The Lingxiao Base was a scene of blood and corpses as far as the eye could see. Qin Weiwei straddled her older sister, slashing her face with a knife while hurling curses. The next moment, her head was struck hard as someone lunged at her, stabbing her body wildly with a blade.
Months later, rumors spread among the survivors.
"Did you hear? That resort area—there was a base there."
"Oh, yeah. It scared the hell out of passing survivors."
"No idea what level of zombies they ran into, but so many died."
"That scene was horrifying."
"They say the worst part wasn’t even that. There were a few madmen there who survived by eating human flesh."
"Ugh... But then again, it’s the apocalypse. People do what they must to live."
"My guess? A Level Two or higher zombie, maybe even one with psychic control."
"Shut up, or you’ll summon one for real."
"Hey, Captain! Look—there’s someone over there."
The captain raised his binoculars and spotted a man driving leisurely toward them. Puzzled, he adjusted the lens upward and saw a flag fluttering behind the vehicle—a crudely drawn banner with a simple sketch of a zombie crossed out with an X.
The captain’s hands trembled.
"Quick! Alert the base leader! The Moving Calamity is here!"
Hearing the name, the soldier froze for a second before bolting away.
Over the past few months, Fang Zhiyi’s name had spread in an eerie fashion. At first, whispers spoke of a powerful superhuman whose mere presence wiped out zombies, allowing people to reclaim their homes. Many dismissed it as a myth, but as time passed, entire regions were indeed found cleared of the undead.
One by one, new bases sprang up.
Fang Zhiyi gradually entered their awareness.
Some tried to capture him, but a base called Dynasty struck first, hoping to recruit the formidable superhuman. That same day, Fang Zhiyi unleashed thousands of zombies from his spatial dimension, obliterating Dynasty Base. Only a handful escaped.
From then on, Fang Zhiyi’s abilities and epithet spread like wildfire.
"The Moving Calamity!"
No one knew how many zombies his spatial dimension held. Rumor had it it could even absorb other superhumans’ attacks.
"Uh… Lord Calamity—no, no—Mr. Fang, what brings you here?" The base leader eyed the man nervously.
Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "Just passing through. Thought I’d leave you a gift."
The base leader blinked in confusion—then a zombie materialized out of thin air.
Panic erupted. The rumors were true! This man wiped out bases on a whim!
Fang Zhiyi sighed. "Relax. It’s limbless."
"I heard Hope Base maintains a fully equipped virology lab. Thought you might find this one useful."
The base leader steadied himself—until Fang Zhiyi’s next words made him tense again.
"It’s a Level Two, but here’s the twist: it eats human food and can speak simple words. Might help with virus suppression."
Fang Zhiyi declined their hospitality and set off alone once more.
Passing by Li Si’s base, he found the man waiting at the gates, inviting him inside. Back when they’d escaped together, Fang Zhiyi had given Li Si a car and supplies before leaving. Li Si had since joined another survivor group, rising to second-in-command.
"Zhiyi, I…" Li Si hesitated, fear flickering in his eyes.
Fang Zhiyi smiled. "Fourth Brother, no need for formalities." To the original host of this body, no one in Lingxiao Base was innocent—except Li Si, a genuinely kind soul who’d never harmed him. That was why he’d been spared.
With a sigh, Li Si led Fang Zhiyi to a squat concrete building.
Inside, three familiar faces awaited: Qin Xue, her face disfigured, sat in a daze; the deranged Qin Weiwei babbled incoherently over the lifeless Lu Jingxiao, whose eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
"I… I couldn’t leave them. Went back and brought them out," Li Si admitted. "I don’t know what they did to you, but… look at them now. Let it go."
Fang Zhiyi said nothing, only asking idly, "Just these three survived?"
Li Si shook his head. "Not sure. Searched the whole base—only found them."
"You’ve worked hard, Fourth Brother." Fang Zhiyi patted his shoulder.
Li Si blinked in surprise as Fang Zhiyi pressed a carton of cigarettes into his hands. "Found these a while back. Saved them for you."
Li Si grinned.
A year later, Hope Base broadcasted a breakthrough to all surviving factions: an antibody had been developed, followed by a viral weapon that weakened mutated zombies.
Humanity launched its counterattack.
As zombie numbers dwindled, Fang Zhiyi became a problem. Everyone knew his spatial dimension held an unknown horde. Wherever he went, bases had no choice but to treat him with deference—no one dared provoke this walking nuke. Eventually, they assigned guards to protect him. If he died, the zombies would flood the land anew.
Fang Zhiyi was at a loss. He’d mastered his power but never planned an exit.
Finally, the Allied Bases’ commander proposed a solution. After negotiations, they settled on the simplest method: deploying hundreds of superhumans to stand guard as Fang Zhiyi released zombies one by one—each immediately slaughtered.
The operation lasted two months, stunning the world once more.
With the last zombie’s demise, Fang Zhiyi felt his spatial dimension shrinking. He hastily dumped all remaining supplies as superhuman abilities worldwide began fading.
Their powers peeled away, coalescing into glowing orbs that drifted skyward.
Little Hei suddenly shot up, swelling to hundreds of times his size. Like an overfed koi in a pond, he circled greedily, devouring every orb.
Fang Zhiyi watched, amused. The creature was getting ambitious.
Human society inched toward normalcy. The half-century-long apocalypse had ended—only for internal wars to erupt. The enemy was no longer zombies, but each other.
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."
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.”
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?!
