Ye Chuan coughed for a good while after hearing Wang Yanran casually throw out a figure of one million. He studied the dead-serious expression on the young woman's face, his mind racing with calculations.
How the hell is this girl so loaded? She didn’t even blink at tossing out a million like it was pocket change.
Are you messing with me?
But Wang Yanran didn’t seem to be joking. Maybe he’d just been poor for too long—the idea of someone paying a million for a video felt utterly absurd to him.
Noticing Ye Chuan’s prolonged silence and coughing, Wang Yanran quickly clarified, "Senior, do you want ten million instead? I don’t have that much liquid cash on hand right now, but I could gather it in a few days."
"No, no, a million’s fine. More than enough," Ye Chuan coughed again, not wanting her to go through the trouble of gathering more money. Who knew what kind of complications might pop up in those few days?
What if this woman got killed by that guy again? Or changed her mind halfway?
Money in hand was the only real security. Taking more would just invite unnecessary trouble.
Putting on a composed front, he said, "Transfer me the million, and I’ll send you the video."
"Deal!"
Wang Yanran had no issue with the price. After all, Ye Chuan had saved her life, and the video contained crucial evidence. A million was more than reasonable.
"Send it to this account." After adding Wang Yanran as a contact, Ye Chuan shared his bank details.
Ever since the "Myriad Realms" app appeared on his phone, his bank transactions seemed shielded from scrutiny—no investigations, no matter how large the sums.
When the million hit his account, Ye Chuan’s heart pounded wildly.
This trip had been beyond worth it. Not only had he gained a cowardly ghost tenant, but he’d also scored a cool million for free.
[Account balance has reached the specified threshold. Myriad Realms APP now unlocks Alchemy and Medicine Crafting functions.]
A pop-up notification on his phone made him pause.
Huh?
Alchemy? Medicine Crafting?
What bizarre new features was this app rolling out now? Could he start brewing his own Tiger Strength Pills?
"Senior, did you receive the money?" Wang Yanran asked, noticing his distracted stare at the screen.
"Oh, yeah. Got it." Ye Chuan snapped back to reality and forwarded the video to her. "Alright, Miss Wang, till we meet again."
He then gave Lan Xiaoke’s ghostly backside a light kick. "Come on, coward. Let’s go home."
"I can’t leave," Lan Xiaoke whined, rubbing her spectral rear.
If she could’ve left, she would’ve done so ages ago. Ever since choking to death, Lan Xiaoke had been bound to the fifth floor, wandering aimlessly every night.
"She’s a low-tier earthbound spirit—what people call a ‘lingering ghost.’ Sudden deaths with unresolved grudges often trap souls like hers," Wang Yanran explained.
Lan Xiaoke nodded vigorously, like a chick pecking at rice.
"So how do I take her with me?" Ye Chuan asked.
"Resolve her lingering regret, and she can either reincarnate or leave this place." Wang Yanran turned to Lan Xiaoke. "What’s something you still wish for?"
Lan Xiaoke blurted out, "I—I want to log into my game account!"
The answer left both Ye Chuan and Wang Yanran speechless.
"Seriously? Other ghosts usually want revenge or to see their loved ones. What kind of ghost are you?" Ye Chuan stared at her incredulously.
A gamer ghost?
Did this shut-in die mid-raid?
"You don’t understand! I looted an item worth tens of thousands! But I died before I could sell it!" Lan Xiaoke flailed her translucent arms in frustration. "I barely had any allowance, and just when I was about to strike it rich—BAM! Dead!"
Ye Chuan suddenly sympathized.
Dying right before cashing in on a windfall? Yeah, that’d leave anyone resentful.
But what kind of in-game item was worth that much?
After getting the game’s name from Lan Xiaoke, Ye Chuan frowned. "That sounds familiar..."
He pulled out his phone and searched.
"Discontinued twenty years ago?" The moment the words left his mouth, Lan Xiaoke froze.
She floated closer, eyes bulging. "WHAT?!!"
Confirming the truth on his screen, her spirit seemed to age decades in an instant. Collapsing like a deflated balloon, she wailed,
"My fortune... gone?"
Ye Chuan gave her a sidelong glance. "What year were you born?"
"1988."
Ye Chuan: "..."
So you’ve been dead for over two decades.
"I don’t wanna ‘live’ anymore," Lan Xiaoke muttered.
"You’re already dead."
"Waaah—" Her wails intensified, bloody tears nearly splashing onto Ye Chuan.
Sorrow. Absolute despair.
"With her regret resolved, she’s free to leave now," Wang Yanran observed as Lan Xiaoke sniffled pathetically.
Hearing this, Lan Xiaoke perked up. She drifted to the window and tentatively reached outside.
Previously, an invisible force would’ve yanked her back, but this time—nothing. She hovered beyond the window frame, eyes sparkling. "I’m free?!!"
"Now will you come home with me?" Ye Chuan asked as she cartwheeled through the air.
Lan Xiaoke’s expression turned sly. "Heh, no way!"
"FREEDOM!!" With that, she spun around to flee—
Only for crimson light to erupt from the classroom. Chains of energy shot through the window, wrapping around her and hauling her back inside!
"Eeek?!!"
Struggling proved useless against the glowing restraints.
Meeting Ye Chuan and Wang Yanran’s deadpan stares, she forced a sweet smile. "Uh, just kidding?"
Without changing expression, Ye Chuan glanced at Wang Yanran.
"You got any more of those lightning talismans? A few shocks should straighten her out."
Wang Yanran nodded—she had plenty.
"NOOOOOO!!!!" Lan Xiaoke’s head shook like a rattle drum.
But Ye Chuan was only teasing. Seeing Lan Xiaoke’s already pale face go ghostlier, Wang Yanran handed him a Spirit Subduing Talisman instead. "This will let you command minor ghosts."
"Not bad." As Ye Chuan ignited the talisman, a slender chain materialized around Lan Xiaoke’s neck like a collar.
"A single thought from you can reduce her to ashes," Wang Yanran added matter-of-factly, ignoring Lan Xiaoke’s withering glare.
I’m doomed.
Now I’m someone’s ghost slave.
At this moment, Lan Xiaoke’s heart truly died—again.
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
d intelligence to keep the plot moving, and sometimes even the protagonists are forced into absurdly dumb decisions. Why does the A-list celebrity heroine in urban romance novels ditch the top-tier movie star and become a lovestruck fool for a pockmarked male lead? Why do the leads in historical tragedy novels keep dancing between love and death, only for the blind healer to end up suffering the most? And Gu Wei never expected that after finally landing a villain role to stir up trouble, she’d pick the wrong gender! No choice now—she’ll just have to crush the protagonists as a girl!
to panic—he has a system. As long as an investment target dies, he can claim a reward. And since he is immortal, the one thing he has plenty of is time. ... Countless years later. “Immortal Emperor of Longevity? I invested in him.” “Supreme Celestial Venerable? I invested in him.” “Undying Empress? I invested in her.” “...” “Heh. Once they’ve all died, even the Heavenly Dao will have to kneel and call me Dad.”
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.
