The middle path at the fork in the road... dim, silent, devoid of any dazzling treasures or alluring aura, only rough, icy walls winding endlessly into the distance.
Compared to the resplendent and radiant passages on either side, this shabby middle path resembled an abandoned mine tunnel, as if on the verge of collapse at any moment, instinctively urging one to avoid it.
"Will you choose the guaranteed treasures, or gamble on an uncertain future?"
"A friendly reminder—the road ahead will be arduous, with no turning back. If you falter, your path ends here, and your body perishes. Choosing either side still offers a chance of survival."
The mysterious voice echoed once more.
"Heh..." Fang Fan chuckled softly, his gaze unwavering as he stepped forward resolutely. "What retreat do I even have left? Those who entered behind me are far stronger than I am."
"If I retreat, they’ll overtake me and crush me like an ant!"
"So I can only move forward—no retreat!"
"Even if the path ahead seems certain death, have you not heard that heaven never seals off all exits?"
"As long as I choose to walk, the path lies beneath my feet!"
As his words faded, Fang Fan strode boldly into the narrow, shadowy passage.
At first, it was so tight it barely fit a person, but after dozens of steps, it suddenly opened into a vast expanse!
The end of the path was a cliff, beyond which lay an abyss of terrifying nothingness.
Before the cliff stood a stone stele inscribed with the patterns of the Great Dao.
It read: Abyss of the Heavenly Scales.
Fang Fan habitually carved an encrypted proclamation onto the stele, declaring himself the first to claim this place and asserting all resources here as the private property of the Treasury Department of the Purple Star Immortal Court, further layering the threads of karma!
Even if he ultimately failed and perished here, as long as the Calamity-Sovereign arrived, they could rightfully challenge any being who dared lay hands on these resources, based on his declaration!
His heroic sacrifice would earn him a dedicated page in the Purple Star Immortal Court’s annals of history, while also adding a halo of honor to his father—a high-ranking official—freeing him to pursue his ambitions without reservation!
With this in mind, what did he have to fear?
Full speed ahead!
Buzz—!
Fang Fan stepped off the cliff and plunged headfirst into the terrifying void.
There was no solid ground here. He floated in an absolute, silent darkness—no light, no warmth, no matter, only pure, oppressive "nothingness" that seemed to devour all perception.
The absolute silence weighed on his mind, and he could even hear the sound of his own blood flowing.
Was he falling? Or rising? Time lost meaning.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he saw light—and an enormous, tangible structure.
It was a pair of scales!
Its body was forged from a material neither metal nor jade, dark gray and colossal, like pillars holding up the heavens.
Two immense arms stretched endlessly into the distance, beyond sight, with suns, moons, stars, black holes—even entire universes—hanging from them, as if being measured or kept in balance.
At this moment, the scales hovered at the center of the void in perfect equilibrium, exuding an aura of cold, absolute, and unyielding rule.
As Fang Fan approached, two landmasses—no, two weighing pans—manifested on either side of the scales. Chains of rules descended from the sky above each land, their ends hooked onto the arms of the scales.
The left pan depicted a tragic scene: a backward mortal world with lowly thatched huts, barren fields, marauding armies, and bandits running rampant. The people wore tattered clothes, their faces gaunt, eyes hollow, like lambs awaiting slaughter, devoid of hope.
Fang Fan’s pupils constricted as he spotted a little girl with braided pigtails, tear-streaked face, clutching her mother’s leg in desperate pleading—only to be traded away for another family’s child.
In stark contrast, the right pan held ten flawless immortal pills suspended in the air, their surfaces shimmering with iridescent light. Within them surged dense spiritual essence, manifesting wondrous phenomena and radiating boundless vitality and the essence of the Dao!
Pills of Ascension—consuming just one would instantly elevate a cultivator to the Profound Immortal realm. With all ten, one could forge an unparalleled immortal foundation, ascending directly to the Taiyi Sovereign realm!
This was a once-in-an-era opportunity that would drive any cultivator to madness.
Yet Fang Fan barely glanced at the pills, his gaze instead locking onto what lay beneath them—a vast, pale-white expanse. No, not an expanse—upon closer inspection, it was a sea of countless bleached bones!
"Scales, a mortal world, immortal pills... Is this a test of choice?"
Fang Fan frowned deeply.
Just then, a thunderous voice boomed in his mind.
[Make your choice within thirty seconds. You will be scored. Your current score is one hundred. When it reaches zero, you will slumber here forever.]
[Friendly reminder: both sides of the scales are real. Choosing the pills means the death of the masses; choosing the masses means forfeiting the pills. Whether you value the pills or the lives of mortals rests entirely on your decision.]
