The members of the Thousand Miles Escort Agency were shocked—this small escort team was entirely composed of martial artists! Though their skills weren’t exceptional, under the guidance of the man seated in the carriage, they managed to hold their ground.
Fang Zhiyi wielded the chain sickle he had seized earlier. Spotting an ambush aimed at Mei Ruoxue, he flicked the weapon like a whip, sending the chain lashing out as if it had a life of its own. The attacker was flung backward.
He glanced at Mei Ruoxue, who was trembling slightly. She turned to meet his gaze, and Fang Zhiyi gave her a faint nod, his eyes filled with encouragement. Pressing her lips together, Mei Ruoxue steeled herself and rejoined the fight.
Aside from Mei Ruoxue, who lacked real combat experience, Jiang Rou and the others had improved significantly under Fang Zhiyi and the two elders’ tutelage. Back and forth, the enemy found no advantage.
The chief escort of Thousand Miles panted heavily, baffled. The men he’d brought should have been enough to overwhelm a second-rate expert, yet these youngsters were proving so troublesome. But the most terrifying one was the man who hadn’t even moved from the carriage.
He realized he might have bitten off more than he could chew.
"Retreat!" he shouted, making the right call.
But Fang Zhiyi moved. Leaping from the carriage, he swiftly caught up to the fleeing chief escort, swatting aside a lackey blocking his path before clamping his fingers around the man’s throat.
"Do you know your mistake?" Fang Zhiyi said, turning his head. Shadows flickered at the roadside as another group of black-clad figures emerged, fully masked from head to toe. At Fang Zhiyi’s signal, they began hunting down the fleeing bandits.
The young fighters gasped for breath, exchanging glances—each bore injuries.
"Hesitation. Either don’t fight, or strike decisively. Haven’t I taught you that?"
"L-Let me go! We can talk this out!" the chief escort pleaded, fear creeping into his voice.
Fang Zhiyi tilted his head. "Talk? What’s there to discuss with highwaymen?"
His grip tightened. The chief escort’s eyes bulged with terror. "Y-You can’t kill me! I’m from the Thousand Miles Escort!"
His words cut off abruptly as Fang Zhiyi released him. The body crumpled to the ground.
"Robbers disguising themselves as escorts? Disgraceful," Fang Zhiyi remarked.
The youths were shaken. They had dreamed of roaming the martial world as righteous heroes, but never imagined they’d have to kill. Mei Ruoxue’s eyes widened, the scene before her leaving a profound impact.
"These men have blood on their hands. Remember what I told you? When business is good, they escort; when it’s bad, they rob. Pathetic."
"In this world, if you don’t kill, others will die by their hands."
A black-clad subordinate reported—the imposters had all been eliminated.
"In this era, a fearsome reputation is just as crucial as skill in the escort business," Fang Zhiyi mused, eyeing the dazed expressions of his students. He sighed. "If a day comes when most conflicts can be resolved without bloodshed, it’ll only be because enough have already died to make it possible."
Psychological preparation was vital. In this world, the martial arts realm was a place where you either killed or were killed. These students had to learn that idealism alone wouldn’t keep them alive.
When the group entered a densely wooded path, they encountered real bandits.
Spotting an unfamiliar banner on the carriage and noticing women among the escort, the outlaws jeered with crude insults as they charged.
The students, now steeled, engaged with greater composure—though Mei Ruoxue still hesitated. But when Jin Yidao took a slash to the arm shielding her, something clicked.
Watching Mei Ruoxue’s now-resolute swordplay, Fang Zhiyi smiled in approval.
After wiping out the bandits, Fang Zhiyi sent them to search the hideout. Two hours later, they returned to the road, leading dozens of women and children. Fury burned in the young heroes’ eyes.
Fang Zhiyi knew what they’d seen. The lesson was nearly complete.
As they neared Luoyang, they were stopped again—this time by men who made no attempt to hide. A banner fluttered beside them: "Swift Blade Sect."
Short on funds, the sect had set up a checkpoint to extort travelers.
Having lived in seclusion and with no social media to spread his fame, Fang Zhiyi was unrecognized.
