Huang Minhao nearly passed out again, while Old Madam Huang, witnessing the scene, cast aside her fear and lunged at Fang Zhaodi like a ghost. Fang Zhaodi couldn’t dodge in time and was knocked down, the two of them grappling fiercely.
Huang Minhao clutched his face, rolling on the ground in agony. Old Man Huang stood frozen, unsure what to do. Old Madam Huang, weakened by age, quickly lost the upper hand and was viciously slapped several times by Fang Zhaodi, who yanked her hair mercilessly.
Finally, Fang Zhaodi saw that familiar fear flicker in her mother-in-law’s eyes again.
She released the handful of hair, stood up, and spat fiercely. "Touch me again, and I’ll kill you!"
Huang Minhao, still cursing her as a "worthless woman," struggled to his feet. His vision blurred from the blood on his face, but he heard his father gasp. Before he could react, something struck his face again, and darkness swallowed him.
Old Man Huang stared at his daughter-in-law, her hair disheveled, gripping a stool with murderous eyes fixed on him. He hastily raised his hands. "Daughter-in-law, I didn’t do anything!"
Fang Zhaodi looked at him, then at the unconscious Huang Minhao, and suddenly laughed—a bitter, broken sound.
So this was all it took? Just fighting back, and they didn’t dare bully her anymore?
She laughed at their cowardice, at how they preyed on the weak. She laughed at her own past misery.
But her laughter sent a chill down the spines of the elderly Huangs. Had they lost one madwoman only to gain another? Did the Fang family have insanity in their blood?
Fang Zhiyi, perched on the wall, leaped down.
Little Hei asked, "You’re really leaving? Aren’t you afraid the Huangs will kill her?"
Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "Impossible. The Huangs are nothing but spineless bullies—a weak-willed old man, a vicious hag, and a cripple. She’s just forgotten how to fight back after decades of oppression. If anything, you should worry about the Huangs."
Fang Zhiyi returned home. The original owner of this body often ran off with his reckless friends for days, so his mother, sitting by the door, only scolded him half-heartedly when she saw him. Fang Zhiyi said nothing, slipping inside.
After rummaging through the house, he sighed in frustration. A doting mother spoiled her son—this body’s former owner had squandered nearly all his parents’ savings!
"No way I’m working a job," Fang Zhiyi muttered after a long pause.
Meanwhile, Huang Minhao glared hatefully at the woman seated nearby. He never imagined his meek punching bag would dare defy him! Was it because of that damned brother of hers?
His mother’s face was swollen like a pig’s head, and his father still acted oblivious. Rage burned in Huang Minhao’s chest.
But he noticed something—his arm wouldn’t lift. Whatever that Fang lunatic had done, his arm had been fine after being reset, but now it ached unbearably if raised past his shoulder.
As Huang Minhao plotted revenge, a searing pain exploded across his back. He shrieked, leaping up, only to find Fang Zhaodi standing before him, fury etched on her face.
"I told you to wash the clothes. Are you deaf?"
"You—!" Huang Minhao’s anger faltered under her gaze, an unfamiliar dread creeping in. "I’m injured."
Fang Zhaodi raised a bamboo switch. "So what? When you beat me half to death, I still cooked and washed for your family!"
"No food until you finish!" she barked, relishing the power.
She turned to her mother-in-law. "What are you staring at? Go cook!"
Old Madam Huang glanced at the switch and shuffled toward the kitchen, muttering under her breath—until the switch lashed her back, drawing a yelp.
"Huang Minhao! Your wife hit me!" she wailed.
Huang Minhao, grudgingly gathering dirty clothes, spun around in outrage. But as he limped toward the door, a blow to his good leg nearly sent him crashing.
"Did I say you could leave? Want to lose that leg too?"
When Fang Zhaodi pulled a chopper from her waistband, Huang Minhao hastily waved his hands. "I—I was just checking! I’ll wash them now!"
Fang Zhaodi turned. Old Madam Huang, thoroughly cowed, slunk into the kitchen without another word.
But as she cooked, she glanced around furtively, then pulled a packet of pale yellow powder from behind the stove. Pouring it into the pot, she hissed, "You little whore, daring to hit my son and me? I’ll poison you!"
Her face twisted with malice.
Half an hour later, the meal was served. Fang Zhaodi sat in the seat her brother once occupied. When Huang Minhao tried to sit beside her, she struck without hesitation. "Get lost!"
This seat belonged to her brother.
"You—" Huang Minhao’s eyes widened, but he quickly checked himself. "Wife, I’m hungry."
"Hungry? No food until the clothes are washed. Understood?"
Her gaze drifted to the empty seat beside her, as if her brother were there. It steadied her. Today felt surreal—no, stranger than a dream.
In her dreams, she’d only ever fled. Never had she imagined ruling over them.
"What would he do…?" As she raised a bite to her mouth, Fang Zhaodi froze. She remembered her brother’s habit—making them eat first. The Huangs surely hated her now. Who knew if Old Madam Huang hadn’t poisoned the food?
She caught Old Madam Huang’s gaze—eager, triumphant, unlike Old Man Huang’s longing stare at the food or Huang Minhao’s mix of resentment and fear.
Thud! Fang Zhaodi slammed her chopsticks down. "Huang Minhao! Come eat!"
Huang Minhao blinked, then hobbled over eagerly, scooping up a bowl. He’d been right! This defiance was just her brother’s influence. Soon, she’d revert, and he’d have her under his thumb again.
But as he lifted the rice to his mouth, Old Madam Huang shrieked, knocking the bowl from his hands. "Son, don’t eat it!"
Huang Minhao frowned. What was wrong with her?
"Heh… Why can’t he eat it?" Fang Zhaodi laughed until tears spilled. She never thought the Huangs would go this far. "Is it because the food’s poisoned?"
"P-poisoned?" The Huang men gaped at Old Madam Huang in disbelief.
u Chenyuan transmigrated into a female-oriented novel about a real and fake heiress, becoming the CEO elder brother of both. Unfortunately, the entire Lu family—including himself, the CEO—were mere cannon fodder in the story. Determined to save himself, Lu Chenyuan took action. The spoiled, attention-seeking fake heiress? Thrown into the harsh realities of the working class to learn humility. The love-struck real heiress? Pushed toward academic excellence, so lofty goals would blind her to trivial romances. As for the betrayed, vengeful arranged marriage wife… the plot hadn’t even begun yet. There was still time—if he couldn’t handle her, he could at least avoid her. "CEO Lu, are you avoiding me?" Mo Qingli fixed her gaze on Lu Chenyuan. For the first time, the shrewd and calculating Lu Chenyuan felt a flicker of unease.
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."
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.
