Fang Yunlan's first order of business upon leaving the palace was to find He Yinqing. As always, she led with money, and then naturally steered the conversation toward the Princess. After listening to He Yinqing vent her frustrations at length, Fang Yunlan joined in with a few choice insults before leaving, thoroughly satisfied.
But on her way out, she ran into Wei An, who was rushing over in a hurry. The moment Wei An spotted Fang Yunlan, his face twisted with displeasure.
He had always regarded Fang Zhiyi as a thorn in his side, and heaven knows where he found the nerve.
What Fang Yunlan hadn't expected was that her strategy of driving a wedge between He Yinqing and the Princess worked like a charm, but when it came to Wei An and He Yinqing, it fell flat. After He Yinqing heard Wei An's account of Fang Zhiyi's tyranny and how he was coddling the enemy to keep his own power, she began to distance herself from Fang Yunlan once again.
"Hopeless romantics are so hard to deal with." Fang Yunlan naturally got word through her servants, and she could only sigh.
But in the next moment, her thoughts turned to someone else—the Princess, who had been keeping to herself lately.
Fang Yunlan felt she had absorbed the leadership's playbook: as long as she kept stirring up conflict between them, she could sit back and enjoy the show!
At least, that's what she told herself.
"What? The prairie barbarians have attacked the border again? And they're raiding towns?"
"Fang Zhiyi has submitted a memorial asking for grain and supplies, and for funds to rebuild the city walls—another hefty sum."
"Is he out of his mind? Didn't we just send grain?"
"But the memorial says... the prairie tribes have regrouped their forces, struck multiple defensive lines, and even boasted that they'll cross the border and march straight on the capital." Prince Min hadn't even finished speaking when another minister came rushing in.
"Your Majesty! Local officials from the northern border have submitted a joint memorial. The prairie barbarians are bearing down hard, causing considerable damage—fields destroyed, villages burned, and the common folk suffering terribly!"
"Your Majesty! Censor Zhou has submitted a memorial saying the border is in crisis and that Your Majesty should shift focus to securing the foundations of the Great Jin dynasty... He also said..."
The Emperor's face had turned black as pitch.
"Said what?"
"He also said that if the border is lost, then every civil and military official of our Great Jin will have failed the late Emperor!"
"That scoundrel!" The Emperor was so enraged he hurled another cup to the ground, but he could do nothing about it. Censor Zhou was an incorruptible official—the type who valued his reputation over his life.
The ministers exchanged wary glances, a shadow of unease in their eyes. The tide of opinion at court was quietly shifting, and there were signs of voices beginning to speak up for Fang Zhiyi. That was hardly a good omen.
"Give it! Give it all! Now get out!"
But the border region, described in the memorials as being in dire straits, was a completely different scene.
In the border army, it was common practice to skim from the pay of ordinary soldiers, especially among Han Chinese troops—and even some lower-ranking Jurchen soldiers received the same treatment. Fang Zhiyi conducted a personal review, first making up the shortfall in withheld pay, then raising the allowances for rank-and-file soldiers.
This earned him the deep gratitude of every soldier under his command.
"General, we won't last like this—there's not that much money..." Wang Hui had long since resigned himself to his fate, given that his life was in Fang Zhiyi's hands.
But Fang Zhiyi just laughed: "Of course there's money. As long as we keep squeezing the court, given that Emperor's spineless nature, he'll give us whatever we ask for. If the border army collapses, the ancestral legacy he's so proud of will crumble right in his hands."
"But you can't just bleed the court dry like that!"
"Relax, we also need to do some business on the side."
"Business?"
Fang Zhiyi's gaze drifted toward the prairie: "Tell me, what do they lack?"
"Great General, you mean to..." Wang Hui was taken aback. He'd grown somewhat accustomed to Fang Zhiyi's schemes, but when the idea was laid out, it still startled him. The border general, doing business with the prairie barbarians? And right after beating them soundly?
"You know how weak the Fang family's foundation is in the capital, so it all comes down to you." Fang Zhiyi clapped him on the shoulder with a smile.