Without hesitation, Fang Fan declared, "I refuse pills forged from the suffering of mortals. They reek. They sicken me. I choose the masses!"
To enter the Purple Star Immortal Court, one’s character had to be beyond reproach—the Purple Star Heavenly Dao cherished all life, and its officials abhorred the suffering of mortals.
Moreover, his instincts told him this was the right choice. Following his heart could not be wrong.
Yet the outcome defied all expectations.
The voice seemed furious.
[What is the purpose of your cultivation? To forsake such an opportunity for mere mortals—do you think this makes you noble?]
[Deduct twenty points. Sever the left arm.]
[This is the price of playing the hero.]
As the words faded, the immortal pills vanished into the void, while the mortal world was blessed with heavenly favor, saving countless lives.
Only Fang Fan remained, his left arm disintegrating into dust in an instant, the pain searing into his soul. Even his consciousness of the arm was erased—meaning no regeneration, no restoration, no matter his abilities.
[Well? You saved them, yet they offer no gratitude. Do you regret your choice?]
"Hiss—"
Fang Fan gasped through the pain, but his resolve never wavered. "A mere arm in exchange for countless lives? I seek only clarity of mind. I regret nothing. Come—I still have eighty points left!"
esick Sect? Well, at least it's considered a respectable orthodox sect. Wait a minute— What kind of vibe are you all giving off? Shouldn’t this be a love-struck, romance-obsessed sect? Why does everyone here sound more like demonic cultivators? "Master, today he’s getting married. This disciple wishes to descend the mountain and crash the wedding, then toy with him to death right in front of his wife..." "Elder, I only got into your sect through connections, so why won’t you teach me anything?" "Because I also became an elder through connections." Thankfully, Su Ji was just an outer sect labor disciple. Surely, nothing too crazy would— "Junior Brother, you’ve broken through to Qi Refining. Once you sever your useless spiritual root, you can officially become an outer sect disciple." "The Great Dao is merciless. Don’t let a worthless spiritual root waste your essence and spirit, hindering your cultivation." Is this really the Lovesick Sect? ... Three years later, Su Ji sat in the seat of the Lovesick Sect’s sect master, sighing with emotion. His rise to this position all started when his junior sister adamantly insisted on preserving his "spiritual root." "Mmm... Senior Brother, what’s our relationship now?" "Stop talking. Keep going." "By the way, that newly promoted top-tier sect—didn’t they come to buy our Love Beans?" "One top-grade spirit stone per Love Bean—is that really so expensive?" "I suspect they’ve eaten too many Love Beans." "Now they’re lovesick." Well, this really is the Lovesick Sect after all.
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...
reezy rom-com) Good news: Jiang Liu is quite the ladies' man. Bad news: He’s lost his memory. Lying in a hospital bed, Jiang Liu listens to a parade of goddesses spouting "absurd claims," feeling like the world is one giant game of Werewolf. "Jiang Liu, I’m your first love." "Jiang Liu, you’re my boyfriend—she’s your ex." "Jiang Liu, we’re close friends who’ve shared a bed, remember?" "Jiang Liu, I want to have your baby." The now-lucid Jiang Liu is convinced this must be some elaborate scam... until someone drops the bombshell: "The day before you lost your memory, you confessed your feelings—and got into a relationship." Jiang Liu is utterly baffled. So... who the hell is his actual girlfriend?! ... Before recovering his memories, Jiang Liu must navigate this minefield of lies and sincerity, fighting to protect himself from these women’s schemes. But things spiral even further out of control as more people show up at his doorstep—each with increasingly unhinged antics. On the bright side, the memories he lost due to overwhelming trauma seem to be resurfacing. Great news, right? So why are they all panicking now?
u Chenyuan transmigrated into a female-oriented novel about a real and fake heiress, becoming the CEO elder brother of both. Unfortunately, the entire Lu family—including himself, the CEO—were mere cannon fodder in the story. Determined to save himself, Lu Chenyuan took action. The spoiled, attention-seeking fake heiress? Thrown into the harsh realities of the working class to learn humility. The love-struck real heiress? Pushed toward academic excellence, so lofty goals would blind her to trivial romances. As for the betrayed, vengeful arranged marriage wife… the plot hadn’t even begun yet. There was still time—if he couldn’t handle her, he could at least avoid her. "CEO Lu, are you avoiding me?" Mo Qingli fixed her gaze on Lu Chenyuan. For the first time, the shrewd and calculating Lu Chenyuan felt a flicker of unease.
