Ice Profound Palace
The northern wind howled, swirling snowflakes like dancing jade petals.
Ye Chuan had traversed space from the Western Luo Kingdom to arrive here. The biting cold, carrying shards of ice, lashed against his Pikachu-patterned sleepwear, yet the chaotic energy swirling around him devoured the chill entirely.
Hovering mid-air outside the gates of Ice Profound Palace, Ye Chuan took in the sight of the sect.
Below, the mountain peaks stretched like ink strokes across a canvas, their surfaces sheathed in eternal ice that gleamed like colored glaze. The palace halls clung to the slopes, their upturned eaves adorned with icicles three feet long, their roofs buried under thick snow. From a distance, the structures seemed fused with the icy peaks themselves.
An ice-and-snow palace. Interesting.
Ye Chuan noticed spiritual energy seeping from the gaps between the buildings—emanations of cultivators practicing ice-attribute techniques. Clearly, this frigid land was their ideal training ground.
The higher the compatibility between a cultivator’s techniques and their environment, the faster their progress.
It’s not like tossing a fire-attribute cultivator into water would suddenly make them stronger, right?
Lowering his gaze, Ye Chuan swept it across the scattered halls below. Without moving an inch, he infused his voice with chaotic energy, letting it explode like thunder over the Ice Profound Palace. Every word rang clear in the ears of every disciple and elder.
"Your sect master, Bing Aotian, is dead. I’ve come today to claim all of your sect’s resources."
"Leave now, and I’ll spare your life."
As his words faded, even the falling snow seemed to freeze mid-air.
The Ice Profound Palace was no longer the thriving force it once was—half its disciples had already been slaughtered by Ye Chuan in the snowy mountains and the royal city. Those who remained were the ones trembling in fear.
Yet, even so, dozens of figures shot into the sky at his audacious declaration, their magical artifacts gleaming. Leading them was an elder in a cyan robe, his hair and beard white as snow, his body wreathed in icy mist—clearly a late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator.
He was also the sect’s Grand Elder.
"You dare?!" the cyan-robed elder roared, icy-blue spiritual energy coalescing into a frozen spike in his palm. "Who are you, you insolent wretch? How dare you slander our sect master! Do you think just because he’s away, our sect is defenseless?"
The other elders summoned their own treasures—some held jade plates pulsing with glacial light, others gripped frost-coated swords. Their spiritual energy intertwined into an invisible net, encircling Ye Chuan.
Yet, despite their efforts, their ice-attribute attacks dissolved harmlessly against him, devoured without a trace.
One of the elders scrutinized Ye Chuan and sneered. "A thieving rat, that’s all you are! Did you really think a lie would scare the Ice Profound Palace?"
"Even if the sect master isn’t here, we won’t tolerate your insolence!" another elder spat. "Fool! Today, we’ll grind your bones to dust and scatter your ashes!"
Ye Chuan listened to their jeers, idly crushing a snowflake between his fingers. His tone remained indifferent. "Bing Aotian died by my hand. If you don’t believe me—"
Before he could finish, the cyan-robed elder erupted in fury. "Nonsense! The sect master’s power is unfathomable—how could he fall to a brat like you? Attack! Kill him!"
No sooner had he spoken than dozens of techniques surged toward Ye Chuan—ice spikes shrieking through the air, jade plates unleashing beams of freezing light, swords slashing out blizzards of blades. Each strike carried the full might of a Nascent Soul cultivator, enough to flatten a mountain range.
"Told them the truth, but they won’t listen. Sigh… being honest is hard."
Ye Chuan sighed, but as the attacks closed in, a flicker of disdain crossed his eyes.
His left hand remained behind his back. With his right, he casually raised a pitch-black soul banner into existence. Blood-red runes adorned its surface, and even without activation, it exuded a sinister ghostly aura.
"Insignificant Nascent Soul ants, daring to show off before me?"
"Time for re-education!"
His fingers flicked, chaotic energy swirling forth. The seemingly gentle force acted like a black hole, swallowing every ice-attribute attack without leaving a trace of residual energy.
Then, Ye Chuan channeled his full spiritual power into the banner. The fabric rippled without wind, the crimson runes glowing an eerie red amidst the snowstorm.
"Since you refuse to leave, you’ll stay in the Ice Profound Palace forever."
