Twisting and turning through the dilapidated hillside neighborhood, Lin Yu finally arrived at the address given by Zhao Dahu’s homeroom teacher.
"Is this the place?"
Staring at the timeworn, peeling walls of the residential building, Lin Yu stepped forward, determined to find Zhao Dahu and figure out why he had suddenly stopped attending school.
But before Lin Yu could enter the building, Zhao Dahu appeared on his own.
He emerged from the shadowy staircase on the first floor, his towering frame making the narrow hallway seem even more cramped.
In just a few strides, he stepped out of the dimly lit building and into the street.
Under the glow of streetlights and moonlight, Lin Yu suddenly realized that the reason the hallway had seemed so blocked wasn’t just Zhao Dahu’s massive build—it was also the long, tightly wrapped bundle of blankets strapped to his back.
At a glance, it vaguely resembled a human shape.
The moment Lin Yu spotted Zhao Dahu, Zhao Dahu noticed him too. He froze briefly, then assumed this was just a chance encounter and tried to slip past with his head down.
"Why aren’t you going to school anymore?"
Lin Yu blocked his path. As he asked the question, his eyes scrutinized the blanket-wrapped bundle. The more he looked, the more certain he became—it was a person. At the very bottom of the bundle, a pair of feet dangled limply, lifeless.
The sight made Lin Yu instinctively wary.
But only slightly.
Just a flicker of caution.
Even though Zhao Dahu was likely carrying a corpse on his back, Lin Yu didn’t feel particularly threatened.
For one, he had absolute confidence in his own combat skills. And secondly, he couldn’t believe that this honest, thick-skulled guy—who got pushed around at school—had the guts to kill anyone.
When Lin Yu posed his question, Zhao Dahu’s eyes darkened. He shifted uncomfortably before answering in a strained voice,
"I don’t have money for school anymore."
"What’s that on your back?"
Lin Yu set aside the school issue for now and focused on the more pressing matter.
The moment the words left Lin Yu’s mouth, Zhao Dahu’s lips trembled uncontrollably. Tears welled up and rolled down his dark, weathered face, as if the question had struck the rawest nerve of his grief. In an instant, the two-meter-tall giant broke down into loud, heaving sobs.
"It’s my grandpa."
"My grandpa’s dead."
Zhao Dahu choked out between sobs.
Of course.
This guy really didn’t seem like the type to kill anyone.
Watching Zhao Dahu weep uncontrollably, Lin Yu sighed inwardly.
"My condolences," he said softly.
"But… what are you doing now?"
Lin Yu hesitated, eyeing Zhao Dahu’s bizarre behavior.
"I… I was going to bury him."
"Bury him?"
Lin Yu repeated in disbelief. He glanced around, confirming there wasn’t a funeral procession or hearse in sight before turning back to Zhao Dahu.
"By yourself?"
Zhao Dahu wiped his face with his sleeve and nodded between sniffles.
"How were you planning to do that?"
"Just dig a hole and toss him in?"
Lin Yu couldn’t hide his skepticism.
Zhao Dahu shook his head.
"I was going to have him cremated first, then bury him."
"Cremated?"
"You were just going to carry him like that?"
"At least call a hearse! Or were you planning to take a taxi?"
"Trust me, no cab driver in their right mind would pick you up like this."
Lin Yu was dead certain about that.
Compared to ordinary people, those in high-risk jobs—like drivers or sailors—were far more superstitious.
No taxi driver would dare take a corpse to the crematorium in the dead of night.
"I… I can’t afford a hearse," Zhao Dahu muttered, his eyes red.
"Can’t afford a hearse?"
"Don’t tell me you were going to walk there?"
Lin Yu was stunned.
Zhao Dahu fell silent, pressing his thick lips together. His lack of response was answer enough.
"You…"
Lin Yu stared at the pitiful figure before him, at a loss for words.
He mentally tallied up his savings.
Two months’ worth of earnings from the small bar came to 50,000. Then there was the 10,000 he’d swindled from Li Yuan, plus another 20,000 he’d conned out of him by faking a serious injury.
After deducting living expenses, he still had about 70,000 left in his account.
That was more than enough to cover a decent funeral.
But…
Did he really need to do this?
Lin Yu wrestled with the thought.
The money hadn’t come easy.
And if Li Yuan got driven out by the Fire Scorpion gang, his future earnings from the bar might dry up.
If that happened, this 70,000 might be all he had left.
Was he really going to spend a big chunk of it on this guy?
