Fang Yunhe's first thought was that his father had won money gambling yesterday—but no, when he won, he usually just gave him a few bucks to buy food outside.
"What are you spacing out for? Think I poisoned it?" Fang Zhiyi rapped his knuckles on the table. Fang Yunhe cautiously sat down and started eating the noodles. They tasted surprisingly good.
Silence settled over the living room.
Just as Fang Yunhe was about to finish his meal, Fang Zhiyi suddenly spoke up: "Been thinking—maybe I should quit gambling. My luck's been getting worse. Guess I'm just not cut out for it."
Fang Yunhe froze for a second before mechanically slurping up the last few strands in his bowl. His father had said this before—multiple times—and never meant it.
Then, a hundred-yuan bill landed in front of him.
"Here, take it. Buy whatever you need." Fang Yunhe stared in disbelief. His father had never given him this much money before.
"What? Scared of being late? Hurry up. I’m in the mood to walk you today." Fang Zhiyi felt a pang of discomfort under his son’s gaze.
The two walked out in silence. Watching Fang Yunhe shrink into himself with every step, Fang Zhiyi sighed inwardly.
"Hey, Xiao Hei, be honest—are you some kind of 'dad system'? Why do I keep getting stuck playing parent?"
"Just a coincidence. Really."
"Seriously, if I have to be a dad, can’t I at least be some kind of emperor? Y’know, untouchable, no responsibilities, living in luxury?"
"You think someone like that would need to change anything?"
"Damn."
Only after seeing Fang Yunhe enter the school gates did Fang Zhiyi start wandering aimlessly.
Get a job? Not in this lifetime.
After spending the whole day roaming the city, he finally drifted back toward the school—just in time to see his son being dragged into an alley.
"Fang Yunhe, acting tough today, huh? Couldn’t even let me copy your test answers?" The student sneered. "What, relieved Murong Ke isn’t here?"
"I didn’t—the teacher was watching—"
"Shut up!"
Fang Yunhe braced for the slap, but the pain never came.
When he opened his eyes, Fang Zhiyi’s hand was clamped around the other boy’s wrist.
"Kid, what do you think you’re doing to my son?"
The lackeys froze. Fang Yunhe had a dad? Not that they could be blamed—he always kept to himself, and rumors said he had no parents.
They were used to following Murong Ke around, bullying kids like Fang Yunhe without consequence.
"Tch. Just messing around." The boy tried to yank his hand free, still glaring at Fang Yunhe. Just some poor kid and his broke dad—why should he be scared?
But Fang Zhiyi didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled back Fang Yunhe’s collar, revealing bruises. "You did this too, right?"
"Who says? Let go!" Wang Zihan’s bravado wavered as pain shot through his wrist. The man’s expression was unsettling. Sure, he wasn’t afraid—but what if this guy actually hit him?
To his surprise, Fang Zhiyi released him, then studied him with narrowed eyes.
Disheveled hair, bloodshot eyes, hollow cheeks—he looked like a fugitive.
Fang Zhiyi gestured for them to leave. The group hesitated but finally shuffled off. As Wang Zihan passed Fang Yunhe, he hissed, "You’re dead."
Fang Zhiyi turned to his son. "Still got the money?"
Fang Yunhe nodded. He’d hidden it in his pencil case, too reluctant to spend it.
"Go home. I’ve got things to do." Fang Zhiyi walked off without another word. Fang Yunhe stared after him, stunned. Why had his father been at the school? For him? And he knew about the bruises? For the first time, he felt a flicker of safety.
But then again—maybe it was just a coincidence. And "things to do" probably meant gambling. The thought of facing Wang Zihan tomorrow filled him with dread.
Wang Zihan and his friends had planned to hang out longer, but the encounter killed the mood. They split up early.
Grumbling, Wang Zihan kicked at pebbles—until a glance over his shoulder sent a chill down his spine.
Fang Yunhe’s dad was following him, keeping a casual distance. When their eyes met, the man smiled. It wasn’t reassuring.
Wang Zihan sped up, desperate to get home. Was this really happening? Over a few beatings?
Luckily, his house wasn’t far. Once inside the gated community, he exhaled in relief. Across the street, Fang Yunhe’s father stood watching him with an eerie stare.
Hah. You can’t get in here. This is a high-end neighborhood.
He didn’t know his nightmare was just beginning.
At dinner, Wang Zihan was playing the obedient son when the doorbell rang. His father answered—and there he was. The man wore a baseball cap (where’d he get that?) and locked eyes with Wang Zihan.
"Can I help you?" Wang Zihan’s father asked.
"Plumbing check. Upstairs neighbor reported a leak. Just need to take a look."
Wang Zihan’s dad let him in. Wang Zihan shoveled food into his mouth, stealing glances. The man smirked back.
Dread coiled in his gut.
Fang Zhiyi only inspected the bathroom before leaving with a polite "Sorry for the trouble." As he went, he waved at Wang Zihan—a gesture that made his blood run cold.
Wang Zihan bolted to his room after dinner. On impulse, he peeked out the window.
The man was crouched outside, tools laid out beside him—hammer, wrench, saw. He looked up, grinning.
Wang Zihan yanked the curtains shut.
He’s here for me. Horrific scenarios flooded his mind. Fear consumed him.
Even when his parents asked him to join their evening walk, he refused.
Then, as the house fell quiet—knocking.
Wang Zihan’s stomach dropped.
end. Thus one must continue to cultivate, and become a saint or great emperor, in order to prolong one's life. Chen Xia, however, completely reversed this. Since his transmigration, he has gained immortality, and also a system that awards him with attribute points for every year he lives. Thus between the myriad worlds, the legend of an unparalleled senior appeared. "A gentleman takes revenge; it is never too late even after ten thousand years." "When you were at your peak I yielded, now in your old age I shall trample on you." - Chen Xia
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!
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.
lity and could only live as an ordinary mortal. He only wished to live a peaceful life. Yet he didn't know— The dog he adopted, because it ate his food, became a legendary demon king. The kitchen knife he casually forged became a peerless divine weapon, causing numerous experts to fight desperately for it. The young disciple he took in became an immortal lord that led an era, due to cultivating the techniques Ye Feng taught him. Even the skeletons he looked down on the most were ominous demon kings that suppressed countless worlds. Many years later, looking at the void shattered with a punch, Ye Feng murmured to himself: It turns out the peerless kings were myself all along...
