Yang Jian looked up in confusion, then instantly understood.
“You mean...”
“I think I remember that kid’s name—Lingjizi, right? Quick-witted, much sharper than his master.”
“Lingjizi... who was his master?”
“Jingfan.”
Yang Jian sucked in a sharp breath. “Jingfan? The one who descended to the mortal world to spread goodwill and teach the Dao, only to be burned alive by common folk?”
“That’s the one. That stubborn mule ended up completely obliterated.” Lord Lao shook his head. “If it had been me in that wager, I’d have called it off on the spot, but that Jingfan was as obstinate as an ox.”
In the capital of the Sui Dynasty, Daxing City, a young monk carrying a bundle on his back walked out of the temple gate.
“Xuanzang, the journey ahead is long and perilous. Remember the teachings well.”
The monk turned back. “I will, Master.”
“The Emperor said yesterday he wanted to provide you with some ceremonial escort. I declined on your behalf. A man of the cloth needs none of that. Since you are determined to seek the scriptures, set out. If your heart is sincere, Vulture Peak won’t be far.”
“Yes.” The young monk glanced around, then sidestepped the arriving pilgrims and hurried off in one direction.
He believed with all his heart that he would reach the Western Lands and bring back the true scriptures.
Meanwhile, Fang Zhiyi and the others were lost in a sea of yellow sand.
The old fox Eight-Tails clutched a map he’d picked up from somewhere and mumbled to himself.
Sun Wukong, unable to stand it any longer, flew high into the sky to scout the terrain. When he descended, he shook his head at Fang Zhiyi.
“Sand everywhere, as far as the eye can see. A vast expanse.”
The worst off was Sha Wujing, whose body had visibly withered. Fang Zhiyi had begun to wonder if the fish monster had already turned into dried jerky.
Watching Sha Wujing being carried on the horse, Fang Zhiyi frowned. “Speaking of yellow sand, it reminds me of someone.”
The scripture-seeking party decided to pitch camp on the spot, as if unconcerned about finding their way out. Eight-Tails had bought plenty of dry rations and water at a shop earlier, so they could hold out for a while.
The wind picked up, getting fiercer, so that every time Fang Zhiyi opened his mouth, he got a mouthful of sand.
He gave up talking and focused on peeling off the dead skin from Sha Wujing.
Eight-Tails kept studying the map, while Sun Wukong closed his eyes, feigning sleep.
“Damn it! That bastard tricked me!” Eight-Tails suddenly bellowed, startling the others into staring at him.
“This is a treasure map—not a navigation map! Ugh!”
“Tch.”
Eight-Tails grimaced. “Looks like we went off course... This place is all desert.”
“No kidding,” Sun Wukong said, rolling over and ignoring him.
Sha Wujing’s mouth opened and closed without sound, but Eight-Tails could tell he was cursing.
Only Fang Zhiyi spoke calmly: “We didn’t go off course. Someone wanted us to lose our way.”
Eight-Tails didn’t understand.
He only felt the wind growing fiercer, as if it were swirling specifically around them.
Watching Sun Wukong drift off to sleep, Eight-Tails thought to himself, The Great Sage really lives up to his name, being able to sleep through this.
But complaining was useless. With the sandstorm raging, they couldn’t leave.
So Eight-Tails squeezed in beside Sha Wujing, curled up, and drifted into a haze.
He didn’t know how long passed, but a tiger’s roar jolted him awake. He leaped up and found the sandstorm had stopped.
What terrified him more was that no one else was around—only the half-dead Sha Wujing and the horse. Fang Zhiyi and Sun Wukong were completely gone.
In the distance, a figure was sprinting. Eight-Tails, with sharp eyes, immediately spotted the flash of a crimson cassock.
“Damn! Old Sha! The King’s been captured!”
Sha Wujing groggily opened his eyes, muttered something, tried to stand, then plopped back down.
