In the execution ground, two men knelt on the ground with black hoods over their heads.
When the hoods were removed, the blinding light made Zhou Ming's eyes water.
This was just a dream, so why did it feel so real?!
Once his eyes adjusted, Zhou Ming saw Wang Zhenji kneeling beside him.
This was actually the first time he had dreamed of Wang Zhenji.
The thought that his childhood friend was probably sleeping peacefully in reality filled him with irritation.
Just as he was about to stand up and kick Wang Zhenji, two massive hands forcefully pressed him back down.
Meanwhile, Wang Zhenji also opened his eyes, staring at Zhou Ming in shock.
"Zhou Ming! You're here too."
He tried to stand, but Zhou Ming saw two phantom hands appear in the air, pressing down on Wang Zhenji's shoulders and forcing him to kneel.
The two remained on the ground, pain radiating from their knees.
This was why they feared dreaming—the pain was all too real.
At that moment, a figure descended slowly from the sky.
"Criminals Zhou Ming and Wang Zhenji, you attempted to assault the immortal Lin Mo. The punishment is death. Any objections?"
The two looked up at the figure reading their sentence and exclaimed in unison, "Lin Mo?!"
Indeed, it was Lin Mo.
Lin Mo raised his hand and casually flicked his wrist, slapping both of them across the face.
"Here, you will address me as Venerable One."
As he spoke, a woman appeared beside him, strumming a guitar.
The two lowered their heads, not daring to speak.
Another slap struck them.
"Have you gone mute?"
Their faces stinging, they finally muttered, "Yes, Venerable One."
Lin Mo seemed satisfied.
"Since there are no objections, let the execution begin."
Two executioner's blades hovered above their heads.
Though Zhou Ming and Wang Zhenji believed they wouldn’t die, they felt like Louis XVI at that moment.
Warning!
Three meters above—heads will roll.
Soon, things became utterly bewildering.
They were about to become headless men.
"No... don’t do it!" Wang Zhenji let out a blood-curdling scream.
The blade hadn’t even fallen yet, and he was already begging.
"Don’t? Why didn’t you think of that when you gathered people to beat me up? Why didn’t you hesitate when you bullied others?"
Lin Mo sneered.
With a wave of his hand, the blade flashed—and Wang Zhenji’s arm fell to the ground.
There was no blood, but the pain was undeniable.
Wang Zhenji continued to scream.
Lin Mo then turned his gaze to Zhou Ming.
"And you? Any last words?"
Zhou Ming simply bowed his head. "Just do it. I’m sick of this nightmare."
Lin Mo smirked. Was this all it took to break him?
But it was indeed enough.
"From now on, whenever you commit evil, this nightmare will repeat. This isn’t a warning—it’s a punishment, one that will haunt you for the rest of your life."
Lin Mo reached out, piercing Zhou Ming’s chest and pulling out his still-beating heart.
Zhou Ming stared at his own heart, the sensation indescribable.
He knew this was a dream. Once he woke up, everything would return to normal.
But then, Lin Mo’s next words sent a chill down his spine.
"Zhou Ming, remember—these nightmares are just a small taste. If you want peaceful sleep, learn how to be a decent human being first."
With that, Lin Mo crushed Zhou Ming’s heart.
A sharp pain shot through him as endless darkness swallowed his body. The last thing he saw was the executioner’s blade descending upon Wang Zhenji’s neck.
So, only Wang Zhenji got to be Louis XVI.
......
Wang Zhenji’s eyes snapped open.
He was alone in his prison cell.
Gasping for air, he shuddered—the dream had felt too real. He had even seen Zhou Ming, watched as Lin Mo ripped out his heart.
Then came the blade.
Suddenly realizing something, he dropped to his knees on the bed.
"Lin Mo, I was wrong! Forgive me! Please spare me!"
Silence filled the air.
Wang Zhenji looked around, bewildered.
The seed had been planted. From now on, any wicked thought from Zhou Ming or Wang Zhenji would summon this nightmare again.
......
With the monthly exams approaching, most students were buckling down to study.
Except for the athletes, nearly everyone was immersed in their books.
One advantage of a top-tier high school was the strong academic atmosphere.
Of course, breaks were still taken—like during recess, when students huddled together to discuss DNF gold-farming strategies.
