The summons from the Crimson Saint came suddenly, as if offering the Cloud-top Sword Sect one last chance at survival. The elders began to bustle about excitedly, planning to restore the sect's former glory.
To this end, the elders of the Cloud-top Sword Sect swallowed their pride and sought out Chen Xia. They approached him with utmost humility, meeting him at the cliff's edge to make their plea.
"Please lend us your aid. Protect the Cloud-top Sword Sect for another hundred years. In return, we are willing to offer you thirty percent of our sect's foundation."
Chen Xia didn't turn his head. His fingers lightly tapped on his knee as he replied indifferently.
"I don't want your foundation, nor do I wish to protect you. I have no real connection to the Cloud-top Sword Sect. My presence here in your sect is merely taking advantage of the terrain. I can ensure the survival of your remaining cultivators, but nothing more. I won't prevent serious injuries."
The elders bowed their heads, offering no rebuttal. Chen Xia's words were true; he had no real ties to the Cloud-top Sword Sect. They couldn't even appeal to his moral obligations.
Chen Xia continued, "Even with my protection, it would be difficult for the Cloud-top Sword Sect to rise again within a hundred years. You still can't escape the fate of decline and disappearance."
He paused for a moment before concluding, "When you came to ask for my protection for a hundred years, your fate was already sealed."
A sect without the ability to protect itself has only one outcome: decline.
The elders didn't argue. They sighed and departed one by one.
The seasons continued to change as usual.
More elders left the Cloud-top Sword Sect, claiming they were going on pilgrimages to seek opportunities for the sect's revival. No one knew how long they would be gone.
Everyone understood that the departing cultivators probably wouldn't return.
Even the departing cultivators themselves knew this.
The wind blew cold, and fewer people remained.
The Cloud-top Sword Sect began to lack even clouds. Misty snow started to fall, blanketing the entire mountain range, as if wrapping it in silver.
An old man approached the long-deserted cliff where Chen Xia sat. He carried a jug of wine, stumbling towards Chen Xia's back. His aged face was flushed red, as if drunk. He pointed at Chen Xia's back and shouted.
"You, great sword immortal! You bear such a grand title, yet you do nothing of consequence. You sit at this cliff's edge day after day. I truly can't understand it. What's so special about this cliff that you must stare at it every day?"
Chen Xia turned his head slightly to glance at him. His temper had indeed improved considerably, and his expression remained calm as he said nothing.
Emboldened, the old man pointed at Chen Xia's nose and berated him, "You've sat in the Cloud-top Sword Sect for so many years. Shouldn't you have developed some feelings for it by now? How can you be unwilling to lift a finger to help? Even if the sect hasn't done you any favors, even if some people speak ill of you behind your back, you shouldn't be so petty!"
Chen Xia countered with a question.
"How long has the Cloud-top Sword Sect existed?"
The old man frowned, thought for a moment, and replied, "According to historical records, about three thousand years or so. The exact number isn't specified."
Chen Xia nodded and asked another question, "How long have I stayed in the Cloud-top Sword Sect?"
"Less than three hundred years," the old man answered truthfully.
"If you had lived for thirty thousand years, would you feel emotionally attached after spending a mere three hundred uneventful years somewhere?" Chen Xia inquired.
The old man's face reddened. Though still somewhat intoxicated, he seriously considered the question before shaking his head. "Probably not."
He was about to say something else when Chen Xia suddenly stood up. At that moment, snow flurried through the air, and a flash of sword light seemed to appear between heaven and earth.
Crack.
The sword-like mountain peak in front of the cliff suddenly broke off. The break was clean and even, as if sliced by a single sword stroke.
Chen Xia looked at the old man with a calm expression and asked,
"Do you have any more questions?"
The old man's flushed face instantly turned pale. He sobered up considerably, his mind clearing as he recalled their conversation.
Thirty thousand years, three hundred years...
Thirty thousand years?!
His pupils dilated, clearly shocked to the extreme. Even his spiritual consciousness seemed to freeze.
Ancient texts mentioned that some great cultivators could achieve false reincarnation and cultivation renewal. They could deceive the Way of Heaven, temporarily dispersing their cultivation power and storing it with great mystical arts, only to slowly reclaim it later, giving the Way of Heaven the illusion that they were merely cultivating anew.
If what Chen Xia said was true, and he had a lifespan of thirty thousand years, how powerful a cultivator must he be?
He must be at least a Heaven Mending Realm cultivator!