“You— you... Ugh! Where did the Great Sage go?” Eight-Tails felt utterly lost.
At that moment, Sun Wukong stared coldly at the fierce wind surrounding him.
It seemed to have a will of its own, whipping sand into his face. He couldn’t dodge; his eyes stung and he couldn’t open them. But he kept a firm grip on his golden-banded staff, relying on his ears to pinpoint the enemy’s approach.
Whatever was hiding in the sand, however, didn’t seem intent on attacking him.
Fang Zhiyi, being carried by the tiger demon, jolted so much he wanted to vomit but somehow held it in. After what seemed ages, the tiger demon leaped off a cliff, and when they landed, Fang Zhiyi saw that the base of the cliff hid another world: crumbling walls, ravaged by wind and sand.
Several massive Buddha statues stood carved into the cliffside, silently telling stories of the past. As the tiger demon advanced, they passed through a village long abandoned by humans.
A door creaked open, and Fang Zhiyi was thrown to the ground.
“Great King! I’ve brought the scripture-seeker!”
Fang Zhiyi winced and scrambled to his feet, looking around. This had once been a temple, now ruined. Where the Buddha statue should have been stood a chair, and on it sat a shifty-eyed creature with glowing red eyes fixed on Fang Zhiyi, a grin full of sharp teeth.
On both sides were lesser demons, unlike any they’d faced before. Their faces were cruel and excited, and as Fang Zhiyi scanned them, they ground their teeth, sending a chill down anyone’s spine. Drool mixed with the grinding sound dripped onto the floor.
“So this is the scripture-seeker... Ha! Caught so easily. That Monkey, as I heard, is formidable but brainless. All it took was a formation to trap him.”
It rose and walked toward Fang Zhiyi. “By the time he finds you, there’ll be nothing left but bones.”
“Just as I thought... They can’t act directly, so they raise the difficulty,” Fang Zhiyi said, sitting cross-legged. “After all, a scripture-seeker should die in the trials.”
As he spoke, he stared steadily at a stone Buddha in the corner—a half-head statue, its lone eye fixed on him with pity.
“Done giving your last words?” the Yellow Wind Monster glanced at the tiger demon, who nodded and raised its huge claw to strike.
It was certain this monk would die from that blow.
“Amitabha...” At the sound of this Buddhist invocation, the tiger demon found its claw stopped by the monk’s raised hand. No matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t press down another inch.
Fang Zhiyi blocked the claw with one hand while pressing his palms together with the other. “The proper steps had to be followed. If I hadn’t played along, I’d probably starve to death trying to find your lair by myself.”
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
] [Lone Wolf, No Male Gaze] [Protagonist is pursued early on; extreme protagonist-stans, stay away!] The "Carnival Paradise" descends and slowly devours the real world in the form of a game. By chance, Zhu Yan awakens the talent [Roleplay], becoming one of the first beta players. He thought he could develop safely, but after clearing the first instance, he is branded by humanity as the chief culprit behind the game's spread—a traitorous villain. A villain? Who would ever... become one! He'll be the villain! From then on, Zhu Yan is not only a player but also a lackey for the Carnival Paradise. Between the straight path and the crooked path, he chooses the con. With his left hand, he dons the villain's mantle, staging scenes within instances, infuriating players who decry him as a despicable traitor, all while the game happily promotes him. With his right hand, he joins the non-human organization "Fangcun Mountain," which opposes the Carnival Paradise, transforming into a mysterious player who slaughters game bosses, earning cheers of "Long live the expert!" from fellow players. Gradually, Zhu Yan rises to become an S-rank human player in Fangcun Mountain's archives, while also being the Carnival Paradise's certified top game Boss. But when the final war erupts and both major factions place their hopes in him— Players tag his various aliases: "Experts, this offensive depends on you." The Carnival Paradise's supreme Boss throws an arm around his neck: "Bro, you're the iron, I'm the steel; you can't let me down again!"
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...
