Young Master Song had never suffered such humiliation in his life.
Was this proper?
This was anything but proper.
He hastily hitched up his trousers and bellowed,
"Where are the men outside? Are they all just sitting around stuffing their faces?"
He was referring to the servants he had brought.
"Even if you scream your lungs out, they won’t come," Li Mo shook his head.
"Boss."
The young women who had been hiding nearby earlier now scurried to stand behind him.
Young Master Song froze. The words sounded oddly familiar, but he kept his face stern and said,
"You reckless fool. Do you even know who I am—a man of the Song family—to dare open a business here?"
Hua Nongying, still pinned in place, couldn’t help but glance at Li Mo with a complicated expression.
"We don’t do needlework here. Get out."
Li Mo had already used his Heavenly Destiny Divine Eye and hadn’t moved an inch.
Young Master Song was first stunned, then his face rapidly flushed red, veins throbbing on his forehead.
He recognized who stood before him—the infamous top-ranked genius of the Hidden Dragon List, the Divine Hammer Little Tyrant.
After all, the day the "Rivers and Mountains Scroll" had enveloped the entire capital, it was impossible not to notice.
He glared at Li Mo and spat viciously,
"So what if you’re the Hidden Dragon’s top rank? What good is strength? In the capital, what matters is status, connections—"
"Godfather, what’s going on?"
Zhong Zhenyue strode in, dragging an unconscious servant behind him, and chuckled,
"These thugs claimed they were from Minister Song’s household. Like I’d believe that? Minister Song oversees the Great Yu’s rites and decorum—would he really come here for a foot wash? Is that proper? Oh—?"
He blinked in surprise at Young Master Song and blurted out,
"Song Qian?"
"??"
Young Master Song’s neck shrunk, and he took two steps back.
"Who’s the pebble in my shoe when I’m just trying to relax?"
Xie Xuan also stepped in, spitting out a blade of grass, looking like an unleashed hound ready to hunt.
"Fine, fine... we’re leaving!"
Song Qian’s face twisted.
Without another word, he hitched up his pants, skirted around the group, and quickened his pace as if ghosts were chasing him.
"Huh?"
Watching the man flee as if his parents had given him too few legs, Li Mo was baffled.
Wait, wasn’t this supposed to be the classic moment of showing off and putting someone in their place?
He hadn’t even started—how was it already over?
"What just happened?" Li Mo looked at the other two in confusion.
Zhong Zhenyue scratched the back of his head. "Ah, well, when I was a kid, I was a bit of a troublemaker..."
As everyone knew, the Prince of Zhennan was the God of War of the Southern Frontier, the last remaining Divine General of Great Yu, always guarding the borders.
This meant Zhong Zhenyue had grown up lacking paternal affection—especially the kind that could flatten mountains.
Back in his youth in the capital, he’d probably been no better than Li Mo, the Little Demon King of Qinghe Town. And Song Qian had been one of his victims.
"He couldn’t pee as far as me, so I tied him to a tree and flicked him for half an hour. After that, he turned out like this. Eh, it’s not like I’m some monster..."
"......"
No wonder Song Qian had turned into "Song the Flincher."
So the root of it all was you.
"She’s likely been hit with the Confucian martial art—'A Gentleman Uses His Mouth, Not His Hands.'"
Xie Xuan glanced at Hua Nongying.
"...Manager Hua, you can get up now."
Li Mo released his Moonlight Spirit Intent, freeing Hua Nongying from her restraints.
This is a Confucian martial art?
Seeing his odd expression, Xie Xuan explained, "I heard Confucians back in the day were quite martial. Every time they sat down to debate, they’d end up brawling when words failed."
"So whenever Confucians debated, limbs were bound to go missing."
"Later, a Seventh-Realm Confucian Sage-Second saw how bad it was and created this technique."
Li Mo: "......"
Who knew if that Sage-Second would leap out of his coffin if he knew his "Gentleman Uses His Mouth, Not His Hands" was being used like this.
"Thank you... Boss."
Hua Nongying stood up, lowering her head but stealing glances at Li Mo.
"No need. It’s store policy. I’d do the same for anyone. In our shop, no one kneels to others."
