In an ancient underground tomb.
Dozens of grotesque tomb guardian beasts writhed in the darkness, each larger than a grown man. Only when they drew near the flickering torchlight did their forms become clear.
Human-faced bats.
Swoosh—
A gleaming sword sliced through one, cleaving it effortlessly in two.
The firelight illuminated the blade in the dim chamber.
Dozens of sword rays crisscrossed the air as the disciples of the Hengyun Sword Sect wielded their Flowing White Sword Formation, fending off the savage creatures attacking from all sides.
The formation appeared unshakable.
Yet nearly every swordsman bore injuries.
"This is clearly no place of inheritance," muttered Bai Jinghong, his chest bleeding, his face tinged with green from poison.
"Jinghong, you should retreat into the formation to recuperate. You're poisoned," Cao Mu said gravely.
Suddenly, his eyes flickered upward as a shadow darted from above. He leapt like a spring uncoiling, slamming into it midair.
It was a four-winged bat, cunningly evading the sword light before vanishing back into the shadows to watch.
"Watch the ceiling!" Cao Mu roared.
The group tensed immediately.
These tomb guardians were chaotic and disorganized, individually weak but unnervingly sly, employing bizarre tactics.
The three elites of Hengyun exchanged glances and took a deep breath.
They had been separated from their elders upon entering and then ambushed by these creatures. Their original plan—to hold their ground until the elders found them—now seemed impossible. They’d be worn down before help arrived.
"We must kill the Bat King."
"Only Jinghong can wound it."
"We need to wait for the right moment..."
This was a joint sword technique they had learned after listening to Ying Bing’s lectures in the Sword City. The three silently adjusted their breathing, circulating their sword energy.
Then Cao Mu, the most keen-eared, suddenly gave a signal.
The instant he did, Bai Jinghong was enveloped in a river-like surge of sword energy, shooting skyward in a flash toward the shadow above.
The massive human-faced Bat King seemed to sense danger, emitting a skull-splitting sonic screech before attempting to flee into darkness.
But Bai Jinghong was faster, chasing it with his sword.
In the darkness, sword light flashed, wings flapped wildly, and the beast’s death shrieks grew increasingly shrill.
After a long ten seconds—
Thud!
Two halves of the corpse crashed to the ground.
The swarming shadows finally scattered like headless flies.
"Jinghong!"
"Senior Brother!"
Bai Jinghong’s face was now entirely green, his breath weak. He staggered upon landing, nearly collapsing.
"It’s fine. With time, the poison won’t be a problem."
The group sighed in relief—at least the immediate danger had passed. Once the elders arrived, everything would be resolved...
"Stay alert," Wu Chushu warned, shoving a handful of antidote pills into Bai Jinghong’s hand. "Who knows what else lurks—"
Thud—
Before he could finish, the ground trembled, sending pebbles bouncing.
Footsteps. But far too heavy...
Cao Mu’s expression twisted in horror, sweat dripping from his brow.
"Something’s coming... straight for us."
"Don’t tell me those earlier beasts were just the appetizer..." Wu Chushu muttered before slapping his own mouth.
"!!"
The group paled, their breaths instinctively quieting.
Senior Brother Wu, can you please shut your mouth?!
Way to jinx it!
One bold swordsman hurled a light source forward, dispelling the darkness—and revealing the approaching silhouette.
The shadow dwarfed the previous tomb guardians, easily several times larger, resembling the black Nian beast in both size and kind.
This, too, was a black Nian. Its eyes gleamed with something disturbingly human—
Mockery?
Those earlier disaster beasts had been its doing.
Bai Jinghong was the only one who could wound it, and now he was barely standing.
"Screw it, let’s fight to the death."
"It’s just a peak fourth-realm beast... worst case, we take it down with us!"
Wu Chushu tore his sleeve, binding his sword to his hand.
Cao Mu shot him a silent glare.
If they survived this, he was going to poison Wu Chushu’s voice box.
Whoosh—
A foul wind blasted past as the black Nian lunged, showing no interest in toying with prey—only in devouring them whole.
The swordsmen braced for a desperate last stand.
Then, a familiar voice echoed through the tomb:
"Move aside!"
Instinctively, they obeyed.
A chilling aura surged from the darkness behind them, followed by a dazzling, icy sword light.
Like a fleeting shadow piercing the void, the sword moved faster than the eye could follow.
Sssk—
The blade plunged into the black Nian’s chest.
Frost spread from the wound, threatening to freeze it solid in moments.
The beast stared in shock at the cold-faced maiden holding the sword, then spoke in human tongue:
"You... didn’t die?"
It erupted into frenzy, ignoring the Hengyun disciples entirely as it charged her.
But then—
A series of glowing talismans materialized in the air, freezing the beast mid-motion.
A figure followed close behind the maiden, swinging a hammer wreathed in raging karma flames. The crushing force came down like a falling mountain.
Boom!
The Nian was smashed into the ground.
Without pause, the attacker pounced, hammering relentlessly.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Each strike shook the tomb.
"Mother of..." Wu Chushu gulped.
"It’s them," Cao Mu exhaled in relief.
Bai Jinghong’s tension also eased.
Finally, the hammering ceased. That Nian had likely been pulverized into paste.
"As expected of the Divine—"
"Hm?"
"Er—I mean, as expected of Sword Immortal Li!"
Wu Chushu eyed the bloodstained hammer and awkwardly corrected himself.
"Thank you, Sword Immortal Li, for saving our lives."
The disciples, abandoning pride, showered the young Li with praise, their flattery endless.
"What luck, running into you here."
"Not entirely luck."
Li Mo had taken a detour for this, deliberately straying from the optimal path in the tomb’s puzzle.
Just then, the system chimed:
[Congratulations, Host. Successful investment in ‘Wu Chushu,’ preventing his demise.]
[You have unclaimed investment rewards.]
[Congratulations, Host. Successful investment in ‘Bai Jinghong,’ preventing his demise.]
[You have unclaimed investment rewards.]
...
At least the rescue came with compensation.

pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"

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.”

with countless casualties. As a top-tier gamer, Liu Xuan volunteered to join the fight, intending to dominate with his skills, but instead he obtained the hidden class: [Pacifist]. Unable to attack. Unable to use active skills. Fortunately, with each level gained, he acquired a new passive skill. And so, armed with a body full of passives, Liu Xuan slaughtered his way through the battlefield of ten thousand races! [You attacked Liu Xuan] [You gained the debuffs: 'Poison', 'Fear', 'Burning', 'Bleeding', 'Freeze', 'Silence', etc.] [Your attack speed has been reduced by 99%] [Your armor and magic resistance have been reduced by 99%] Warriors of the Ten Thousand Races: How the hell am I supposed to fight this?!