Fang Zhiyi scoffed: "Though I'd love to see you embarrass yourself, I should remind you—it's impossible under current conditions."
Yet Wen Yan remained undeterred. She rushed home and began experimenting, while the Wen Elderly Couple let her indulge her whims.
"Wood ash... waste oil..."
As Fang Zhiyi watched her stir wood ash into a pot of water, he sighed inwardly. In his previous world, he'd observed Duchess Charlotte's soap-making process—her setup had been far more advanced.
True to his prediction, after hours of labor, Wen Yan ended up with a pot of black, sticky sludge. Fang Zhiyi didn’t bother hiding his mockery, which crushed her spirit. "How did this happen?"
"Where did you dig up this half-baked method? Wood ash lacks sufficient concentration, and temperature control is crucial. How could you manage that here?"
"If you knew, why didn’t you say so earlier?" Wen Yan snapped.
Fang Zhiyi shrugged. "Please. You wouldn’t have listened until you hit a wall."
Wen Yan’s face darkened, and the Wen Elderly Couple’s expressions grew even grimmer.
Realizing her blunder, Wen Yan retreated to bed early, while Fang Zhiyi flew off to spy on the other transmigrator.
Sun Yuwei, radiant and busy tending to her fish, caught his eye. His gaze flicked to her bracelet—in his vision, it emitted a faint blue glow.
The next morning, Wen Yan numbly shouldered her farming tools, despair creeping in. Had she crossed worlds just to toil? Why did Sun Yuwei get everything she wanted?
Fang Zhiyi suddenly asked, "What exactly did you learn in school?"
Wen Yan answered reflexively, "Farming. The teachers gave us experimental plots to cultivate..." Then it hit her. "Right! Scientific farming!" Her eyes darted around as she muttered to herself.
"High-density planting for higher yields," she decided, recalling theoretical knowledge from her teachers.
Fearing she’d actually go through with it, Fang Zhiyi warned, "Given the current social and soil conditions, overcrowding will deplete fertility and invite pests."
Defeated, Wen Yan threw down her tools. "Useless. All of it."
Fang Zhiyi chuckled. "Useless? What you just discarded is incredibly useful."
Picking up the tools, Wen Yan stared blankly, his words echoing: Incredibly useful.
"Got it! Improve the tools!"
Fang Zhiyi stayed silent.
This world was simple—just keep the rival female character from stirring trouble. As for the protagonist, Sun Yuwei could do as she pleased. Avoid her, and all would be fine.
Enthusiastically, Wen Yan began modifying farm tools. The Wen Elderly Couple exchanged uneasy glances. Their daughter had been acting strangely lately—was she possessed?
She’d considered avoiding Sun Yuwei, but the latter loved flaunting her success. After earning money from selling smoked fish, Sun Yuwei bought a donkey cart and deliberately passed through Linshui Village. Wen Yan, sweating in the fields, glared as Sun Yuwei shot her a taunting look.
Children in the cart softly called, "Auntie," but Sun Yuwei cut them off.
"What auntie? Has she ever cared for you? Ignore her. She’s doomed to dig dirt forever."
Hearing this blatant insult, Wen Yan sprang up, ready to retaliate, but Fang Zhiyi intervened: "Hold back. Just hold back."
Remembering her past life’s grievances, Wen Yan clenched her jaw and turned away.
Sun Yuwei rode off triumphantly.
"Xiao Hei, did you send me here to suffer? No physical form, no special abilities?" Fang Zhiyi muttered, unsure where "Xiao Hei" even was. But asking couldn’t hurt.
After a long pause, a dull voice replied, "I can grant you one thing."
"Where?" Fang Zhiyi scanned the area but saw nothing.
"Approach the female protagonist, and everything will become ‘real.’"
Baffled, Fang Zhiyi wondered, What nonsense is this? Am I makeup remover now?
"What’s ‘real’ supposed to mean?"
"Think of it as... a drug that nullifies the protagonist’s halo?" Xiao Hei’s voice faded.
Just then, the clear sky darkened. Thunder rumbled as villagers scurried home. Fang Zhiyi glimpsed something massive dart behind the clouds.
Wen Yan slumped in frustration. Every improvement she envisioned required blacksmithing or carpentry skills she lacked. After hours of effort, she’d only managed a lengthened sickle.
Wen's Father initially dismissed it, but Wen Yan demonstrated its efficiency—harvesting with calculated force. Gradually, his eyes lit up. "You know, this actually saves effort. We’ll use it during harvest."
Heartened by his approval, Wen Yan beamed. For once, she’d done something worthwhile. "It’s not just for harvesting—weeding too!"
"Really?" Wen's Father grinned, examining the long sickle.
"Well?" Wen Yan asked Fang Zhiyi excitedly. "In a few days, Dad will visit the blacksmith to try my designs—a step plow (a V-shaped iron blade attached to a wooden handle and pedal, tripling tilling efficiency) and a seed drill (a funnel-toothed plow that sows and covers seeds in one pass, multiplying planting speed)."
Fang Zhiyi smirked. "Not bad. Your education wasn’t wasted."
Wen Yan flushed. She’d studied these tools at a school exhibition out of curiosity—never imagining they’d prove useful.
Meanwhile, Sun Yuwei smoked more fish, eager to amass capital. Villagers grew suspicious—why could she catch fish effortlessly while others found nothing?
She smirked at their envy. The river was barren; these fish came from her spatial ring. Next, she’d invest in spiced delicacies.
Fang Zhiyi observed from afar, then left.
An idea struck him.
"Rice crisps?" Wen Yan blinked. "What’s that?"
"Think puffed snacks."
Her eyes widened. "Can we make them?" The soap fiasco had shaken her confidence.
Fang Zhiyi scoffed. "Drop the doubt. Are you underestimating this system?"
"...A little."
"Watch your tone!"
"But we barely have rice here..."
"It’s just a name. Wheat works too—and it’s cheaper." Fang Zhiyi had already researched: millet dominated here, but wheat existed. Wen Yan’s first-day noodles were wheat-based.
Under his guidance, Wen Yan gathered broken wheat, ground it into flour, kneaded it with water, and cut the dough into drying cubes.
Seeing all this, the Wen Elderly Couple grew worried once more, even considering seeking someone to take a look. Fortunately, Wen Yan had already learned how to soothe them, temporarily calming the elderly pair.
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.
he colors of other people’s emotions. Light red meant anxiety. Gray meant exhaustion. Orange meant excitement. Yellow... meant repression. At the same time, he could gain unlimited control over one of those colors. Pale cyan: relaxation. Using this ability, he started offering “two-yuan hugs,” spending an afternoon exchanging emotional-color experiences with others. Then came his final female customer of the day— a girl whose emotional color was pure black... —— A week later, Xu Chuan had become skilled at using pale cyan—Relaxation—treating it like a bottle of menthol balm whenever he needed it. That was when he discovered he had unlocked another unlimited emotional color: Purple, the color of fear. So these emotional colors refresh every week? Fine, I take it back—I’ll never call you useless again... —— Much later, after Xu Chuan had accumulated countless emotional abilities, one night, he suddenly found himself inside someone else’s dream. There, he could use the emotional colors he possessed to paint. And in her dream, he painted her a shower of pink shooting stars, spreading across the depths of the night sky...
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!"
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."
