“What are you hiding?” a bandit suddenly shouted, swinging his blade. The villager was cleaved down in a single stroke, and the small trinket in his hand was snatched by the bandits.
“Alas, lay down your butcher’s blade, and you shall become a buddha,” Tang Seng said, pressing his palms together at the sight.
This remark made the bandits laugh.
“Monk, you’ve gone soft in the head from all that chanting,” the Chief sneered, waving a hand casually. “You’re in luck—we’ve got a rule: we don’t kill men of the cloth. Make sure you tell your Buddha how kindly we treated you.”
Just then, a subordinate reported that the search was done—they’d only grabbed some grain and the monk’s horse.
The Chief’s eyes then fell on a few village women. With a look, his men seized them, kicking an old man who tried to shield one of them to the ground.
“Move again, old fool, and you’re dead!”
Tang Seng reached out a hand but ultimately fell silent.
He watched as his horse, the villagers’ belongings, and the women were taken away.
“Ah…”
“Chief! Let’s grab our staffs and fight them!” a middle-aged man yelled. The bandits had come so suddenly that many villagers were unarmed and had suffered heavily.
Living here meant constant vigilance against raiders. Usually, they’d just loot and kill a few to show force—but this time, they’d also taken the village women.
“Fight how? We can’t beat them,” the old village chief said, his face full of despair.
A Buddhist chant rang out.
“Amitabha. Hatred begets hatred. Good sirs, you must set aside your anger and not deepen the feud with the bandits.”
The surviving villagers turned to look at Tang Seng.
One young man rushed forward and grabbed Tang Seng’s sleeve, weeping. “Master, those bandits are brutal! They’ve killed so many of our people—are we just supposed to watch them keep doing evil? They even stole your horse!”
Tang Seng slowly shook his head, his expression sorrowful but stubborn. “The world runs on cause and effect. If you answer violence with violence today, a worse retribution will come tomorrow. Buddha is merciful; only forgiveness can dissolve sin.”
He paused. “As for my horse—being taken today means our bond has run its course.”
The villagers stared at him. Few of them could even read, but his words seemed to make some kind of sense—though none could grasp what kind.
Then a man came running up, panting.
“You bald donkey! So full of compassion—why didn’t you preach all that to the bandits?”
Everyone turned to see Fang Zhiyi.
Tang Seng blinked, then pressed his palms together. “Young benefactor, evil men will meet their match. They are guilty, but you should keep compassion in your heart.”
Fang Zhiyi laughed in fury.
“Why didn’t they just kill you?”
“Well said. Even if they had slain me just now, my heart would not waver. As the Buddha says, if I do not enter hell, who will?”
Fang Zhiyi sneered. “Whoever wants to can—but not me! Listen, if you want to be compassionate, that’s your business. But I don’t let a grudge cool overnight!”
As he spoke, he spun around. The bandits had come back.
“Monk—that robe of yours looks valuable. Hand it over,” the Chief said, naked greed in his eyes. Apparently, one of his men had tipped him off after they left.
Tang Seng faltered. “This robe was gifted to me by the reigning king…”
“Hah! The emperor? He can’t boss us around here,” the Chief scoffed. “I’m not asking, monk.”
Tang Seng forced himself to stay calm, his voice trembling. “This robe carries boundless Buddhist law. You defile it at your peril. To me, it is as precious as my wisdom—a sacred relic for spreading the Dharma and saving all beings.”
The bandits burst into laughter. The Chief snarled, “Enough chatter! Buddhist law, sacred—in my eyes, it’s just something pricey. Hand it over, and you live!”
Tang Seng trembled but clung to the robe. “Amitabha! Cease all evil, practice all good. If you persist in your folly, you will fall into the endless hell and suffer the cycle of rebirth. Lay down your blade, and you may yet become a buddha!”
The bandits paid him no mind and swarmed him. Tang Seng was shoved to the ground but still held tight to a corner of the robe, chanting sutras as if the sound alone would scare them off.
The villagers watched, unsure what to do.
Then a scream made the bandits scrabbling over the robe turn around.
They saw two of their comrades lying dead on the ground, their knives now in the hands of a young man.
“Hey, kid—what do you think you’re doing?” the Chief roared. Someone dared to resist him?
Fang Zhiyi cocked his head. “What am I doing? I’m doing you!”
In one swift motion, two more bandits nearby fell dead, cut down with brutal efficiency. The villagers were stunned—when had Xiao Wuzi become so vicious? Yet as they watched him move, a strange thrill rose in their hearts.
“Get him!” the Chief barked, panicking. He could tell this kid was no ordinary lamb for slaughter—he was an old hand at killing!
If it had been the original owner of this body, he’d have been finished. But Fang Zhiyi was far beyond their league. A few dodges, a few counters—several more bandits dropped, leaving only the Chief and three cronies.
Fang Zhiyi grinned as he advanced.
Then came that grating voice again.
“Young benefactor, killing is the gravest evil! How can you indulge in such bloodlust? These bandits have done wrong, but they should be reformed by Buddha’s grace—karma will take its course. Your slaughter heaps massive sin upon your soul…”
“Shut your mouth, or I’ll cut you down too!” Fang Zhiyi pointed his bloody blade at Tang Seng, who was clutching his precious robe. “You want to talk about karma? Sorry, I follow the Dao! If I don’t kill them today, my own path will be unsettled!”
He looked around. “What are you all waiting for? Afraid now that there are fewer of them? You love getting bullied?”
Hearing this, a young man who’d been itching for action rushed out with a carrying pole. “Everyone, let’s go! Smash these bastards!”
With one brave soul leading, others followed.
Tang Seng tried to stop them, but no one listened anymore.
He could only watch in anguish as these people committed murder before his eyes.
“No wonder Sun Wukong barely visited Tang Seng after becoming a Buddha,” Fang Zhiyi muttered, spitting at the bald monk who sat with eyes closed, legs crossed, and palms pressed together, muttering scriptures. “If I had to think about what this guy did before, I wouldn’t just forgive him—I’d want him dead.”
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
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?!
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.”
