After a long pause, the old man suddenly raised his hand and pointed at Fang Zhiyi, his mouth opening to reveal a pitch-black cavity, yet no sound emerged.
The eerie scene reminded Fang Zhiyi of his time as a ghost.
But now was not the moment for nostalgia.
Just as he was about to speak, the old man uttered his first syllable: "Retu—"
Suddenly, Little Hei began trembling violently. Its originally round body shot forward at an astonishing speed.
Little Hei moved like lightning, closing the distance to the old man in an instant. Then, something jaw-dropping happened—Little Hei, like a mass of black sludge, lunged at the old man and smeared itself tightly over his body.
The sight was utterly bizarre, but what followed was even more shocking. As Little Hei clung to him, the old man's body also started convulsing violently, as if unable to withstand the sudden assault. Gradually, he lost control of his limbs.
Yet, this was not the end. Over time, the old man's body began to melt, much like Little Hei. His skin, muscles, and bones slowly dissolved, merging with Little Hei into a grotesque black mass.
Fang Zhiyi froze, countless speculations flashing through his mind. Finally, he pieced it together—this must be the "world's will" Little Hei had mentioned, devoid of thought, driven only by obsession.
He watched as the black mass gradually vanished, seeping into the ground.
Fang Zhiyi remained calm. He knew Little Hei wouldn’t act without certainty. After a long while, the sky dimmed slightly, the once-bright sunlight softening.
He sensed something shifting in the world, yet everything seemed unchanged.
Students returning from their break greeted him warmly, and Fang Zhiyi nodded in response. He just wondered how long Little Hei would take to digest this time.
The upheaval came seven days later.
The relay stations in Jizhou, Maizhou, and Piaozhou lost contact.
Three waves of scouts were dispatched before the situation was clarified.
The Five Mountains Sword Sect, Lingshan Sect, Kunlun Sect, and others, convinced that Fang Zhiyi’s recent actions signaled ambitions to dominate the martial world, formed the "Demon-Slaying Alliance." The three neighboring provinces became their first targets.
No one knew what demands they made, but the martial factions in those regions joined the alliance. Tensions escalated, and they even mimicked Fang Zhiyi by launching their own "Martial World Gazette," listing his alleged crimes—most of which were outright slander.
Soon after, the master of the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion was assassinated, with evidence pointing to the Hidden Sword Manor. The two factions now stood on the brink of war, preoccupied with their own conflicts.
Even Fang Zhiyi, as the school’s headmaster, faced two assassination attempts. But the assassins’ skills were laughably poor—he swatted them dead with ease.
Frustrated, Fang Zhiyi considered consulting Little Hei for intel, but he had no idea where it was. He dismissed the thought—this useless system had never been of much help anyway.
He decided to handle things personally. But the moment he left Youzhou, Old Lan sent word: the young mistress had been attacked!
Fang Zhiyi rushed back. Mei Ruoxue was barely breathing, her condition critical. Old Lan identified the poison as a rare and potent toxin, one even the Ghost Doctor found difficult to treat—though he could stabilize her for now.
Seeing Mei Ruoxue’s pale, unconscious form, Fang Zhiyi’s fury ignited. It had been years since he’d felt such rage. Deep down, he sensed the situation was spiraling into something stranger.
In Jizhou, the leaders of the Whale Gate gathered in their former relay station, now under their control, discussing how to maximize their gains. Suddenly, one of their subordinates was hurled into the hall.
As the bloodied man collapsed, the elders rose in alarm. When they saw the intruder, fear flashed in their eyes.
"Fang Zhiyi!"
Fang Zhiyi glanced around. "Last time I was here, this place was a dump. Seems you’ve prospered."
The Whale Gate’s leader growled, "Don’t think you’re invincible! We’re no pushovers! Attack!"
Fang Zhiyi blinked, then laughed and clapped. "I’ve seen many who don’t give others a chance to explain. But refusing to explain yourself? That’s a first."
That night, the Whale Gate was annihilated—down to the last man. Rumor had it even the eggs in the kitchen were smashed.
The news spread like wildfire across the martial world, bypassing the Martial World Gazette entirely.
Fang Zhiyi made no effort to hide his actions. His name resurfaced in whispers, and people began recalling his past.
Maizhou, Piaozhou… Wherever Fang Zhiyi went, death followed. He cared little about the assassination attempts or his lost business, but he was determined to find who poisoned Mei Ruoxue—and the antidote.
Yet, every captive swore ignorance.
As he left Piaozhou, a coalition of hundreds blocked his path.
