Inside the Black Tiger Stronghold, several leaders were drinking and cursing about their recent poor earnings.
"That Fang Zhiyi actually assigned armed soldiers to escort the horse caravans! Our brothers didn’t get a single advantage."
"Boss, if this goes on, we’ll starve to death. Baldhead is done for, but these soldiers are really hard to deal with."
The boss viciously threw down the bone in his hand: "No matter how tough they are, they still can’t breach our Black Tiger Stronghold! We’ll catch them off guard... Besides, Marshal Luo sent me a letter..."
"Boss!" A lackey rushed in, panting heavily.
"What’s the panic?" The boss was in the middle of posturing and looked displeased.
"Fire! Fire!"
"What fire?" The leaders froze.
"The soldiers set the mountain on fire!"
"What???"
Cao Wenjie was both terrified and awed by the marshal before him. Proud of his cunning, he had considered bribing the bandits’ inner circle, even poisoning them—but he never expected the simplest, most brutal solution: setting the mountain ablaze.
The Black Tiger Stronghold sat atop a steep mountain, surrounded by dense forests. Now, in autumn, the dry foliage made it the perfect tinder. With the marshal’s move, the stronghold was bound to panic.
"Zhao Dezhu, make sure the firebreaks are checked." Fang Zhiyi patted his shoulder. Zhao Dezhu nodded in acknowledgment. Earlier, the marshal had ordered men to dig a ring of "trenches" around the area. At first, they thought it was for combat—only to learn it was a firebreak. Though they didn’t understand, the marshal’s orders were to be followed without question.
"After all this training, don’t screw up at the critical moment! Cao Wenjie! Follow me!" Fang Zhiyi called out, then added to Zhao Dezhu, "The bandit leader will be publicly executed by firing squad. The rest will be handed over to the judiciary for sentencing. If possible, put them to hard labor—free labor isn’t easy to come by these days."
Zhao Dezhu nodded.
Cao Wenjie was stunned once again by Fang Zhiyi. He couldn’t fathom the marshal’s thoughts—first, they were here to suppress bandits, then suddenly they took a detour to grave-robbing!
Fang Zhiyi stood before a massive tomb, eyes closed in waiting. Suddenly, gunfire and cannon blasts erupted from the west—the mountain fire must have forced the bandits out, clashing with the troops.
"Blow it!" Fang Zhiyi’s eyes snapped open.
Without hesitation, Cao Wenjie lit the fuse he had been holding.
News of Fang Zhiyi’s eradication of the Black Tiger Stronghold spread throughout Anning, earning widespread praise. Under his governance, the region flourished in peace, and the elimination of banditry boosted morale.
Only the finance director grumbled as he watched a hefty sum vanish under Fang Zhiyi’s spending spree. Fang Zhiyi pretended not to hear—he was short on funds, having poured much into improving livelihoods. Now that everything else was progressing, equipment couldn’t lag behind, so he splurged on purchasing blueprints from overseas at high prices.
Finally, he found time to visit his unlucky son. To his surprise, though Fang Yaozu’s face bore bruises, his body looked much sturdier. Yet, at the sight of his father, Fang Yaozu instinctively lowered his head.
"Wang Biao."
Wang Biao hurried over. "Marshal, another lecture today?"
"Not today."
Wang Biao sighed in relief. Whenever the marshal lectured on military strategy, he struggled not to doze off. Today, at least, he was spared.
"Today’s an exam."
"What?"
As Fang Zhiyi left the barracks, Fang Yaozu followed.
"Something on your mind?" Fang Zhiyi eyed him.
Fang Yaozu nodded. "I’d like to go home for a couple of days."
Fang Zhiyi studied him, then seemed to recall something and agreed.
The two returned to the city together. Having been confined to the barracks for so long, Fang Yaozu marveled at the changes around him—it felt like only a year, yet everything had transformed.
"Crushed stone roads?" Fang Yaozu stepped on the unfamiliar path, intrigued.
"Why so many students?" A group of children laughed as they passed by. Fang Yaozu stared, then watched as they cheerfully greeted his father, who smiled and waved back.
It felt surreal.
Inside the city, the streets were no longer dirty and chaotic, though slogans adorned the walls:
"Pee in public, lose your privates (no jokes)."
"Think before you litter—you’ll eat what you throw."
"Women’s Skills Training Center, address..."
Fang Yaozu gaped at the newfound cleanliness of Anning. The townsfolk seemed to know his father well. Watching his father’s warm interactions, a pang of guilt struck him.
Suddenly, a kick sent him stumbling. Thanks to his military training, he caught himself and stood straight, facing his father, who had dismounted without him noticing.
Fang Zhiyi pointed at an elderly tofu vendor. "Apologize."
Fang Yaozu froze.
Another kick.
His spirit long tempered, Fang Yaozu bowed and apologized without question—though he had no memory of the old man.
The vendor was flustered. "Marshal, what’s this about? This—this isn’t necessary!"
Fang Zhiyi stopped him. "You deserve it, elder."
That day, instead of heading home, Fang Zhiyi took Fang Yaozu through every street in Anning. The routine never changed: a kick, then forcing him to apologize to strangers.
Fang Yaozu was baffled, but under his father’s authority, he dared not protest.
After the city, they ventured into towns and villages. Fang Yaozu witnessed the prosperity his absence had brought—commoners thriving, many recognizing Fang Zhiyi not with fear, but admiration.
Yet the kicks continued. By the end, he limped, his rebellious spirit flaring in silence.
Finally, they stopped in a golden wheat field. Fang Zhiyi clasped his hands behind his back. "Do you know why I hit you?"
Fang Yaozu glanced at the distant guards and shook his head.
You’re the father—you can beat me if you want.
But then, Little Hei’s tendrils slithered into his mind.
Fang Yaozu’s expression twisted from blankness to agony. Drenched in sweat, his body gave out, and he collapsed to his knees.
Fang Zhiyi raised a hand to stop the approaching guards and looked down. "Now tell me—was I right to consider executing you at the start?"
Tears streaked Fang Yaozu’s face as he lifted his head.
"Father, I was wrong."
Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "Those words aren’t for me, nor are you worthy of saying them to me. But you’re a soldier now. A soldier’s fate is to die in battle. As for the sins you owe—repay them in the next life."
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."
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...
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!
