The first round concluded swiftly. Aside from Shen Xiaoxiao, whom Fang Zhiyi had excluded from participating, everyone else took their turn—only to be instantly defeated.
Fang Zhiyi called them over and scolded them one by one.
"Master, may I... take my leave now?" Ren Xuan asked cautiously.
Fang Zhiyi waved him off. "Go on, but remember—no, wait, come back in a month. Sparring, you know."
"A month later?" Ren Xuan tensed. "This sparring business is..." He truly didn’t want to relive the feeling of being under the constant scrutiny of a Nascent Soul expert.
Fang Zhiyi grinned. "I think your suggestion for regular sparring is excellent. From now on, come every month. If you don’t, I’ll come find you."
"But, Master—"
"Scram!" With that single word, the crushing pressure of a Nascent Soul cultivator surged forth. Ren Xuan coughed up blood, clutching his chest as he staggered back.
"Senior Brother!" Shen Wanwan cried out in alarm, rushing forward with the others.
"Quit dawdling. Do you have any idea how busy I am?" Fang Zhiyi’s cheerful expression darkened in an instant.
Not daring to argue, Shen Wanwan and her group slunk away in defeat.
Fang Zhiyi then had his disciples change into matching uniforms. After inspecting them, he nodded in satisfaction.
"Now, it’s time for your second lesson."
"Master, we haven’t even had the first one yet," Jiang Leng pointed out.
Fang Zhiyi shot him a look. "The first lesson was just now—learning how pathetically weak you are."
The disciples fell silent.
"Did you cultivate immortality just to be trampled on by others?"
"No," Jiang Leng shook his head.
"Louder!"
"NO!"
"Good." Fang Zhiyi nodded approvingly. "Understanding your own limitations is a crucial lesson."
Jiang Leng nearly wept. Master, you didn’t have to let us get beaten up just to prove that. We already knew how weak we were.
Another disciple, however, perked up. "Master, does that mean we can become powerful cultivators too?" At those words, all the disciples turned hopeful eyes toward Fang Zhiyi.
Fang Zhiyi paused, then shook his head. "With your talent? Not a chance. The second lesson is about how to make the most of your weakness."
He stood up. "I’ll demonstrate now. Follow me."
Baffled, the disciples trailed behind him. Fang Zhiyi glanced back at them—bruised and battered, though thankfully without internal injuries, despite their opponents holding back.
Meanwhile, the Sect Leader was listening to Shen Wanwan’s report. Upon hearing that his disciple had been injured by Master Qingxu, he immediately prepared to demand an explanation—only for Fang Zhiyi to arrive first, leading a group of disciples.
Before the Sect Leader could react, Fang Zhiyi pointed at his disciples. "Sect Leader! Look at them! My disciples were beaten black and blue in a friendly spar. You must uphold justice for us!"
The Sect Leader’s gaze swept over the group—all bruised except for one young girl. His frown deepened as he glanced at Shen Wanwan.
Fang Zhiyi didn’t give her a chance to speak, instead demanding compensation outright.
"Compensation?" The Sect Leader gaped. Though unfamiliar with the term, he grasped its meaning.
"Ah, Sect Leader, you know how poor Qingxu Peak is. We can’t even afford medicine for these injuries. It breaks my heart as their master." Fang Zhiyi put on a pitiful expression.
The Sect Leader turned to Ren Xuan, who looked indignant—he hadn’t struck hard, nor dared to! And yet, he was the one who’d suffered internal injuries!
"About my second disciple..." the Sect Leader finally remembered.
"Oh heavens! What are we to do? My poor disciples, injured beyond my ability to heal!" Fang Zhiyi wailed, his Nascent Soul-level spiritual energy flaring erratically with his theatrics. He slammed a fist on the table. "This master has failed you!"
The millennia-old ebony table shattered into dust.
The Sect Leader was no fool, nor did he have the patience for Fang Zhiyi’s antics. Who would’ve thought that restoring his foundation would turn Master Qingxu into such a troublemaker—now extorting compensation with sheer seniority and power!
As Fang Zhiyi eyed a nearby vase, the Sect Leader hastily relented.
Once the spirit stones were handed over, Fang Zhiyi straightened up, gave a perfunctory bow, and swaggered out with his disciples in tow.
After they left, Ren Xuan couldn’t hold back. "Master, why let him act so shamelessly?"
The Sect Leader’s face darkened. "What else could I do? His current cultivation..." He paused, eyeing Ren Xuan. "And you—a core disciple, stooping to spar with those worthless outer disciples?"
Ren Xuan wilted under the reprimand. The Sect Leader scoffed. "The compensation will be deducted from your monthly allowance!" With that, he stormed off.
Shen Wanwan bowed apologetically. "I’m sorry, Second Senior Brother."
Ren Xuan forced a smile. "It’s fine." But inwardly, he was bleeding—the Sect Leader had given Fang Zhiyi a hefty sum. How many months would it take to repay that?
Rumors spread across Xuantian Sect that Qingxu Peak had been unusually busy. Yet when curious onlookers spied on them, they saw nothing extraordinary—just basic Foundation Establishment training and lectures from Master Qingxu.
Nothing noteworthy.
If only they’d dared to get closer, they might’ve heard Fang Zhiyi’s actual teachings.
"Forget the rest. What’s a sword cultivator? They pack a punch, sometimes enough to challenge those above their level. So when facing one, protect your vitals."
"Pill refiners? Excellent targets. Why? Because they’re weak. Perfect for greenhorns like you to practice on. Got it?"
A month passed in relative peace. The chores originally assigned to Qingxu Peak’s disciples were redistributed among other outer disciples.
Others occasionally crossed paths with Fang Zhiyi’s followers, now clad in uniforms reportedly designed by Master Qingxu himself—embroidered with the character "Qing." Though stylish, their cultivation remained pitifully low.
Whispers spread: Not even a powerhouse like Master Qingxu could change the fate of these hopeless cases.
Some even considered switching to his tutelage, only to be told he no longer accepted disciples—regardless of talent.
Two months later, Qingxu Peak’s disciples remained unchanged in strength, but their eyes had taken on a wolfish glint.
"Pill refining? Fine. By the rules, half the materials go to me," Lin Zhiyang, the head disciple of the Pill Refining Peak, said dismissively.
The disciple before him nodded. "Understood. I’ll prepare them, then?"
Lin Zhiyang waved him off. Once alone, he smirked. Pill refining is the life—no grueling cultivation, just concocting pills to ascend. And fools keep delivering materials to my doorstep.
Another disciple took the seat across from him.
"Pill refining? Wait six months. Can’t wait? Then scram."
But this one just smiled. "Senior Brother Lin, I’m not here for pills. I’m here to spar."
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.”
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...
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!
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