Wang Hui looked on the verge of tears.
"Such a big market—it would be a shame not to develop it." Fang Zhiyi didn't care about the objections.
"But the prairie tribes may not want to do business with us," Wang Hui said, making one last desperate attempt.
At that moment, a messenger arrived.
"Great General! Commander Liu says he's made the arrangements—the guests will arrive tomorrow."
"Guests?" Wang Hui looked at Fang Zhiyi in confusion once more.
"Guests. Good guests..." Fang Zhiyi rose to his feet. "You didn't actually think I managed to alienate the entire prairie, did you? The prairie is vast—naturally, there are those willing to talk peace. And if no one is willing, then we simply find someone who is and put them in charge."
Watching Fang Zhiyi's retreating figure, Wang Hui couldn't help but feel he had underestimated the general yet again.
A strange feeling crept over him—perhaps he hadn't backed the wrong horse after all.
As things stood, not even a bird could fly past the border without Fang Zhiyi's approval. Every garrison in the towns along the border was staffed by his loyal men, and local officials had all pledged allegiance to him, helping him hoodwink the court.
In the span of just six months, there had been over a dozen skirmishes at the border, each side trading victories and defeats.
At least, that's how the court saw it.
In reality, hordes of wild horsemen would come thundering in, going through the motions of clashing with the border troops—not a single man killed. They'd snatch a bunch of supplies—jars, clothes, salt, that sort of thing—then ride off. But they didn't come out ahead either, leaving behind plenty of gold, silver, and horses.
Court supplies kept pouring in, and every official tasked with delivering grain would see the border troops in their tattered uniforms and report back with grief-stricken eyes.
Only Wang Hui knew it was all a sham.
General Fang was raking in money from the court on one side and from the prairie tribes on the other! To prop up the pro-peace faction among the prairie tribes, he had even sent Fatty Liu and his men into the grasslands to assassinate the former leader of the tribal alliance!
No one knew where Fang Zhiyi got his intelligence, but word spread that he could divine the future. This only deepened the awe and admiration the troops held for him.
As Fang Zhiyi's demands grew, the court's finances tightened. The Emperor, who loved to put on airs, spent his days with a worried frown and didn't even have the mood to chat with He Yinqing anymore. That, in turn, accelerated the romance between He Yinqing and Wei An. And of course, Prince Min, the love-struck lackey, kept worshiping her from afar.
"Damn him! I'm convinced he's coddling the enemy to hold himself up as indispensable!" Finally, the Emperor couldn't take it anymore.
But this time, his outburst was met not with a chorus of agreement, but with silence.
Some officials had already secretly switched sides, and the rest knew that Fang Zhiyi's army was now too strong for comfort. If he was pushed too far and turned his troops on the capital, what then?
Better to protect one's own neck than to curry favor with the Emperor.
The court had indeed sent people out to "share" Fang Zhiyi's burden, but none of them were ever heard from again.
The entire border army had become shrouded in a fog.
No one was stupid—everyone knew exactly what was going on.
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."
orn and Humiliation】【Forced Love】 In his past life, Lin Ran was betrayed and murdered by his girlfriend and family, while the yandere female aristocrat, who had treated him as a mere plaything, avenged him by doing in his enemies. Upon seeing the yandere female aristocrat lying in the same coffin, ready to die with him, Lin Ran realized how profoundly mistaken he had been. Reborn, he abandoned the fickle campus beauty and wholeheartedly embraced the yandere female aristocrat's arms. "Ran! If I dig out your eyes and turn them into a specimen, you'll only be able to look at me!" Lin Ran: "Darling, kiss me!" "Ran! If I break your legs, you won't run away anymore, right?" Lin Ran: "Love, hold me tight!" "Ran! If..." Lin Ran: "Hush now! Love me more!" Luo Yao: ... Seeing his scumbag dad: "Take him out!" Seeing his stepmother: "Get rid of her!" Seeing his brother: "Eliminate him!" Seeing his white moonlight: "Send that to Southeast Asia!"
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.”