"Listen, the Ice Mage is nowhere near as good as the Elemental Bomber. Short range, low damage, only good for burst—utterly useless."
"Exactly. The damage is there, but the attack style and range are all wrong."
Hao Qiang, sitting in the back row, passionately analyzed.
Beside him, Jian Lihao wagged a finger.
"Bro, you don’t get it. Sure, the character’s flawed, but he looks cool while fighting. And coolness lasts a lifetime."
"Coolness is worthless. My Berserker’s way cooler. Just wait—next year, Berserker’s getting his second awakening!"
Prophet? Execute him!
Meanwhile, Gao Yuanqiang’s "Love Guru" class was in session.
"What do you do when your crush keeps saying she’s going to shower?"
"Probably spoiled. You should shower too."
"But then she says she’s going to sleep!"
"Then you should wash up and sleep too."
The girls, on the other hand, were discussing TV dramas—from Empresses in the Palace to Palace Lock.
It was clear that the girls’ early maturity was on full display here.
As for Lin Mo, he was flipping through a magazine called Story Collection.
He wasn’t reading for leisure—he needed to improve his writing skills.
Essays were his weak point; after all, he wasn’t a novelist.
Unlike a certain tea-loving guy who used to score high marks in composition.
Jiang Yunlu, meanwhile, was reviewing chemistry exercises. Since she planned to major in science, she had to shore up her weaknesses.
As for closed-book subjects like politics and history? She’d leave those to fate.
Such was the ordinary life of an ordinary school—mostly peaceful, with only occasional ripples.
Soon, evening self-study ended.
Even Xie Yuling didn’t immediately appear at Class 8’s door after the bell.
By the time Lin Mo packed up and stepped out, he ran into Xie Yuling exiting Class 7’s back door.
Having grown accustomed to walking home together, the three of them now often left as a trio.
The third person, naturally, was Fang Jun.
"Hey, after the exams, wanna go sing karaoke?" Fang Jun asked.
"Sure," Lin Mo replied, then glanced at Xie Yuling. Fang Jun did the same.
"Me... me too?" Xie Yuling blinked in confusion.
Perhaps because the three had been to the police station and eaten McDonald’s together, Xie Yuling didn’t treat Fang Jun with the same silence she reserved for others.
Lin Mo nodded. "Come along. We’re all friends—it’ll probably be the same group as last time."
rowess are unmatched, commanding a million-strong army! Yet, the Emperor wants to depose him for the sake of a false prince? Hold on, are you throwing me into some female-oriented romance plot? How can I tolerate this? With a grand wave of his hand—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! Slander the Emperor? Very well, all of you shall die! ... The False Prince: "Although I am not the biological son, Father and Mother love me more. The throne should be mine!" The Female Lead: "Qin Xiao, you are the Emperor, and I am a commoner. If you wish to marry me, you must abdicate. Otherwise, you will never have me!" The Empress: "After we divorce, you must give me half the empire!" The Transmigrator Consort: "You worthless Emperor, why should I kneel to you? All men are equal—I advise you to be kind!" The Great General: "The enemy general is my childhood sweetheart. For her sake, I willingly abandon the frontier defenses!" The Retired Emperor: "Although Yu'er was adopted, I prefer him. Qin Xiao, you should abdicate and let him become Emperor!" ... Very well! So this is how you want to play? Facing this twisted world of female-oriented tropes, Qin Xiao grins and raises his hand to unleash—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! I am the Emperor. Why would I bother reasoning with you? Seal the gates! Leave none alive!
u Chenyuan transmigrated into a female-oriented novel about a real and fake heiress, becoming the CEO elder brother of both. Unfortunately, the entire Lu family—including himself, the CEO—were mere cannon fodder in the story. Determined to save himself, Lu Chenyuan took action. The spoiled, attention-seeking fake heiress? Thrown into the harsh realities of the working class to learn humility. The love-struck real heiress? Pushed toward academic excellence, so lofty goals would blind her to trivial romances. As for the betrayed, vengeful arranged marriage wife… the plot hadn’t even begun yet. There was still time—if he couldn’t handle her, he could at least avoid her. "CEO Lu, are you avoiding me?" Mo Qingli fixed her gaze on Lu Chenyuan. For the first time, the shrewd and calculating Lu Chenyuan felt a flicker of unease.
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
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.”
