At the forefront stood a row of red-eyed "humans," each gripping an unusually long staff.
The plump lord quickly spotted a familiar face among them—though much thinner, the familiar features were unmistakably those of his son.
"Armstrong Evan Liberty Dan! What are you doing?!"
Nearby, Fang Zhiyi nearly choked on the apple in his mouth. So the kid hadn’t lied—that stone of a name really was that long!
The ghoul merely stared at him with empty eyes.
The lord sensed something amiss. "You—you’re an evil army! Guards! Guards!"
His castle still housed many guards, but at that moment, they were all frozen in fear.
"My lord, look at the sky," one guard stammered.
The lord raised his head. A massive figure circled above, resembling a dragon. A dragon? The lord was stunned. Weren’t such creatures supposed to dwell in the north? And that thing in the sky… was it just a skeleton?
The skeletal dragon let out a hoarse, grating roar, and the undead army below began advancing.
That day, news of the Neke family’s fall reached the royal capital. Rumor had it that their territory was now overrun with undead. The royal family was thrown into chaos, scrambling to convene the Church of Light and the Mage Association for emergency talks—only for more dire news to arrive.
The noble tasked with resisting the orcs had fled the battlefield, allowing the orcs to march unopposed, now dangerously close to the capital.
The gray-haired old king was frantic. "What do we do? A necromancer has appeared, and the orcs are at our gates! What do we do?"
Vivian watched her panicked father with quiet contemplation. So this was what Fang Zhiyi would have done if he hadn’t been imprisoned? Even now, she didn’t see him as a threat—just a pitiful fool who’d do anything for her. She offered her suggestion.
"Recruit the necromancer?" The old king hesitated. "No, no! Necromancers are the most vile of mages—they bring only disaster and ruin!"
Vivian fell silent. Staring at her father, she decided he was unfit for the throne—and her foolish older brother was no better. She resolved to write Fang Zhiyi a letter.
While the necromancer remained inactive, the orcs arrived at the city walls.
The Mage Association, the Royal Knights, and the Church of Light all deployed their forces to hold the line. For now, the high walls kept the orcs at bay.
Fang Zhiyi, meanwhile, watched the battle unfold through his familiar, Little Black.
"So many corpses… what a waste. Oh, now that’s a nice one."
"So they could’ve defended themselves all along, yet they still dragged the original host into helping them. Bunch of scoundrels."
Lily’s father, however, had a stroke of luck. His severe injuries kept him from joining the city’s defense, sparing his life. But an orc raiding party was now charging toward the slums.
The slum-dwellers fled in terror, none daring to resist. Yet the wolf-riders suddenly halted, sensing something amiss.
From the far end of the street came the sound of disciplined marching. The orc leader barked an order, then gaped in shock.
An endless tide of skeletons advanced in perfect formation, wielding broken blades and shields. Behind them shambled mindless zombies. At the center sat a man atop a chair woven from bones, carried aloft by skeletal bearers.
The stench of death—something orcs despised.
"You… what do you want?" the orc leader managed in broken human speech.
Fang Zhiyi waved a hand. "Don’t mind me. Just passing through. But…" He gestured behind him. "You can’t go that way." Not far beyond lay Lily’s home.
Those who hadn’t escaped despaired. One recognized Fang Zhiyi. "You’re Fang Zhiyi! You’re powerful—save us!"
Fang Zhiyi regarded him coldly. "Not interested."
Confused but emboldened, the orcs tested the waters by killing one human. When Fang Zhiyi didn’t react, they began their slaughter.
Yet every corpse was promptly hauled away by his skeletal minions.
The orc leader didn’t protest. He’d spotted the skeletal dragon lurking nearby—his instincts screamed that thing was beyond their ability to fight.
So the orc warband left as swiftly as they’d come, even leaving survivors in their wake.
"We’re saved!" Some wept with joy.
"Bastard! Fang Zhiyi, rot in hell!" A woman screamed, lunging for her husband’s corpse.
"Think you’ve misunderstood something," Fang Zhiyi said flatly. With a flick of his wrist, his bone-chair bearers turned away, while the remaining skeletons marched forward, blades raised.
As screams erupted behind him, Fang Zhiyi felt nothing. They all deserved it.
Passing Lily’s home, he saw her waving through the window—until her mother yanked her inside and slammed the shutters.
Fang Zhiyi sighed.
The orc main force learned of the necromancer’s presence. Though he hadn’t hindered them, their advance stalled out of caution, giving the defenders brief respite. But scouts soon reported the undead army had vanished.
So the war between orcs and humans reignited.
Without the necromancer’s aid, the capital’s defense teetered on collapse—until three archmages sacrificed their lives to unleash a forbidden spell, tipping the scales.
Corpses were buried where they fell; shattered walls were repaired. But this time, neither Vivian nor Rhein claimed glory. Without Fang Zhiyi’s contrast, Vivian was just another princess tending wounded, Rhein merely a foot soldier.
Fang Zhiyi replied to Vivian’s letter, claiming injuries prevented him from helping now—but he’d always be there when needed. Satisfied, Vivian wrote back. Fang Zhiyi’s prompt response reiterated his loyalty. Reading it, she smirked. Fragile necromancer. In her past life, she’d found his notebook detailing every necromantic spell and its toll. All necromancers were frail. And to unleash an undead apocalypse? That cost one’s life.
As the fires of war dimmed, refugees returned home.
Yet in the Mage Association, debates raged about that vile necromancer. Scouts reported his territory now radiated such death that even sunlight refused to touch it.
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."
or! A blessing for those who struggle with love, a guidebook for dating novices. Quickly match with your dream goddess! Complete walkthroughs earn rewards, and perfect walkthroughs unlock limited achievements!】 Shen Yi, an ordinary office worker, accidentally downloads a mini-game called Dating Simulator. The mini-game is simple: randomly search for dating targets, simulate dates, and receive rewards upon successful confession. Rewards include but are not limited to money, attributes, and skills. The higher the evaluation, the better the rewards, with perfect ratings unlocking mysterious achievements. Shen Yi plans to use this mysterious mini-game to continuously pursue targets and improve himself, making his life better and better. ...... However, after several successful walkthroughs, Shen Yi suddenly notices something strange - the targets he previously simulated dating seem to be searching for him in real life?
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.
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.”
