After a full day and night, the unusually heavy winter snow finally came to an end.
The world sprang back into action once more.
Snowplows and snow-clearing crews worked in unison to keep the city running smoothly. Even staff from neighborhood offices had no choice but to don little red vests, hoisting plastic snow shovels as they half-playfully, half-diligently cleared the streets.
Tang Manman, who had just finished delivering clothes to her mother, stepped onto the thinly cleared snow. She walked absentmindedly, not even sparing a glance at the exquisitely crafted snowmen lining the sidewalks.
As she walked, she suddenly paused, sensing something. Her gaze landed on a small tattoo parlor by the street. Pressing her soft pink lips together, a flicker of hesitation flashed in her eyes...
...
On the couch inside, a white-haired boy studied the colorful tattoo designs covering the walls, stroking his chin as he struggled to make a decision.
Should he get a dragon?
Or maybe a tiger?
Hell, why not go for a full sleeve? Come summer, flexing that would be downright badass.
He turned to ask the tattoo artist for a quote, but when the answer came close to four digits, White Hair quickly reconsidered.
Swiveling back to the wall, his budget now painfully clear, he redirected his attention to the smaller, more affordable designs.
Just as he agonized over what to ink onto his skin, a cold draft swept into the cozy shop—someone else had walked in.
Too absorbed in his selection, White Hair ignored the newcomer, still fixated on the wall, determined not to rush his choice.
That is, until a soft, timid voice broke the silence.
"How much does a tattoo cost here?"
At the sound of that sweet, delicate voice, White Hair’s eyes instantly lit up, his focus abruptly shifting.
It was like spotting a stunning girl in a gaming café mid-rank-up match. Even if it’s the most crucial promotion game of your life, the second your peripheral vision catches a glimpse of a long, pale, perfectly sculpted leg—you know you’re going to look.
You have to see who that leg belongs to.
That’s worth risking the entire match for.
You can always climb ranks again, but that girl? Once she’s gone, she’s gone.
That was White Hair’s mindset right now. Hearing that soft, sugary voice—one no unattractive girl could possibly produce—he abandoned the tattoo designs entirely, whipping his head toward the source.
Wow.
A total babe—
For a split second, White Hair was stunned by the girl’s ethereal beauty. But in the next moment, his expression froze, then collapsed into sheer, jaw-dropping shock.
He looked like a college kid on his first trip to a massage parlor, only to find his lifelong, salt-of-the-earth father lounging in the VIP room.
How is it HER?
Meanwhile, the tattoo artist, lazily scrolling through his phone on his chair, snapped to attention the second Tang Manman walked in. His eyes gleamed brighter than White Hair’s had at the sight of those full-sleeve designs.
As a tattoo artist, he’d seen his fair share of rebellious girls and delinquent types—some he’d even gotten very familiar with. But this? A pure, angelic beauty like her wanting ink? That was a first.
He eagerly rushed forward to greet her.
Looking at the fragile young girl, his eyes were brimming with excitement.
When it came to things like tattoos, a bit of physical contact was completely normal.
And if the tattoo was in a more private area—well, that would be an endless feast for the eyes, with plenty of opportunities for "accidental" touches!
"Hey beautiful, tattoos come at all kinds of prices. What are you looking to get?"
"Where do you want it?"
The man rubbed his hands together, unable to suppress the grin on his face.
"I... I want it on my arm..."
Tang Manman spoke timidly, yet she didn’t back away. Instead, she mustered her courage and answered.
"Ah, the arm."
"Sure, that works."
"What design are you thinking?"
A flicker of disappointment crossed the man’s face, but he quickly adjusted—after all, money was money.
"I want..."
Before Tang Manman could finish, White Hair, who had been silently watching from the couch, suddenly shouted and stood up.
"Hold on!"
Both the tattoo artist and Tang Manman were startled by the outburst, their faces flashing with confusion as they turned to look at him.
Ignoring the tattoo artist’s annoyed glare, White Hair stared at Tang Manman in disbelief.
"Long—er, Tang... Tang Manman."
"You’re getting a tattoo?!"
Tang Manman’s expression shifted between unease at being recognized and a hint of fear, but surprisingly, she didn’t retreat. Instead, she pressed her lips together and gave a small, firm nod.
"What? No, how can you get a tattoo?"
White Hair couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why would the school’s model student do something like this?
"I..."
Tang Manman stammered, unable to explain.
Meanwhile, the tattoo artist grew impatient. Seeing his business about to slip away, he put on a fierce expression and snapped,
"What’s it to you whether she gets a tattoo or not?"
"None of my business? Maybe, but it’s my boss’s business!"
White Hair shot back without backing down.
"You know who my boss is?"
"Say his name and I swear it’ll scare the hell out of you!"
With that, he pulled out his phone with one hand and pointed at the tattoo artist with the other, full of bravado.
"Listen up—you’re not tattooing her today. If you do, my boss will come down here and smash this dump of yours to pieces!"
He dialed a number and held the phone to his ear.
As the dial tone droned on, White Hair’s confidence wavered slightly.
After all, Brother Long had made it clear before—he had nothing to do with Tang Manman, and he didn’t want people spreading rumors at school.
If he reported this and Brother Long just said, "Whatever," wouldn’t he look like an idiot for meddling?
After what felt like an eternity, the call finally connected. A groggy "Yeah?" came through the speaker.
White Hair lowered his voice.
"Brother Long, I’m at a tattoo parlor... and I just saw Tang Manman. She says she’s getting a tattoo..."
"Tang Manman?"
"A tattoo?"
"You kidding me?"
The lazy scoff from the other end made White Hair grimace.
"It’s true," he insisted carefully.
A long silence followed. Then, after what seemed like forever, a deep, serious voice finally responded:
"You’re absolutely sure this isn’t a joke, right?"
"Positive," White Hair confirmed.
"Address!"
The voice on the phone suddenly shifted tone, like a volcano on the verge of eruption, carrying an overwhelming pressure that brooked no defiance.
White Hair promptly rattled off the location.
"Don’t let anyone give Tang Manman a tattoo!"
"And don’t let her leave!"
"Wait for me to get there!"
The voice was urgent yet slightly strained, accompanied by background noise—as if the person on the other end was hurriedly pulling on clothes.
"Got it!"
"Don’t worry, Brother Long!"
"I’ll make sure Tang Manman stays put till you arrive!"
With his orders clear, White Hair shed his earlier unease and answered loudly.
lities. One day, Qi Yuan was buying groceries when he unfortunately came face-to-face with a monster. Just when he thought he was going to die on the spot, he suddenly heard the monster's thoughts... "This aura, he's definitely not an ordinary master!" "So terrifying, so terrifying." "A fight with my back against the wall, I can't take it anymore." Qi Yuan: Ah, no one told me that my awakened ability isn't telepathy, but rather the stronger my enemies imagine me to be, the stronger I truly become. PS: Zhou Hai in the first chapter is not the protagonist.
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!
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.
