Having just eaten and drunk his fill, Fang Zhiyi sat up upon hearing this: "How long has it been since we last met? Is she plotting against me?"
The system remained silent.
Fang Zhiyi paced back and forth with his hands behind his back before suddenly turning to look at the system, narrowing his eyes.
Zhong Ling'er, convinced she understood everything, planned to set out the next day for Cloud Sky Palace to expose Fang Zhiyi's issues. She believed that as soon as she revealed Fang Zhiyi had been body-snatched, the elders of Cloud Sky Palace would surely find a way to bring the real Fang Zhiyi back!
But the moment she closed her eyes to sleep, she returned to the day her parents were murdered.
Before dawn the next day, Chu Aotian woke up in pain and saw a graceful figure standing by the window.
"Ling'er?"
Zhong Ling'er turned around, her eyes swollen and red as she looked at Chu Aotian.
"I understand now, I finally understand why he treated me this way."
Chu Aotian was confused.
"What are you talking about? Weren’t you going to Cloudsky Sect today?" He had pinned all his hopes on Zhong Ling'er.
To his surprise, Zhong Ling'er suddenly took a step back and pointed at him. "Chu Aotian! You lied to me!" Having relived a past life's memories, she had pieced together the truth.
Chu Aotian felt a pang of guilt but stubbornly insisted, "What did I do? Ling'er, why would I lie to you?"
"You wanted me to beg Zhiyi to rebuild your tendons and bones, enhance your aptitude, and help you claim the Demon Lord’s throne, didn’t you?" Zhong Ling'er's aura flared. "To make me believe you, you even had someone severely injure you." As the heroine, she had noticed something odd—in the first life, Chu Aotian had hidden his identity as the young master of the demonic cultivators, claiming he was injured by the Demon Lord while stealing treasures. But in this life, even after his identity was exposed, he was still injured. That didn’t add up.
As the heroine, having relived the painful memories of parting with the male lead, Zhong Ling'er finally regained some of her wits. She could see through Chu Aotian’s act—his self-inflicted suffering was all to manipulate her into seeking Fang Zhiyi’s help.
Chu Aotian panicked. Zhong Ling'er gave him a bitter smile. "It’s my fault. All of this is my fault." Muttering to herself, she walked away step by step.
Chu Aotian called after her, even tumbling off the bed in desperation. If Zhong Ling'er left, he would lose all hope!
Meanwhile, the system reported the situation between Zhong Ling'er and Chu Aotian to Fang Zhiyi. Watching his leisurely demeanor, the system couldn’t help but ask, "Host, aren’t you worried? If she still believes you’ve been body-snatched, the mission will be marked as a failure!"
Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "I’m not worried. You’re the one who should be."
"Host, I don’t understand what you mean."
Fang Zhiyi opened his eyes and looked at it. "You don’t? How long do you think you can hide the fact that you grow stronger by leeching off my missions?" He reached out and patted the system’s tiny hands—though his own passed right through them.
"After one mission, you grew hands. Once this mission’s done, you’ll grow legs, won’t you?"
The system flustered. "Host, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I need to rest."
Fang Zhiyi didn’t mind. "Just think carefully. Worst case, I’ll slack off every day."
The system gradually vanished.
Yue Anyao walked in, holding a roasted suckling pig.
"This time, it’ll definitely work!" she encouraged herself silently.
Fang Zhiyi’s smug expression faltered. Maybe he should just let her focus on designing clothes instead.
Since getting together with the supporting female lead, Fang Zhiyi had avoided many idiotic plotlines. The trend of spreading malicious rumors among the cultivation sects had stopped after his forceful intervention.
A hundred years later, thanks to Fang Zhiyi’s deliberate efforts, the mortal world advanced by leaps and bounds. Historical records noted: "Every twenty years, several immortals descend to provide tools and reforms for the people."
Another hundred years passed, and the title of emperor vanished entirely, replaced by an electoral system.
Feeling his cultivation reaching a point where suppression was no longer possible, Fang Zhiyi marveled at the protagonist’s halo—how was he already ready for tribulation? But seeing Yue Anyao’s cultivation level, he reluctantly transferred his own power to her.
Thanks to Fang Zhiyi’s influence, an immortal marketplace emerged in the cultivation world, bustling with disciples who preferred designing clothes, researching cuisine, and inventing gadgets over rigorous cultivation.
Cloud Sky Palace, having gotten an early start, held a significant share of this market, intertwining its interests with many sects—even demonic ones.
"Palace Master! Palace Master! The Blood Demon from the west attacked our merchant convoy! Three outer disciples were severely injured!" Elder Kong rushed in urgently.
Fang Zhiyi, currently admiring flowers with Yue Anyao in his arms, glanced at the elder. "Elder Kong, how many times must I say it? Don’t bring such matters to me."
Elder Kong frowned. "Palace Master, all decision-making authority lies with you. Without your approval, we can’t act decisively."
Fang Zhiyi sighed. "Then don’t tell me. Just spread the word in the immortal marketplace that the Blood Demon attacked our convoy."
Elder Kong was puzzled.
Yue Anyao softly explained, "Most of the marketplace belongs to us, but many other sects—Azurecloud Sect, Poison Immortal Sect, Artifact Refining Sect—also profit from it. If someone attacks our convoy, they won’t stand for it either."
Elder Kong’s eyes lit up, and he hurried off.
Meanwhile, the Blood Demon, having just returned to his lair with spoils, gloated. "These righteous sects are utterly worthless! Indulging in frivolities!" He picked up a magazine and began flipping through it with relish.
"Elder! Trouble!"
The Blood Demon was baffled. "I was just reading! What trouble? Watch your tongue!"
The disciple ignored the reprimand. "Outside! Look outside!"
The Blood Demon, seeing the disciple’s frantic expression, sensed something amiss—then felt dozens of powerful auras at the Integration stage.
His face paled as he teleported outside, only to gasp in shock.
Hundreds of cultivators hovered outside his cave!
"Blood Demon! You dare plunder the treasures of our immortal marketplace and harm righteous disciples? Today, we settle the score!" A middle-aged man in a shirt declared coldly.
The Blood Demon was speechless. Was this really necessary? In the past, even after slaughtering over a dozen righteous disciples, they’d only sought revenge opportunistically. But today’s response—dozens of Integration-stage experts, many from different sects!
A disciple below muttered, "Last time I saw so many mighty figures was during the great war between good and evil."
"Senior Brother, what do we do?"
"Do? We run!"
world slacker. But a genius female disciple just had to get clingy, insisting that he take her as a disciple. Not only that, she was always making advances on him, thoroughly disrupting his peaceful slacker life...
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.”
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."
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.
