Fang Zhiyi glanced at it: "Save me some face—how was I supposed to know he'd show up here?"
Li Lei looked aggrieved: "I didn’t dare assume either! If I hadn’t watched your livestreams breaking through dungeons a few times, I wouldn’t have been sure it was you. But that technique—I’m certain only you could pull it off."
"You brat... when did you join?" Fang Zhiyi studied him.
Suddenly, Li Lei’s expression changed. "Master, this isn’t the place to talk."
Fang Zhiyi sensed it too—an overwhelming pressure, as if some colossal creature was watching them.
In the livestream chat:
"What are they saying?"
"Couldn’t hear."
"Sounded like begging for mercy?"
"I get it—Fang-ge deduced he’s Li Lei."
"Could be. Hiding as the first NPC in the opening is an easy way to slip under the radar."
"?? What’s going on with them?"
Then, the unthinkable happened on stream.
"Mas—" Li Lei stared in shock as Fang Zhiyi didn’t even flinch when a sudden ghostly attack came.
Fang Zhiyi raised a finger and hissed, "Shut it. Can’t a man take a break after working this hard?"
Li Lei tried to stop him, but it was too late. Black veins had already begun spreading across Fang Zhiyi’s body—a clear sign the supernatural was consuming him.
"Mas—"
"Shut up. Come find me when you’ve sorted things out," Fang Zhiyi muttered before theatrically wailing, "Ahhh, you’re too strong... I can’t accept this...!"
"Find you?" Li Lei looked utterly lost. No doubt about it—this was his master. The acting was painfully awkward. As Fang Zhiyi was dragged into the void, Li Lei slowly knelt and kowtowed three times.
Both the human and supernatural livestreams went silent.
No one expected the god of slaughter, that violent madman, to die at the hands of some minor ghost.
And what was up with Li Lei? Kowtowing three times?
In the human livestream, viewers from Dragon Nation (China) mourned, while audiences from other countries—especially the U.S.—cheered as if they’d waited years for this moment.
The Dragon Nation’s analyst team was grim-faced. They couldn’t make sense of it, but one thing was clear: Fang Zhiyi had chosen to die. But why?
The Old Minister’s expression darkened before he finally closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
In the supernatural livestream:
"Wait, Fang Zhiyi’s dead?"
"No way! Who’s gonna make those trashy dungeon streams for us now?"
"Demand Fang Zhiyi’s resurrection!"
"Resurrect! Resurrect! Resurrect!"
"Bro above, are you a broken record?"
"You are! You are! You are!"
"Fang Zhiyi’s an idiot. How’d some no-name ghost kill him?"
"You’re the idiot."
"Hey, watch your mouth."
"Sorry, bro, I didn’t mean it—"
"You better explain, or I’ll tear you apart at home."
"Try me!"
Half an hour later:
"Sorry. I shouldn’t have called Fang Zhiyi an idiot."
The supernatural beings grew uneasy.
"Let me check this out. Ghost, you dare drop your address?"
"Come at me! No balls if you don’t!"
Another half hour later:
"Sorry. I have no balls."
Soon, word quietly spread: Fang Zhiyi had appeared in the supernatural world.
Dragon Nation drowned in defeat. Their punishment? Crop failures and minor supernatural incursions.
But then, shocking news broke worldwide:
Li Lei had betrayed the U.S. and joined Dragon Nation!
Even the supernatural rules seemed to allow it.
"Why would you—?" The Old Minister stared at the travel-worn young man.
Li Lei clasped his hands. "A disciple obeys his master."
He refused to say more.
Soon after, he announced his new name: Zhao Chenyang. His first act under this identity? Escorted by the military, he purged the rampaging supernatural threats. Though some citizens still resisted him, many accepted him.
Fang Zhiyi, meanwhile, was baffled. He’d prepared to rampage through the supernatural world again—but instead, he faced an entirely different scene.
"Brother! Brother! We want to see Brother!" A female ghost with disheveled hair and four slender arms waved four signs beneath his building, shrieking. Several identical ghosts joined her.
"Mr. Fang, this is our offer." A well-dressed supernatural being slid forward a crate of ghost coins. "Of course, we’ll still split profits from your scripts 50-50. Please consider it."
Fang Zhiyi realized these beings were different—they’d developed full-blown capitalist minds!
"I’m not opposed... but what about those outside—?"
The supernatural shook his head. "Mr. Fang, those are your fans. We can’t control them. Unless... you’d like us to handle them?" He mimed slitting a throat.
Fang Zhiyi declined. Same old supernatural world—straight to murder.
"About the livestreams—what’s the deal?" Fang Zhiyi suddenly asked.
The supernatural paused, then shook his head. "Trade secret. Can’t disclose."
Fang Zhiyi waved him off. "That’s all the answer I need."
No surprise—this world had monetized the concept, and they’d sought him out because his dungeon designs raked in profits.
"Progress breeds capitalists, whether human or supernatural," Fang Zhiyi mused, gazing at the oppressive sky.
Now, he was part of the supernatural livestreams, even scripting shows for their production company.
"Did you see Fang’s new hit, My Boss Is a Ghost?"
"Ugh, trash! Supernatural Survival is way better."
"Reincarnated to Punish My Toxic Husband is filming soon!"
"Giggle giggle—I’m in it!"
"What’d you play?"
"The janitor who falls off the window!"
"That spiky-handed ghost?"
"Yeah, yeah!"
"Congrats on your one-scene career."
"These streams are so boring. Same old stuff. I’m ditching it for Fang’s new series."
"Same."
"Me too me too me too me too!"
Fang Zhiyi sipped tea on set. Beating up ghosts was routine, but directing them? First time. The production company’s actors couldn’t emote, so they’d begged him to coach.
"You there—come here!" Fang Zhiyi called.
Running over was none other than his fangirl—the four-armed ghost.
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."
rowess are unmatched, commanding a million-strong army! Yet, the Emperor wants to depose him for the sake of a false prince? Hold on, are you throwing me into some female-oriented romance plot? How can I tolerate this? With a grand wave of his hand—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! Slander the Emperor? Very well, all of you shall die! ... The False Prince: "Although I am not the biological son, Father and Mother love me more. The throne should be mine!" The Female Lead: "Qin Xiao, you are the Emperor, and I am a commoner. If you wish to marry me, you must abdicate. Otherwise, you will never have me!" The Empress: "After we divorce, you must give me half the empire!" The Transmigrator Consort: "You worthless Emperor, why should I kneel to you? All men are equal—I advise you to be kind!" The Great General: "The enemy general is my childhood sweetheart. For her sake, I willingly abandon the frontier defenses!" The Retired Emperor: "Although Yu'er was adopted, I prefer him. Qin Xiao, you should abdicate and let him become Emperor!" ... Very well! So this is how you want to play? Facing this twisted world of female-oriented tropes, Qin Xiao grins and raises his hand to unleash—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! I am the Emperor. Why would I bother reasoning with you? Seal the gates! Leave none alive!
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...
