Huang Wenhao looked at his drunken father with initial surprise, but then it dawned on him—this must be because of what his mother had done back then, something that had driven his father to this state!
He helped Huang Minhao back to his room to rest. Huang Minhao kept muttering drunken nonsense, and seeing this scene, Huang Wenhao didn’t bring up the matter of the money.
So it wasn’t until the next morning that he finally approached Huang Minhao for the cash.
Huang Minhao froze. Money? Then he remembered—yesterday, he’d had some, but he’d gone out drinking, run into a creditor, and handed over whatever was left. There was nothing left now.
But looking at his son, he simply said he’d invested the money in a business venture and promised to pay up in a couple of days.
"I’m sorry, son. It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for your mother back then..." Huang Minhao’s voice cracked with emotion.
Seeing this, Huang Wenhao quickly changed the subject, comforting his old man instead.
That day, he didn’t hand in the money.
Nor the next.
The school pressed hard, and the teacher came to ask him again. Huang Wenhao kept his head down, silent, thinking to himself: Just wait. When my dad’s business turns a profit, I’ll shove the money in your face!
The delay stretched into a month. The teacher went from quietly asking him to outright calling him out in front of the whole class. All his classmates turned to stare, whispering among themselves. In that moment, Huang Wenhao felt a wave of malice and the sting of their mocking laughter.
Rage flooded his heart.
So he flipped his desk over and stormed out of the classroom, ignoring the shouts behind him.
Back home, Old Man Huang was still sitting there, basking in the sun. Huang Minhao, as usual, was nowhere to be seen.
Huang Wenhao paced the courtyard, biting his lip, alternating between cursing the teacher and his classmates. Just wait—he’d make them regret this! Today was the day that woman sent the child support. Even if his dad’s business money hadn’t come through yet, there’d be enough to cover his dues.
But instead of Huang Minhao, it was the teacher who showed up—and behind her, a few rough-looking men.
Huang Wenhao froze, then fury surged through him. "You came to my house to collect a school uniform fee?" he spat, his tone sharp.
The teacher looked at him with a complicated expression. The next second, a burly man stepped forward and grabbed him by the collar. "So you’re the little brat who flipped a desk and hurt my daughter?"
Huang Wenhao’s mind went blank. A flash of memory—the moment he’d overturned the desk. The girl in front of him, with her pigtails, who’d once asked him for help with a problem.
Could it be...?
Before he could think further, the man slapped him hard across the face—once, twice. Old Man Huang jerked to his feet, but true to form, he just stood there, watching. Nothing more.
Huang Wenhao’s face went numb. Thankfully, the teacher quickly intervened. "Stop! Don’t hit the child. Let’s talk to the parents."
The man clenched his teeth but relented.
Fear now consumed Huang Wenhao. His whole body trembled like a frightened quail.
Just then, Huang Minhao returned, humming a tune. It was the day that wretched woman sent the money, so he’d treated himself to a good drink, bought a couple of fine bottles and some snacks, and set aside a little for the month ahead. But as he looked up, he saw the crowd outside his house—neighbors gawking at the scene.
"What’s going on here?" Huang Minhao demanded.
"You’re Wenhao’s father, right?" The teacher quickly stepped between him and the angry parent, not wanting things to escalate. "There are too many people here. Let’s talk inside?"
Huang Minhao glanced around, then nodded.
They all filed into the courtyard, the gate closing behind them.
The burly man glared. "Your son hurt my daughter. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"What?" Huang Minhao looked stunned.
"Your son hurt my girl! Don’t play dumb!"
The teacher hurriedly tried to mediate.
Huang Minhao instinctively looked at Huang Wenhao, who, seeing his father, immediately moved to his side for support. "I didn’t mean to!"
"You still dare talk back?" The man jabbed a finger at him, his three companions glaring at the father and son.
Huang Wenhao shrank back. "Dad..."
Huang Minhao swallowed hard. "What... what do you want?"
"Compensation! And an apology!"
Huang Minhao had no money to give—most of what he’d just received was already spent. Under the teacher’s mediation, he signed an IOU. As the men finally left, Huang Wenhao let out a shaky breath—but then the teacher turned back.
"Also, Huang Wenhao, your behavior today was unacceptable. You’re suspended for a week to reflect."
Huang Wenhao bit his lip, resentment burning in his eyes.
"Dad, I really didn’t know—"
SMACK!
Huang Wenhao clutched his cheek, staring in disbelief at his usually gentle father.
Huang Minhao was breathing heavily, glaring at this troublemaker. Not only was his drinking money gone, but now he had another debt to worry about!
"Don’t call me Dad! You little brat! I send you to school to study, and you cause trouble? You wanna end up like your no-good mother, ruining my life?!"
"I—" Huang Wenhao was speechless.
Huang Minhao reeked of alcohol. As he looked at the boy, memories of that woman flooded his mind. The booze clouded his judgment, and he raised his hand to strike again.
Old Man Huang stood nearby, watching as always, sighing helplessly.
That night, Huang Minhao’s curses echoed through the Huang household.
For the first time, Huang Wenhao felt regret. He wanted to go back—back to that comfortable life in the city. His mother might have been busy, but at least she never let him go hungry. Never hit him.
He made up his mind. He would return to the city.
At dawn, while Huang Minhao still slept, he slipped out the door. Penniless, he walked from memory alone.
Exhausted, he stopped to rest by the roadside—but soon, a motorcycle pulled up beside him. Huang Minhao climbed off, thanked his drinking buddy, then turned a furious glare on Huang Wenhao.
"You’ve got the nerve to run away, huh?!"
Huang Wenhao was dragged back home.
And he learned one more thing: earlier that month, his mother had sent someone to have Huang Minhao sign a document—formally giving up all custody. Huang Minhao hadn’t objected.
When Huang Wenhao saw his father pick up a stick, his legs gave out. He begged Old Man Huang for help, but the old man just sighed and did nothing.
Meanwhile, at the law firm...
Fang Nuan was busy when her assistant approached. "Fang, there’s an elderly couple here to see you. They say... they’re your parents."
Fang Nuan paused, her expression cold. "Tell them to leave. I don’t have parents."
She walked away, heels clicking sharply.
The assistant called after her, "They just want to apologize before they go."
"Tell them it’s unnecessary. They owe me nothing, and I owe them nothing."
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.
ver to a world of cultivation and returned invincible. Modern medicine is child's play compared to elixirs; technological might crumbles before true cultivation. My name is Qin Ning, Earth's sole cultivator!
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!
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...