Realizing that such a terrifying being had been right beside him, and that he had dared to speak to him in such a manner, the old man broke out in a cold sweat. The intoxication from the spirit wine completely vanished, leaving him staring blankly at Chen Xia.
Chen Xia clearly didn't want to hold anything against him; otherwise, it wouldn't have been the mountain peak that was cut off earlier. Seeing the old man frozen in place, he waved his hand and said,
"Go back. Drink more wine in the future. That way, even if you die, you won't have lived in vain. At least you'll have put on a good show."
The old man laughed dryly, rubbing his head and hurriedly apologizing to Chen Xia.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were... I'm truly sorry. My old eyes failed me. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I deserve to be punished!"
As he spoke, he slapped himself hard across the face several times, leaving bright red handprints.
Chen Xia said nothing, merely waving his hand to dismiss him.
The old man hastily fled.
After the old man left, Chen Xia turned and sat down again, quietly gazing at the scene before him.
With the mountain peak severed, the view in front of him became completely clear and bright.
In the distance, he could see great mountains and rivers; nearby, he could observe the flowers and grass at the foot of the mountain.
It was a beautiful sight.
In his thirty thousand years of life, this was the first time Chen Xia had truly settled his heart to appreciate a scene.
Perhaps it wasn't about viewing the scenery, but rather that his heart had rarely been so calm.
The lake of his heart was still, like an ancient well without ripples.
Chen Xia reached out, gently brushing away the white snow covering his hair, then smiled faintly at the heavens and earth.
Thirty thousand years of time.
Nothing more than a bit of wind and frost.
] [Lone Wolf, No Male Gaze] [Protagonist is pursued early on; extreme protagonist-stans, stay away!] The "Carnival Paradise" descends and slowly devours the real world in the form of a game. By chance, Zhu Yan awakens the talent [Roleplay], becoming one of the first beta players. He thought he could develop safely, but after clearing the first instance, he is branded by humanity as the chief culprit behind the game's spread—a traitorous villain. A villain? Who would ever... become one! He'll be the villain! From then on, Zhu Yan is not only a player but also a lackey for the Carnival Paradise. Between the straight path and the crooked path, he chooses the con. With his left hand, he dons the villain's mantle, staging scenes within instances, infuriating players who decry him as a despicable traitor, all while the game happily promotes him. With his right hand, he joins the non-human organization "Fangcun Mountain," which opposes the Carnival Paradise, transforming into a mysterious player who slaughters game bosses, earning cheers of "Long live the expert!" from fellow players. Gradually, Zhu Yan rises to become an S-rank human player in Fangcun Mountain's archives, while also being the Carnival Paradise's certified top game Boss. But when the final war erupts and both major factions place their hopes in him— Players tag his various aliases: "Experts, this offensive depends on you." The Carnival Paradise's supreme Boss throws an arm around his neck: "Bro, you're the iron, I'm the steel; you can't let me down again!"
uld barely embark on the path to immortality. Just as he was on the verge of death, his golden finger awakened. No matter whether it was poison, drained blood and vital energy, diminished lifespan, or any other physical debuff caused by paying a price—once midnight passed, everything would be refreshed. From then on, whenever someone asked what kind of person Chu Ran was, the answer was simple: Forbidden arts that other cultivators dared not learn? Chu Ran would learn them. Prices that even demonic cultivators dared not pay? Chu Ran would pay them. Lifespan that even righteous cultivators dared not burn? Chu Ran would burn it. All the blood essence in his body? Take it. Want both his hands and feet? He would cut them off and send them to you. You say he’s finished? He wasn’t built to sit idle. You think he’s gone mad? No—he was simply waiting for midnight. From that day onward, Chu Ran would respect neither Heaven nor Earth, bow to neither gods nor ghosts. He had only one wish: For midnight to arrive a little sooner.
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?!
ions, keeping it grounded and realistic】 After quitting his job, office worker Su Yang accidentally binds with the "Enjoy Life System." As the name suggests, simply by indulging in life's pleasures, he can earn random rewards from the system—no need to spend money on beautiful women or grovel before anyone. Just enjoy, and the money follows, making it all about effortless fun. The system comes with a scanning feature, allowing him to establish a favorability bond with women rated 85 points or above. Every 20-point increase in favorability unlocks additional rewards. After suffering through over twenty years of hardship, Su Yang trembles with excitement, his dull eyes suddenly gleaming with newfound hope. "Enjoy life? How hard could that be?"