As he spoke, a violet light burst from the banner’s tip, and a spectral figure slowly materialized within it—
Clad in the sect master’s robes, the figure’s face was unmistakably Bing Aotian’s. But his eyes were hollow, his body bound in chains—a soul stripped of autonomy!
"S-Sect Master?!" The cyan-robed elder’s pupils shrank, his voice trembling. "Y-You… you turned him into a soul puppet?!"
The other elders and disciples were paralyzed with terror, their earlier bravado gone. Without hesitation, they turned and fled toward the sect gates in a frenzy, abandoning their artifacts mid-air.
"Too late to run now."
Ye Chuan flicked his wrist. The soul banner unleashed a black domain, instantly engulfing the entire Ice Profound Palace.
Having absorbed countless souls, the banner had evolved into a Ten Thousand Souls Banner. Within its domain, the spirits of the dead were inexorably drawn in, amplifying Ye Chuan’s power.
Dark chains materialized like vipers, coiling around the fleeing cultivators. Piercing screams echoed as the chains skewered flesh, the dull thuds of impact reverberating through the storm.
In moments, every escaping cultivator was ensnared, their souls siphoned into the banner like prizes in a claw machine.
[Nascent Soul soul absorbed. Artifact boosts host’s attributes by +20%]
[Nascent Soul soul absorbed. Artifact boosts host’s attributes by +19%]
[Nascent Soul soul absorbed. Artifact boosts host’s attributes by +18%]
[Nascent Soul soul absorbed. Artifact boosts host’s attributes by +12%]
[Golden Core soul absorbed. Artifact boosts host’s attributes by +1%]
...
The banner pulsed with an ominous glow. In mere breaths, Ye Chuan had refined every living being in the sect, his aura now dense and terrifying.
With his task complete, he stowed the banner away.
Shaking his head, he mused.
The world was always about the strong devouring the weak.
Ye Chuan still remembered his past lives in text-based adventures—how he’d been crushed like an ant underfoot without a second thought.
Expanding his divine sense, he scanned the sect until he located what resembled a treasury.
In a flash, he appeared inside the vault.
Guarded only by a few Transformation Spirit cultivators, the treasures within were disappointingly sparse—far poorer than he’d expected.
"No, this is just pathetic," Ye Chuan muttered, noting the scarcity of even spirit stones.
"Strange..."
Picking up an inventory ledger, he discovered the reason—the Ice Profound Palace had funneled nearly all its resources to the Holy Land, all to groom their prodigy, Bing San, into a worthy successor.
young master of the Shen family—a figure of immense power and wealth beyond measure—and awakened the "Destined Ultimate Villain System"! His starting scenario? Running into his icy fiancée who shows up with a mountain-descending divine doctor to break off their engagement. The divine doctor arrogantly taunts: "What does your Shen family have besides a bit of stinking money? You're not even worthy of tying Qingxue's shoelaces!" Shen Fei just smiled. He completely defied the usual script: "Fine, I agree to break off the engagement. Also, notify the finance department to withdraw all investments from the Su family." Minutes later, with its capital chain severed, the Su Group teetered on the brink of bankruptcy! The once aloof and proud ice queen CEO was thrown into utter panic. That very night, she went to Shen Fei's villa, casting aside all dignity to beg and plead desperately... From then on, in this world teeming with Sons of Destiny, Shen Fei embarked on a path of extreme dimensional suppression! A mountain-descending divine doctor? Peerless medical skills? Shen Fei: "Reporting you for practicing medicine without a license! I'll gladly take your ancient medicinal cauldron and twin sister assassins." The Crooked-Smiling Dragon King? Commanding a hundred thousand soldiers with a single order? Shen Fei: "Illegal assembly and suspected treason! Let a fleet of attack helicopters sanitize the area and teach you what the state apparatus really means!" A reborn tycoon? Knows all the golden opportunities of the next decade? Shen Fei: "A trillion in capital to reverse and pump the stock market, making you blow your margin and jump on the very first day of your rebirth!" What Chosen Ones? What bearers of Heavenly Fortune? In Shen Fei's eyes, they're all just chives (i.e., suckers/marks) waiting to be harvested! Shen Fei: "Sorry, but as the Destined Ultimate Villain, I don't play by the rules of honor. I only play the game of dimensional suppression."
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.”
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...
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.
