At 9:15 PM, Su Yang drove to the Houyuan Private Club.
Though called a private club, the place more closely resembled a luxurious five-star resort hotel. From the outside, the compound appeared vast, with the building's exterior exuding opulence, its golden glow under the night lights making it look resplendent.
The entrance opened to a wide stretch of lawn, dotted with elegant little fountains at its center. After parking his car, Su Yang strode toward the main door.
As soon as he reached the entrance, a waiter standing nearby approached and asked, "Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?"
"No, but my friend is inside."
"Understood. May I ask your friend's surname?"
"Meng—Meng Wenzhou."
"Very well, sir. Please come in." The waiter pulled open the heavy glass door and escorted Su Yang into the lobby.
The interior of the lobby was just as extravagant, with ceilings soaring nearly ten meters high. A massive crystal chandelier hung overhead, while the floor was laid with intricately carved beige marble. Artful sculptures adorned every corner, making it feel like stepping into a palace.
Su Yang glanced up and thought to himself, This place is impressive.
"Sir, please follow me." The waiter led Su Yang from the lobby’s right side into a long corridor.
The walls on either side were lined with expensive oil paintings. After traversing the hallway, the waiter pushed open a glass door, revealing a spacious and beautifully landscaped garden.
A flagstone path wound through the grassy lawn, flanked by clusters of blooming flowers. Following the waiter along the path, they entered another building, this one far livelier than the last.
Men in suits strolled about, each accompanied by one or two glamorous women in revealing outfits, chatting and laughing.
Su Yang observed the scene and mused, So this is what a private club is—a playground for the wealthy.
"Sir, this way."
"Alright."
Su Yang followed the waiter into a dimly lit corridor. At the very end stood the entrance to a private room labeled "Shuixi Yue."
The waiter paused at the door and nodded. "Sir, your friend is inside. Please wait a moment."
He knocked, and only after hearing a response from within did he open the door and usher Su Yang in.
The private room was unlike those in typical KTVs or bars—for one, it was far more spacious, easily covering 140 to 150 square meters.
Moreover, the furnishings were nothing short of lavish: high-end art pieces, a massive screen, plush leather sofas, premium sound systems, and a private bar. The room even included a dedicated mahjong lounge and a massage parlor.
Upon entering, Su Yang immediately spotted Meng Wenzhou and Liu Bo seated on the sofa, each flanked by a seductive woman in a black bodycon dress and stockings.
Noticing Su Yang, Liu Bo stood up and waved with a grin. "Yang! You’re here. Come, take a seat."
"Sure." Su Yang walked over.
Meng Wenzhou chuckled as he approached. "So, what’ve you been up to these days, old Su?"
"Not much. Just killing time."
"How’s the renovation on your courtyard coming along?"
"Haven’t checked in the last couple of days, but the work should be progressing. You’ll have to come over when it’s done."
Su Yang sat down beside Meng Wenzhou.
At that, Liu Bo tilted his head toward the two women and said, "Ladies, you can leave for now."
"Of course, President Liu."
The two women stood and followed the waiting waiter out of the room.
After scanning the private room, Su Yang speared a piece of fruit from the table and popped it into his mouth with a smile. "Alright, let’s hear it. What’s the situation?"
Meng Wenzhou sighed. "You explain, Fatty. I’ll fill in the gaps."
"Got it." Liu Bo first handed out cigarettes to the two before lighting one for himself. Then, he turned to Su Yang.
"Honestly, it’s not a big deal. Let me give you the rundown first."
"That guy from Shanghai I mentioned on the phone is named Deng Hao. His old man used to have some business dealings with Brother Meng’s dad—Uncle Meng."
"But things went south over a deal. They parted on bad terms, and since Deng Hao was involved back then, he’s held a grudge against Uncle Meng ever since, blaming him for the fallout."
At this point, Meng Wenzhou interjected, "Let me clarify. Both my dad and Deng Hao’s father lost a fair bit on that deal—my dad about one or two hundred million, Deng’s dad maybe four or five hundred."
"I only know it was some big entertainment complex investment, but the specifics are hazy since, as you know, I’ve never been involved in my dad’s business."
"Later, I asked him about it. The reason was simple—their visions clashed. They just weren’t compatible as business partners, and the project itself was a dud, so they took a hit."
"But in business, who can guarantee profits every time, right?"
"Problem is, Deng Hao’s dad dragged him into the whole thing to groom him. So when it blew up, he convinced himself it was my dad’s fault they lost those hundreds of millions. That’s why he’s had it out for me ever since."
Su Yang nodded, now grasping the backstory.
"What happened next?" he asked Meng Wenzhou.
"Nothing much, really. That was two or three years ago. A couple hundred million is nothing to my dad—he doesn’t dwell on losses. After that, our families just stopped interacting."
"Until two nights ago."
"What happened two nights ago?" Su Yang took a drag from his cigarette.
Meng Wenzhou sipped his whiskey and replied coolly, "Fatty and I were drinking at DE Bar when we ran into Deng Hao."
"Truth is, I barely know the guy—we’ve only met a handful of times. But he acted all chummy, insisting on joining us for drinks."
"I figured, fine, we’re all young. Even if our families had issues, that’s between the older generation, not us."
"So I let him join. But the guy was still bitter. The whole time, he kept making snide remarks and sarcastic jabs. You know me—I usually let stuff slide unless it’s way out of line."
"But he wouldn’t let up. Kept implying my family’s fallen behind his, that I’m just some washed-up loser with no real clout. He didn’t say it outright, but anyone could read between the lines."
"Then he said something—I don’t remember exactly what—but it was along the lines of calling me a pretentious poser. I was about to tell him to piss off, but Fatty beat me to it—dumped a near-full beer right in his face."
Meng Wenzhou turned to Liu Bo and continued, "Then, some guy who was with him got into a fight with Fatty. We thought Fatty would wipe the floor with him, but turns out that dude looked slow but packed a mean punch—took Fatty down in a few hits."
"Of course, he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me. But after that, Deng Hao dropped the act and started openly calling me out."
"Even I’ve got my limits, you know? So yeah, things escalated to this mess. Looking back, it feels almost childish. But that guy didn’t stop there—he’s been spreading rumors about me lately, even calling Fatty an idiot."
Meng Wenzhou shrugged with a wry smile. "So, naturally, Fatty gave you a call."

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.”

pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"

nto another world, I bought a slave for the first time, never expecting the silver wolf girl to be so cute... Lin Feng: I know it's cold, but you don't have to sneak into my bed! Yuna: Just sharing body warmth, if you dare do anything naughty, I'll definitely...