Studying Zhao Dahu’s hulking frame, Lin Yu knew one thing for sure—if he paid for the funeral now, Zhao Dahu would be eternally grateful. He’d probably pledge his loyalty on the spot, becoming Lin Yu’s most devoted follower.
But the question was… what would Lin Yu even do with a loyal lackey?
He wasn’t planning to join the underworld.
What use did he have for a subordinate?
Besides, given how spineless this guy was, he’d probably be useless at anything other than taking a beating.
Lin Yu’s mind warred with itself.
Logic told him to walk away. This was a losing investment.
But his feet refused to move.
Staring at that familiar-looking, dark-skinned face—so much like Niu Dafei’s—Lin Yu couldn’t bring himself to just leave.
After a long internal struggle, he settled on a compromise.
For the sake of that Niu Dafei-like face, he’d lend a small hand.
"Don’t walk there."
"I’ll cover the hearse."
Pulling out his phone, Lin Yu added,
"Add me. I’ll transfer you the money."
"Thank you, Brother Long."
"Thank you…"
Zhao Dahu, who had just barely stopped crying, started sobbing again, his gratitude pouring out in broken murmurs.
From his pocket, he pulled out a phone so outdated that Lin Yu doubted it could even handle mobile payments. After fumbling with it for a while, he finally pulled up the QR code to add Lin Yu on WeChat.
Once they were connected, Lin Yu tapped the red envelope icon.
His thumb hovered over the keypad as he hesitated again.
How much should he send?
Would 800 be enough?
Normally, that would cover a basic hearse.
But what if it wasn’t?
Better make it 1,000.
Just as his thumb was about to press the "1," Lin Yu paused once more.
Was 1,000 too little?
"How much do you have saved up?"
"Is it enough for the cremation?"
Lin Yu looked up and asked.
"It’s enough."
Zhao Dahu wiped his tears and nodded.
"My grandpa left me 700. That’s exactly enough for the cremation."
Hearing those choked words, Lin Yu’s heart ached.
This big oaf.
How could seven hundred yuan possibly be enough?
You think cremation is all there is to it?
After cremation, don’t you need an urn?
Transporting the body, disinfection—doesn’t all that cost money?
Better give him more.
Thinking this, Lin Yu pressed his thumb lightly against the number "2."
After tapping the "2," he moved his thumb to the "0" key, tapping it three times in quick succession.
His thumb lingered on the last "0."
In a split second of hesitation—before his rationality could kick in and stop him—he swiftly added another "0," then entered the six-digit password in a flash.
"Give your grandfather a proper burial."
Lin Yu tossed the words over his shoulder and turned away abruptly.
Like someone leaping off a bungee platform, he refused to let himself second-guess the decision. His pace quickened.
Behind him, a dull thud—likely the sound of knees hitting the ground—followed by Zhao Dahu’s tearful shouts of gratitude. Lin Yu tuned it all out, striding away without a backward glance.
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!
ive and Ruthless] Before his transmigration, Ye Xuan was playing a game called "Severing Emotions to Attain the Dao." The game's core wasn't about leveling up by fighting monsters, but about conquering various "bad women" with wicked personalities and cold, fickle natures. There was only one method to conquer them: stay unwaveringly by their side, then die at a critical moment, driving them to madness after losing the protagonist. The higher their level of regret, the higher the player's score. To dominate the server, Ye Xuan conquered all the bad women. In the early stages, he showered them with boundless tenderness, only to choose to sacrifice himself for them later, making them weep bitterly and drown in regret. Among them were: Xia Lengyue, the unfaithful immortal wife who chased after powerful men and discarded her husband like trash. Ye Qingcheng, the Demonic Venerable of the Joyous Union Sect, who appeared pure and innocent but was, in reality, promiscuous. Wu Lingxiao, the Empress of the Great Xia Dynasty, who lusted after men and loved maintaining a harem. Bai Qiangu of the Endless Demonic Sect: a bloodthirsty mass murderer. However, when the protagonist transmigrated into the game world, he made a horrifying discovery. Eight hundred years had already passed. The bad women he had conquered had now each become deities and revered ancestors. Faced with the endless stream of toxic women coming for him, Ye Xuan could only rely on his god-tier acting skills to carve a path of survival through this world of treacherous women.
saw a female celebrity tied up and stuffed in the trunk! Little did he know, countless cameras were aimed at him at this moment - this was a new type of reality show. The first randomly selected passerby was caught in less than an hour. But when Xu Moru was selected, things started to take an unexpected turn. "Damn, this isn't how the script goes. This Xu Moru is too bold, he's not following the rules at all." "Crap, is this guy taking it seriously?" "The female celebrity has been scared to tears!"
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.”