The elder leading the checkpoint was beaten half to death. A disciple scrambled back for reinforcements, and soon the entire Swift Blade Sect descended upon them. The sect master arrived in a frenzy, brandishing a nine-ringed broadsword.
"Hurt my men? Not even the heavens can save you now!"
The next moment, his blade was knocked aside, and two sharp slaps struck his face.
"Say that again?"
The sect master’s eyes widened. "I said—you hit well!"
Fang Zhiyi nodded, turning to his students. "See? The martial world isn’t just about brute force. Knowing your enemy’s strength is key." Suddenly, he seized the sect master’s other hand. "Feigning weakness to lower their guard, then striking with lime powder or other tricks—many so-called heroes die this way. Never underestimate dirty tactics."
The sect master’s face paled, legs wobbling.
Fang Zhiyi studied him. "I won’t be harsh. You attacked us unprovoked and tried to rob us. Compensation for emotional distress will suffice."
The sect master nearly wept. "We’re broke! The Hidden Sword Manor took our city business. We had no choice! Spare us!"
Fang Zhiyi stroked his chin. "No money, you say?"
The sect master nodded frantically, fully aware of the gulf between them.
"Perfect." Fang Zhiyi’s grin sent a chill down even his allies’ spines.
As the carriage entered the city, Zhao Yang hugged a bundle of weapons, grinning ear to ear, while Jiang Rou carefully tucked away a manual Fang Zhiyi had tossed her, planning to bring it back to the martial school.
"Father… wasn’t that just robbery?" Mei Ruoxue whispered.
Fang Zhiyi spread his hands. "Robbery? That was compensation. Didn’t you see how happy they were?"
The students nodded vigorously. This trip with their headmaster had reshaped their understanding—both of the martial world and of Fang Zhiyi himself.
The Demon Sect’s Left Emissary? Nonsense. Could he possibly be worse than our headmaster?
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
young master of the Shen family—a figure of immense power and wealth beyond measure—and awakened the "Destined Ultimate Villain System"! His starting scenario? Running into his icy fiancée who shows up with a mountain-descending divine doctor to break off their engagement. The divine doctor arrogantly taunts: "What does your Shen family have besides a bit of stinking money? You're not even worthy of tying Qingxue's shoelaces!" Shen Fei just smiled. He completely defied the usual script: "Fine, I agree to break off the engagement. Also, notify the finance department to withdraw all investments from the Su family." Minutes later, with its capital chain severed, the Su Group teetered on the brink of bankruptcy! The once aloof and proud ice queen CEO was thrown into utter panic. That very night, she went to Shen Fei's villa, casting aside all dignity to beg and plead desperately... From then on, in this world teeming with Sons of Destiny, Shen Fei embarked on a path of extreme dimensional suppression! A mountain-descending divine doctor? Peerless medical skills? Shen Fei: "Reporting you for practicing medicine without a license! I'll gladly take your ancient medicinal cauldron and twin sister assassins." The Crooked-Smiling Dragon King? Commanding a hundred thousand soldiers with a single order? Shen Fei: "Illegal assembly and suspected treason! Let a fleet of attack helicopters sanitize the area and teach you what the state apparatus really means!" A reborn tycoon? Knows all the golden opportunities of the next decade? Shen Fei: "A trillion in capital to reverse and pump the stock market, making you blow your margin and jump on the very first day of your rebirth!" What Chosen Ones? What bearers of Heavenly Fortune? In Shen Fei's eyes, they're all just chives (i.e., suckers/marks) waiting to be harvested! Shen Fei: "Sorry, but as the Destined Ultimate Villain, I don't play by the rules of honor. I only play the game of dimensional suppression."
saw a female celebrity tied up and stuffed in the trunk! Little did he know, countless cameras were aimed at him at this moment - this was a new type of reality show. The first randomly selected passerby was caught in less than an hour. But when Xu Moru was selected, things started to take an unexpected turn. "Damn, this isn't how the script goes. This Xu Moru is too bold, he's not following the rules at all." "Crap, is this guy taking it seriously?" "The female celebrity has been scared to tears!"
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.”