"...Mm."
The small flame that had flickered in Hua Nongying’s eyes quietly died out.
......
In the carriage, the coachman couldn’t help but ask,
"Young Master, are we really just leaving like this?"
"What else? Stay there and get tied to a tree again?"
Song Qian’s face was twisted in fury, his teeth nearly drawing blood.
As the saying goes, the barefooted fear not the shod.
Zhong Zhenyue was, without a doubt, a complete madman.
Xie Xuan? Don’t even mention him. If Xie Xuan entered the Eastern Palace, the brute would dare point at the Crown Prince’s nose and curse.
And these two legendary madmen both followed the Divine Hammer Little Tyrant’s lead...
Just how lawless was Li Mo?
The head servant quickly added, "Exactly, you’re a priceless jade—why collide with mere tiles? Not worth it, not worth it."
"...Hm."
"Eh? Young Master, why are you touching my—Young Master?! This isn’t proper!"
The head servant turned around, his face suddenly paling in horror.
Song Qian, who had been barely holding it together earlier, was now staring at him with bloodshot eyes, breathing heavily.
"Blood Refining Hall’s products—always top quality."
Well, if you ignored the side effects.
......
Eastern Palace.
A faint shadow descended from the sky, landing in a cage—a dull-feathered silver falcon.
A eunuch retrieved the letter from its talons and delivered it into the palace with bowed head.
Beyond the palace walls, by the winding lake of the Eastern Palace, two figures sat in a pavilion.
One was Empress Chuge, her hair adorned with ornaments that likely weighed over ten pounds, her beauty as radiant as a blooming peony.
Opposite her was her beloved son, the future ruler of the Great Yu Dynasty, the heartwarming elder brother...
"Yu’er, in the Heavenly City Realm, the one who ultimately wields the power of Heaven may not be the strongest."
"Otherwise, there’d be no need for the Heavenly City—just let the top-ranked Hidden Dragon claim the Heavenly Sword outright."
"Only those who can truly dictate the fate of the world will have the last laugh."
"A fish that leaps the Dragon Gate is still a fish—different from those of us standing on the shore."
Empress Chuge gazed at the koi in the pond, her voice soft.
"Mother, I have no intention of slacking," Jiang Yu replied, his tone unreadable.
Empress Chuge wasn’t displeased—in fact, she smiled and patted the back of his hand.
What made Yu’er so good was this:
He was more obedient than Jingtai.
And more like her.
"Your Majesty, Your Highness..."
A palace attendant presented the newly arrived letter.
"From Nongying?" Empress Chuge twirled the letter, scanning it. "The Hundred Flowers Grand Festival... how novel."
"With Your Majesty’s grace overseeing it, it would be most fitting. However..." Jiang Yu also read the letter.
"Will the officials agree?"
The civil and military officials were conservative. Since the Hidden Dragon Tournament, there had never been a Hundred Flowers Festival.
"That will be for the officials and His Majesty to discuss. I wouldn’t dare overstep my bounds. Yu’er... visit the Dragon-Keeping Pavilion tonight."
With that, she rose.
Once seated in her palanquin, she pulled out another letter from her sleeve.
Narrowing her eyes, she murmured,
"Ying Bing, of the Qingyuan Sect in Purple Sun Prefecture, aged seventeen."
"Rumored to have inherited the legacy of the Great Shang Dynasty, bearing within..."
"A fragmented Celestial City Realm?"
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?"
ap a wealthy young lady? Or else I'll be eliminated by the system? Ye Feng, who awakened the Kidnapper System, originally wanted to live a peaceful life but never imagined he would become a kidnapper of young women. However, after some time, he discovered that all the girls the system ordered him to kidnap were far from ordinary. "Big brother Ye Feng~ You've kidnapped my heart, and now you're not allowed to leave me ever again~" "Ye Feng~ You kidnapped me back then, now it's my turn to capture you♡" "Little Feng, you're mine! You can only be mine!" "Ye Feng, none of them deserve you. Only I love you the most♡" ... This is madness, they've all gone mad! Wait, what? Why are all the girls I kidnapped yanderes?!
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.
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.”
