“What are you doing here?” Du Wufeng quickly tucked away the forging hammer he had been about to show off.
“Is it possible that I was already a disciple of the Qingyuan Sect?”
“That sounds right, but also feels a bit off.” Elder Hanhe scratched the back of his head, deep in thought.
He glanced at Li Mo—Xiao Mo was indeed a Qingyuan disciple.
Then he looked at Du Wufeng—this was Xiao Mo’s sworn brother.
Strictly speaking, Du Wufeng had once been an apprentice at the Sword Forge. Fancy titles like "disciple of the Divine Artisan" were just honorary; he was merely a nominal disciple.
And yet, he was also the Crown Prince. Shang Wu was of the same generation but held the title of Grand Emperor.
At the same time, he was an elder of the Qingyuan Sect.
So the question was—where exactly did Li Mo fit into this convoluted hierarchy?
When Li Mo asked to borrow the hammer, Du Wufeng raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you already have the Heavenly Artisan’s Hammer? Why covet mine? I hardly even use it myself.”
To a craftsman, their hammer was as precious as a swordsman’s blade—something they guarded with their life.
“As everyone knows, I excel at reforging. So this time, I plan to reforge the hammer treasure. And I thought—if the hammer treasure is the Heavenly Artisan’s Hammer, whose hammer in this world would be worthy of such an honor?”
Li Mo, hands clasped behind his back, suddenly turned to Du Wufeng with utmost solemnity.
“That craftsman… is you!”
“!”
Elder Hanhe was stunned, then sighed in resignation.
The words sent shivers down his spine, but alas, he was only a master craftsman—his forging hammer wasn’t worthy of such glory.
Only a Divine Artisan like Du Wufeng…
“Enough with the nonsense, kid. Fine, I’ll lend it to you.”
Du Wufeng’s lips twitched as he produced a jade-hued, flawlessly crafted cyan forging hammer. “Need my help?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Li Mo snatched the hammer and took a deep breath.
Du Wufeng couldn’t resist adding, “Be gentle with it, kid. Even I hardly dare to—”
“Understood. I’ll give it my all! Here goes nothing!”
“?”
Before Du Wufeng could regret his decision, Li Mo summoned the swirling stars within his inner world. The sun at its core blazed to life, unleashing Karmic Flames and Falling Starfire as he began his work.
“Divine Artisan Du, didn’t you say you never lend out your hammer—or your wife?”
Elder Hanhe was still processing the scene.
Divine Artisan Du puffed up proudly. “I don’t have a wife!”
Elder Hanhe: “…”
Neither did he.
But was that really something to boast about?
“I don’t have a wife.”
Despite his reluctant tone, Du Wufeng had intended to lend the hammer from the start. The moment Li Mo began forging, the old man’s eyes were glued to the process.
Those familiar with swordsmen knew that a Sword Saint’s techniques were mere hobbies.
Li Mo’s forging skills had advanced rapidly, but he still fell short of being a Divine Artisan.
Yet that day, he had accomplished the impossible—reforging the Celestial Divine Sword using the power of all living beings.
It had opened Du Wufeng’s eyes to an entirely new world.
To this day, he couldn’t fathom how it was done—yet Li Mo had managed it.
Could it be related to his inner landscape?
Du Wufeng watched intently.
As the hammer treasure slowly melted under the influence of rare materials, it reverted to the form it had taken when it first descended upon the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths—long before the Great Shang even existed.
A realization dawned on Li Mo.
Through the hammer’s spiritual essence, he witnessed its fall from the heavens as a meteorite, landing in a primordial era.
Its first owner was an ordinary tribal blacksmith who treated it as nothing more than a strange, unbreakable rock—used to forge farming tools and weapons.
“No one ever forged the Indestructible Meteor Hammer.”
Du Wufeng squinted before declaring, “It was shaped into that miraculous form by the marks left behind by each of its wielders.”
Then, the Divine Artisan chuckled.
“To use an unworked hammer to shape a heaven-born artifact… truly, this is fate for my hammer.”
“Now it will be forged.”
Li Mo inhaled the scorching flames and raised the Unworked Hammer.
A storm of fire and stardust erupted.
As Li Mo hammered, Du Wufeng offered guidance at every intricate step, ensuring the process remained flawless despite Li Mo not yet being a Divine Artisan.
But moments later, Du Wufeng’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull.
“Li Mo, isn’t this just the hammerhead?”
“Exactly.”
“Huh?”
Du Wufeng fell into deep contemplation, wondering if his instructions had gone awry.
Even an apprentice wouldn’t forge a hammer without a handle—let alone a Divine Artisan.
Sss—
Just then, a sharp, sizzling sound pierced the air.
“This is…”
It resembled quenching, yet not quite…
“Are you planning to use that fire poker as the handle?” Elder Hanhe was utterly baffled. He turned to Du Wufeng uncertainly.
“Divine Artisan, this can’t be right, can it?”
“Of course it’s not!”
Du Wufeng nearly lost his composure.
He could tell the fire poker was no ordinary item, but simply slapping the two together?
This was forging, not welding!
Li Mo should have known better—yet he persisted.
As the unremarkable fire poker met the hammer treasure, a blinding light erupted, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.
Two vastly different divine weapons, like incompatible medicinal ingredients, could trigger an explosion. Wouldn’t that—
“The timing is perfect.”
Li Mo retrieved an embryonic vessel and draped it over the two artifacts.
The vessel forged an otherwise impossible connection between the hammer and the poker. With another strike, he synchronized their resonance.
“Hm?”
The moment the hammer fell, Du Wufeng’s drooping head snapped up.
From the heart of the raging flames, a single spark leaped forth, emitting a primordial cry of rebirth.
A crimson-black radiance, carrying the might to pierce the heavens, shot through the mountain walls and into the sky, announcing its overwhelming presence.
Every blacksmith present fell into stunned silence.
“This… seems more than just a divine weapon.”
Elder Hanhe murmured, his mind reeling.
“A Quasi-Dao Artifact?”
. As long as he maintains the villain image and follows the plot to the grand finale, he can obtain generous rewards and return to the real world. So Gu Chen'an entered the role and began to act as a scumbag villain, but who would have expected that the female leads could hear his inner thoughts. Miss Su from the Su family was shocked: "I originally thought Gu Chen'an was a scumbag, but I didn't expect he turned out to be a gentleman! What? You said I have to call off the engagement? I definitely won't, I'll piss you off!" Bai Yuan Tian was dumbfounded: "Young Master Gu is usually unreasonable and a complete brat, but he actually calls me little sweetie in his heart? What, Young Master Gu even said he likes me?" As the female leads' images collapsed more and more, the plot also collapsed with it. Gu Chen'an looked at all this chaos. "Ladies, don't aggro me, if you keep this up the male lead really will stab me, I still need to survive to the grand finale!"
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.
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?"
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.”