Fang Zhiyi wasn’t surprised. They’d finally reacted.
The crowd parted, and an elderly man with youthful features stepped forward.
"Young friend, isn’t this excessive?"
Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "Not at all. The martial world runs on vengeance."
The old man nodded. "Well said. As the Lingshan Ancestor, I, too, have a right to vengeance."
Fang Zhiyi didn’t reply, his gaze icy.
The battle lasted half an hour. Fang Zhiyi looked down at the hole in his abdomen, then retracted his right hand. The Lingshan Ancestor collapsed, his throat crushed.
"Fair," Fang Zhiyi sneered at the encircling disciples. "Care to join him?"
"Charge!" someone shouted. The mob surged forward, knowing even Fang Zhiyi could be worn down.
Then, chaos erupted at their rear. Fang Zhiyi squinted—familiar faces emerged.
The martial school’s teachers had arrived. He Wugui, Lu Zhaoran, Old Lan, and others poured in, turning Fang Zhiyi’s personal vendetta into a full-scale brawl. Though they stabilized the situation, the odds were still grim.
The stalemate broke when reinforcements tipped the scales—the Demon Sect had joined, fighting for Fang Zhiyi.
After a day and night, Fang Zhiyi’s side prevailed, but at a cost. Nearly all were wounded, several critically—including Fang Zhiyi, who’d nearly met his end against three top-tier masters.
Late that night, a shadow slipped into Fang Zhiyi’s room.
Gazing at the unconscious figure on the bed, the intruder rubbed his hands and sighed. A poisoned dagger gleamed in his grip.
As the blade neared Fang Zhiyi’s throat, a hand seized his wrist. Startled, he turned—Lu Zhaoran’s face loomed close.
"Fang Zhiyi was right. Someone really does want him dead."
Lu Zhaoran’s injuries were minor. Before passing out, Fang Zhiyi had whispered a warning, prompting him to lie in wait.
The intruder, startled and panicked, tried to flee but was seized at the entrance. The current Left and Right Envoys of the Demon Sect were stationed there, and the Left Envoy flashed a chilling grin.
Two days later, a carriage was intercepted at a mountain pass.
Fang Zhiyi emerged from the crowd, coughing. "Laughing Maitreya, show yourself."
The Demon Sect’s interrogation methods were ruthless, and the assassin eventually broke, revealing the mastermind. No one could have guessed that all clues pointed to Laughing Maitreya!
The obese figure slowly descended from the carriage, forcing a strained smile.
"Heh, outplayed this time."
d intelligence to keep the plot moving, and sometimes even the protagonists are forced into absurdly dumb decisions. Why does the A-list celebrity heroine in urban romance novels ditch the top-tier movie star and become a lovestruck fool for a pockmarked male lead? Why do the leads in historical tragedy novels keep dancing between love and death, only for the blind healer to end up suffering the most? And Gu Wei never expected that after finally landing a villain role to stir up trouble, she’d pick the wrong gender! No choice now—she’ll just have to crush the protagonists as a girl!
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."
e, Immortal Body, Transmigration, System, Progression Fantasy, Academy Setting, Third-Person Perspective. Alternate Title: Transmigrating into a High Martial World and Reading Live Comments. Bad news: I transmigrated. This is a terrifying high-martial world, and my original, pathetically weak body fell into a coma and never woke up. Good news: I got a Popularity Points system upon arrival. I can see live comments and even create an unkillable alternate identity. Starting out, the alternate identity has all stats at 1. The system tells me that to grow stronger, I must participate in the plot, gain popularity points to allocate stats and grow stronger, and ultimately awaken my original body. And so, carrying my original body on my back, I officially entered Huaqing Academy, where the story's protagonist resides. From that moment on, Chen Guan kicked the original plot to pieces. Live Comments: [Doesn't anyone find this mysterious coffin guy creepy? He can summon indescribable grey misty hands.] [Is this guy a hero or a villain? What kind of onion became a spirit?] [By the way, does anyone know who's in the coffin? Shouldn't the debt for saving his life be repaid by now?] [According to unofficial histories, the person in the coffin was Chen Guan's first love. Their love was once passionate and earth-shattering, but they were separated by life and death due to worldly circumstances. What a star-crossed pair.] ... Years later, the world knew of a demon god born from a coffin, shrouded in grey mist, impossible to gaze upon directly. His foremost divine emissary often wielded a scythe, reaping lives like the god of death. As war approached, facing former friends and a boundless sea of enemies, Chen Guan merely raised his scythe. "Would you like to dance as well?"
