"Go to hell!" The Cousin Uncle, who had been inexplicably punched earlier, finally retaliated.
The bald man froze for a moment before fighting back, only to be met with a group assault from the Fang Family.
Zhao Yumei stood her ground, gripping a kitchen knife and occasionally shouting curses: "Aim for his face! Tear it up! How dare a monk like him seduce women!"
But she soon noticed Lin Meilan's anxious expression. "Ah, I almost forgot about you."
She took two steps toward Lin Meilan before realizing her grandson was tugging at her sleeve. Irritated, she snapped, "What? Let go and stand aside!"
Fang Zhiyi obediently released her hand, earning rare praise from Zhao Yumei: "Good boy."
"Zhiyi!" Lin Meilan grew frantic. There was no way she could take Fang Zhiyi with her now. "I’m your mother! Don’t you recognize me?"
Zhao Yumei’s face darkened as she grabbed Lin Meilan by the hair and delivered several sharp slaps. Though age had caught up with her, her brawling skills hadn’t dulled, and years of manual labor had kept her strong.
Lin Meilan staggered from the sudden blows. When she tried to fight back, Fang Zhiyi lunged forward: "Don’t hit my grandma!" He’d been steeling himself to say it, and his shout drew everyone’s attention.
Zhao Yumei froze, a flicker of warmth in her heart. She glared at her two sons. "What? Just gonna stand there while your mother gets hit? Useless brats!"
After all, letting your own mother get beaten was a sure way to become the village laughingstock.
Eldest Uncle and Third Uncle immediately abandoned the bald man and rushed over. Before Lin Meilan could react, Third Uncle kicked her away.
"Mom, are you alright?"
"Hmph! You’d probably prefer I drop dead sooner!" Zhao Yumei spat, then turned and hurled another insult at Lin Meilan before grabbing Fang Zhiyi’s hand and storming off.
The Village Party Secretary quickly stepped in to mediate, and the two sides separated.
"Secretary, you know how it is—I’m his Eldest Uncle. When my brother was away working, Zhiyi always ate at my place," Eldest Uncle began negotiations.
"Big Brother, as if he never ate at our house," Third Aunt retorted sarcastically.
"I’m his mother..." Lin Meilan clutched her face, unwilling to forget her purpose for coming.
The Village Party Secretary rubbed his temples at the chaotic family dispute before finally turning to Fang Zhiyi. "Zhiyi, tell me—what do you want?"
Lin Meilan seized the chance. "Zhiyi, Mom can take you to the city. There are tall buildings, nice schools..."
Fang Zhiyi sneered inwardly. Tall buildings? Schools? How could she even say such things with a straight face?
Zhao Yumei noticed Fang Zhiyi staring intently at Lin Meilan and abruptly released his hand. "You little brat, you wanna leave with that whore of a mother?"
Fang Zhiyi met her gaze and shook his head after a pause. "Grandma, I told you—I’ll stay with you. I’ll take care of you till the end."
Lin Meilan’s eyes burned with panic. Why would this little bastard choose that old hag? Had he forgotten how she’d treated his father?
Even Eldest Uncle grew desperate. "Fang Zhiyi..."
Fang Zhiyi lifted his chin defiantly. "Secretary Uncle, give Dad’s compensation money to Grandma. I’ll live with her."
The Village Party Secretary hesitated. Zhao Yumei was no saint—had she brainwashed the boy?
As the yard buzzed with arguments, Zhao Yumei raised her hand and slammed the kitchen knife into the doorframe. "What? Think this old lady can’t raise this runt?"
The Fang Family fell silent, though schemes churned behind their eyes.
The bald man, bruised and battered, glared hatefully at Fang Zhiyi, who found it utterly baffling.
The Village Party Secretary tried to mediate, but Fang Zhiyi stood firm.
After repeated confirmation, the secretary handed the bank card to Zhao Yumei. She finally smiled, tucking it securely into her clothes before casting a triumphant look around the yard.
The Fang Family dispersed, each lost in calculations. Lin Meilan wanted to fight further but feared Zhao Yumei too much. She dragged the bald man away—but she still had tricks up her sleeve.
Once everyone was gone, Fang Zhiyi exhaled in relief.
Then he turned to find Zhao Yumei staring straight at him.
Fang Zhiyi grinned. "Grandma, I’m hungry."
Zhao Yumei suddenly pinched his cheek. "Go clean up. I’ll take you to town for food."
Fang Zhiyi nodded, but the moment he stepped inside, his expression darkened.
"You gave all the money to your grandma. Aren’t you afraid she’ll spend it all?" Little Hei asked, surprised by Fang Zhiyi’s decision.
Fang Zhiyi changed clothes. "How much could she spend? Besides, money isn’t the issue. The issue is... surviving." He glanced down at his frail body. "This is your fault for being useless."
Little Hei puffed up to argue but ultimately stayed silent.
Zhao Yumei, thrilled with her newfound wealth, remained frugal. She took Fang Zhiyi by bus to town for a bowl of noodles and bought an assortment of household items—pots, pans, dishes—without hesitation, loading them all into Fang Zhiyi’s arms. As they prepared to leave, she suddenly remembered something and told Fang Zhiyi to wait at the station while she dashed off.
Clutching the pile of goods, Fang Zhiyi watched her retreating figure. "Would she really abandon me?" Not that it’d be a problem—he had ways to survive. But before long, Zhao Yumei returned.
Seeing the bankbook in her hand, Fang Zhiyi understood: she wanted the money in her own account for security.
Not that it mattered.
He had no real need for the money anyway. Still, their return to the village laden with bags drew curious stares. But Zhao Yumei’s fearsome reputation kept the villagers at bay, whispering among themselves.
Meanwhile, at Eldest Uncle’s house...
"What’s a half-dead old hag need that much money for?" Eldest Uncle’s wife scrubbed vegetables violently, as if personally wronged. "You’re useless too! Your brother’s dead—you’re the boy’s Eldest Uncle! By rights, he should live with us. But not only did you fail, you got beaten up? Disgraceful!"
Her voice cracked with resentment. "Your mother’s hated me since the day I married you! And now she’s stealing your brother’s compensation! If you won’t go, I’ll confront her!"
Eldest Uncle hesitated before stubbing out his cigarette. "Enough! I’ll go! Tomorrow!"
Yet halfway there the next day, his courage faltered. Fear of his mother was real, but so was his greed for the compensation. After some thought, he detoured toward the village committee office.
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."
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!
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.”
