coffin, shrouded in grey mist, impossible to gaze upon directly. His foremost divine emissary often wielded a scythe, reaping lives like the god of death. As war approached, facing former friends and a boundless sea of enemies, Chen Guan merely raised his scythe. "Would you like to dance as well?"
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?!
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!
