"A reincarnator?" Fang Zhiyi dangled a cigarette from his lips, legs propped up on the desk. "You could've told me sooner."
Little Hei materialized a pair of hands, mimicking Fang Zhiyi's shrug. "How was I supposed to? You sent me to check on your parents."
Fang Zhiyi frowned, then stretched lazily. "No wonder she abandoned her son so decisively—even gave me the house. Whatever..."
"By the way," Fang Zhiyi asked curiously, "does she have a system too?"
Little Hei shook his head. "No. She was reborn purely out of resentment, so the timing was random."
"Fine. Well, it's better this way—otherwise, it'd be too tragic."
"You're an interesting one," Little Hei remarked. "Putting so much effort to join this department and climb the ranks. What's your angle?"
Before Fang Zhiyi could reply—
"Chief!" A young man rushed in. "Headquarters fast-tracked some hotshot investigator and assigned him to you for training."
Fang Zhiyi glanced at him, lips curling. "Great."
A stern-faced young man entered the room, eyeing Fang Zhiyi. "Hello, my name is—"
Fang Zhiyi stood up. "I don’t care what your name is. Just answer one question."
"?"
"Why did you step into the office with your left foot first?"
The young man froze in confusion—then got smacked on the head.
Fang Zhiyi smirked inwardly.
Little Hei suddenly understood. So that’s why!
"Starting today, you can’t arrive later than me or leave earlier. You’ll clean the office, drive when we’re out, and buy my breakfast. On odd days, enter with your right foot first; on even days, left foot."
The young man’s composure shattered. "W-what about Sundays?"
Another smack landed. "Sundays are off!"
Huang Minhao had fully embraced his domestic tyranny—once a wife-beater, now a child-abuser. Huang Wenhao lived in constant terror, never seeing a cent of the child support his mother sent. The abuse twisted him, fueling resentment.
He hated his father—but despised his mother even more.
Because 80% of Huang Minhao’s curses during beatings were her name.
Fang Zhaodi? Ugh, what a trashy name!
During one beating, Huang Wenhao suddenly proposed an idea: he’d make his mother take him back. Huang Minhao flew into a rage, but the boy shielded his head and pleaded, "She’s still my mom—and your wife. She’s loaded!"
Huang Minhao narrowed his eyes, calculating. His raised hand lowered into a pat.
For that moment, father and son reached an agreement.
The next day, they made a grand spectacle. Following Huang Wenhao’s suggestion, they scrawled on a ragged cloth—painting Fang Nuan as the villain who abandoned her family, stole their wealth, and ran off with a lover.
Fang Zhiyi spotted them the moment they entered the city but didn’t intervene.
"Bet the Huang duo has no idea they’re facing a vengeful debt collector," he muttered.
"Master?" Xiao Qi blinked, confused.
Fang Zhiyi kicked him. "Scram! Go tail the suspect—if he gets away, I’ll shave you bald!"
Xiao Qi scurried off obediently, while Fang Zhiyi shadowed the Huangs.
The pair went all out, kneeling outside Fang Nuan’s law firm with their "petition," drawing a swarm of reporters. Fang Nuan emerged, her gaze icy—laced with simmering hatred.
Fang Zhiyi had imagined countless ways to resolve this: ambushes, framed crimes. But Fang Nuan chose the bluntest approach.
She granted interviews, then removed her jacket. Though years had passed, the scars on her body remained as permanent testaments. Calmly, she recounted her past.
The crowd erupted. Those ready to condemn her now turned their fury on the Huangs.
A childhood of favoritism toward sons. Domestic violence. Self-reinvention through late-age education. Founding a firm offering free legal aid to the vulnerable.
Fang Nuan’s narrative was bulletproof.
Ingrate. Abuser. Drunk. Shameless—the labels rained down on the Huangs. Former clients even mobbed them, fists raised, until Fang Nuan intervened.
Realizing their scheme had backfired—and facing a defamation lawsuit—the Huangs fled.
Fang Zhiyi exhaled in relief. His sister had truly broken the cycle. Otherwise, he’d assumed she’d just be another case for the protagonist.
Speaking of which—he hurried off.
"One person’s path changed, but the story’s trajectory won’t," Little Hei mused.
"Oh?" Fang Zhiyi arched a brow.
"Side characters’ fates are often fixed in certain worlds."
As Fang Zhiyi pondered, Xiao Qi returned, shoving a suspect into a car. "Master, you’re amazing! He showed up just like you predicted!"
Studying his disciple, Fang Zhiyi understood.
That night, the Huang household simmered with tension. Huang Minhao gulped cheap liquor, spewing obscenities, while Huang Wenhao cowered in a corner.
Rage boiled over. Huang Minhao reached for a stick—the same one his mother had beaten him with. Now he’d use it on her bastard son. But as he turned, a bottle smashed into his face.
He toppled off his stool. A scrawny figure darted into the kitchen—then charged out with a cleaver, face contorted, snot and tears streaming. "I’ll kill you if you hit me!"
For a split second, Huang Minhao saw her—the woman from his nightmares. Fear paralyzed him. The blade swung down. Instinct made him block, pain jolting him back to reality.
"You little shit!" he roared.
Two figures vaulted over the wall. One lunged forward—Fang Zhiyi’s hand clamped the cleaver mid-air, inches from Huang Minhao’s face.
With a kick, he sent Huang Wenhao flying, then crouched over Huang Minhao.
"F-Fang Zhiyi..." Huang Minhao trembled.
"The one and only. You’re under arrest for severe domestic violence. Officers arrived just in time to prevent a tragedy."
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.
m back to his original world. In the end, he realized he had overthought things. [Hey, why is Shen Manni, the female lead, acting strange? Shouldn't she be fawning over the male lead at this point?] [Zhou Qiaoqiao, are you sick? Weren't you supposed to break off your engagement today?] [Damn it! An Youyi, please do your job as an undercover agent and sell my information to the protagonist, you idiot!] ... At this moment, Xu Mo himself didn't know that these female leads had already heard his inner thoughts. Then they decided not to play by the rules. Xu Mo: Please respect my profession as the big villain!
ive and Ruthless] Before his transmigration, Ye Xuan was playing a game called "Severing Emotions to Attain the Dao." The game's core wasn't about leveling up by fighting monsters, but about conquering various "bad women" with wicked personalities and cold, fickle natures. There was only one method to conquer them: stay unwaveringly by their side, then die at a critical moment, driving them to madness after losing the protagonist. The higher their level of regret, the higher the player's score. To dominate the server, Ye Xuan conquered all the bad women. In the early stages, he showered them with boundless tenderness, only to choose to sacrifice himself for them later, making them weep bitterly and drown in regret. Among them were: Xia Lengyue, the unfaithful immortal wife who chased after powerful men and discarded her husband like trash. Ye Qingcheng, the Demonic Venerable of the Joyous Union Sect, who appeared pure and innocent but was, in reality, promiscuous. Wu Lingxiao, the Empress of the Great Xia Dynasty, who lusted after men and loved maintaining a harem. Bai Qiangu of the Endless Demonic Sect: a bloodthirsty mass murderer. However, when the protagonist transmigrated into the game world, he made a horrifying discovery. Eight hundred years had already passed. The bad women he had conquered had now each become deities and revered ancestors. Faced with the endless stream of toxic women coming for him, Ye Xuan could only rely on his god-tier acting skills to carve a path of survival through this world of treacherous women.
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."
