She didn't know what it was, but that toad looked rather disgusting.
"Eat it, trust me," Lin Muran declared confidently.
The Holy Maiden studied his expression, then glanced at the toad again. Thinking of her internal injuries, she ultimately shook her head.
Seeing her hesitation, Lin Muran gritted his teeth. He wanted to force her, but without her, he couldn’t leave this place. He had no choice but to patiently win her favor.
"Don’t be afraid. Close your eyes, I’ll feed you." He moved closer to the Holy Maiden, but just then, he felt a slap strike his face, and the thing in his hand was snatched away.
"Who’s there?"
Fang Zhiyi dangled the toad in one hand while eyeing him coldly. "I heard someone kidnapped the Holy Maiden of the Five Immortals Sect. So it’s you, huh?"
The Holy Maiden looked at him—she didn’t recognize him.
"Who are you?" Lin Muran glared at the man, feeling an inexplicable dislike. Without waiting for an answer, he attacked immediately.
Fang Zhiyi blocked a few strikes, frowning slightly. This kid’s luck was absurdly good—he’d actually managed to master Dugu Yin’s martial arts through sheer trial and error. But he was still far from Fang Zhiyi’s level.
Seizing Lin Muran’s wrist, Fang Zhiyi rendered him immobile. Lin Muran paled—this man could overpower him effortlessly! Just as Fang Zhiyi was about to cripple him, Little Hei suddenly shouted, "Host, no!"
"Huh?"
Before Fang Zhiyi could react, thunder exploded overhead, and a bolt of lightning struck down.
In desperation, Little Hei threw itself into the path of the lightning. The deafening blast left all three present with ringing ears. By the time Fang Zhiyi regained his senses, the snow toad had been snatched from his grip! He turned just in time to see a fleeing figure. He wanted to give chase, but concern for Little Hei made him abandon pursuit.
"Little Hei!"
Little Hei had reverted to its spherical form, floating weakly. After a long pause, it finally spoke.
"Host, this world has no Heavenly Dao. Lin Muran is the favored child of the World’s Will. You can’t kill him—it’ll cost you your life."
Hearing its frail voice, Fang Zhiyi frowned. "Are you alright?"
"I’ll be fine after some rest."
Everything had happened too fast. The Holy Maiden stood frozen, stunned by what she’d just witnessed. This man had blocked heavenly lightning with his bare hands? She couldn’t see Little Hei, so she assumed it was Fang Zhiyi’s own power.
Fang Zhiyi glanced at her—she was undeniably beautiful. "Need me to escort you back?"
The Holy Maiden snapped out of her daze. "Thank you, hero. I can return on my own."
Fang Zhiyi nodded and left without lingering. He had questions for Little Hei.
"Why didn’t you warn me that attacking him would summon lightning?"
The spherical Little Hei replied, "I only just realized it myself. The World’s Will here is much stronger than I anticipated."
Fang Zhiyi sensed it was hiding something.
"What exactly is the World’s Will?" he asked, feigning ignorance.
Little Hei explained, "A world without a Heavenly Dao gives birth to a World’s Will. Unlike the Heavenly Dao, which maintains balance, it lacks sentience. It concentrates the world’s fortune onto one or a few individuals, expanding the world around them."
"Previous worlds you’ve visited also had a World’s Will, but none as strong as this one, so you never noticed."
Fang Zhiyi pondered this. "So, to the World’s Will, everyone except the protagonist is just a side character—no, an NPC."
"More or less. The World’s Will emerges because of people. It doesn’t understand balance or rules."
"What’s the point, then?"
Little Hei reassured him, "Don’t worry, I’m here. As long as we keep suppressing the Son of Fortune’s luck, the World’s Will will weaken. The day his fortune runs dry, this world will return to normal."
Fang Zhiyi suddenly said, "This world is just a novel, isn’t it? The previous ones too."
Little Hei flustered. "Host, what are you talking about?"
Fang Zhiyi fell silent. He felt he’d stumbled upon something monumental.
But when the very-much-alive Mei Ruoxue served him a dish she’d cooked herself, Fang Zhiyi smiled. The last person to cook for him had been Yue Anyao.
He took a bite. Huh. This tasted exactly like Yue Anyao’s cooking.
Beside him, He Wugui smirked in schadenfreude, Lu Zhaoran pretended to study the ceiling, and even Old Lan kept his head down, silently shoveling plain rice into his mouth.
"How does it taste?" Mei Ruoxue asked eagerly.
Fang Zhiyi forced a smile. "Delicious. No wonder your Grandpa He praised it."
"Really?" Mei Ruoxue turned to He Wugui, whose face stiffened. Gritting his teeth, he said, "Yes. Delicious."
Then he reached for the dish with his chopsticks.
"Hey!" Lu Zhaoran glared. "Old man, why are you putting that in my bowl?"
"Your Grandpa Lu loves it too," He Wugui said, dumping more onto Lu Zhaoran’s plate with a "better you than me" attitude.
The meal was an exercise in endurance.
Afterward, Lu Zhaoran approached Fang Zhiyi with news that two old friends wished to retire. Understanding the implication, Fang Zhiyi immediately agreed to bring them in—the martial school’s limited enrollment was due to a shortage of instructors.
After outlining generous terms, Lu Zhaoran hurried off to send word.
At the first graduation ceremony, Fang Zhiyi presided over a simple rite. Each student bowed deeply to him. For the first time, they’d experienced the benefits of systematic training—their skills had improved dramatically. Between Fang Zhiyi’s combat analysis and the guidance of Lu Zhaoran and He Wugui, they could confidently say they could now defeat ten of their former selves.
Fang Zhiyi seized the moment to extend job offers. The Swift Wind Courier Service was understaffed—even the Laughing Buddha’s men had been deployed, but expanding operations left gaps unfilled.
"Those who join Swift Wind will receive a base salary of ten taels monthly, plus delivery commissions and year-end bonuses. Regional managers earn triple pay and a share of Swift Wind Select’s profits. Additionally..."
The terms set the students’ hearts racing. Why did anyone roam the martial world? To eat well and live comfortably. Who wanted to be a penniless hero?
"Alternatively, the Youzhou Martial School has openings for five assistant instructors. The pay isn’t as high, but room and board are covered, and you can continue advanced training."
All but two students—who returned to their sects—chose to stay. Jin Yidao became an assistant instructor, while Jiang Rou eagerly joined Swift Wind.
Surprisingly, Mei Ruoxue also remained, citing, "The teachers all love my cooking."
He Wugui and the others nearly wept at her reasoning.
To outsiders, the Youzhou Martial School was just another sect—one led by the infamous demon Fang Zhiyi. But since it kept a low profile, most ignored it. Those who came looking for trouble were promptly beaten up by the school’s resident old-timers.
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
u Chenyuan transmigrated into a female-oriented novel about a real and fake heiress, becoming the CEO elder brother of both. Unfortunately, the entire Lu family—including himself, the CEO—were mere cannon fodder in the story. Determined to save himself, Lu Chenyuan took action. The spoiled, attention-seeking fake heiress? Thrown into the harsh realities of the working class to learn humility. The love-struck real heiress? Pushed toward academic excellence, so lofty goals would blind her to trivial romances. As for the betrayed, vengeful arranged marriage wife… the plot hadn’t even begun yet. There was still time—if he couldn’t handle her, he could at least avoid her. "CEO Lu, are you avoiding me?" Mo Qingli fixed her gaze on Lu Chenyuan. For the first time, the shrewd and calculating Lu Chenyuan felt a flicker of unease.
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.”
