After several people had died, Fang Zhiyi spotted Squire Ma hiding in the back. He gave a bitter smile—one so chilling it nearly took Squire Ma’s life.
But then Fang Xiuyun stepped forward. Having learned the truth from the Old Troupe Leader, she rushed out.
"Fang! Fang Zhiyi! It’s me! Brother Zhiyi! I’m the baby girl you saved!"
The crowd fell silent at her words. Even Fang Zhiyi, his eyes streaming with bloody tears, turned his attention to her.
Squire Ma’s breathing grew ragged. "No wonder my family has suffered misfortune all these years. You wretched thing still lives!"
Fang Zhiyi’s flowing sleeves suddenly tightened, then lashed forward—but Fang Xiuyun threw herself in front of Squire Ma, arms outstretched. The sleeves froze mid-air. Fang Zhiyi stared blankly at the woman he had saved eighteen years ago, while Squire Ma, still trembling, looked on in shock.
"Brother Zhiyi, the operas say vengeful spirits must turn to goodness. You can’t keep harming people!"
Fang Zhiyi gazed at the woman dressed in stage robes, momentarily lost in thought.
In that instant, Squire Ma seized his chance. Years ago, he had hired bandits to kill a Taoist priest but kept the man’s spiritual tools. Now, the Steward arrived with one of them—a soul-suppressing bell—and hurled it at Fang Zhiyi. The ringing unsettled him, stirring doubt. He didn’t dodge. The bell struck him, but a mere mortal wielding a tool couldn’t subdue a vengeful ghost. It was almost laughable.
What truly troubled him was whether he had been wrong all along.
Then a voice shouted from below: "Evil spirit, cease your violence!" A Young Taoist Priest leaped from the crowd, brandishing his tools as he engaged Fang Zhiyi in combat. Though Fang Zhiyi was no match for him, escape was still possible—until Fang Xiuyun spoke again.
"Let me chant the scriptures for your peaceful passing, Brother Zhiyi. Can’t you let go of your hatred?"
Fang Zhiyi hesitated, giving the priest an opening. In a flash, he was sealed inside a ceramic jar.
Fang Xiuyun remained in Qinghe Town. Her act of protecting Squire Ma moved the aging man, who decided having a daughter might not be so bad. He acknowledged her as his own, renaming her Ma Xiuyun.
Ma Xiuyun became renowned as a great benefactor and a Taoist practitioner, training alongside the Young Taoist Priest. The surrounding villages praised her for "returning kindness for malice" and vanquishing the vengeful ghost. She basked in their admiration, vowing to protect the region’s peace. Years passed, and countless lost souls fell to her hand. She was hailed as a living bodhisattva—some even erected statues in her honor.
As for Fang Zhiyi, he faded away long before. A ghost trapped in confusion, unable to reincarnate or take revenge, sealed in a jar until his existence dwindled into nothingness.
Fang Zhiyi exhaled sharply. "Damn, that felt like watching a movie!"
Little Hei scratched his head. "Since you’re a spirit now, this is how you experience it. Pretty entertaining, right?"
"Entertaining my foot! What kind of monster did the original host even save?"
Little Hei had no reply.
"What’s the current timeline?"
"You’re still sealed. In one day, the Old Troupe Leader will arrive with his performers."
Fang Zhiyi grinned, crimson tears streaking down his cheeks.
"Host, could you not smile like that? It’s creepy."
"You think I want to?"
The next day, just as in the original story, the troupe settled backstage, and the servants accidentally tore the talisman suppressing Fang Zhiyi.
Feeling his freedom return, Fang Zhiyi was ecstatic.
"Little Hei, there aren’t any good people here, right?"
"Host, stay calm!"
"I am calm. Damn it, I had to wait a whole day!"
Onstage, instruments began to play, followed by melodious singing—a birthday tribute.
After adjusting to his spectral form, Fang Zhiyi lunged toward the woman onstage.
Soon, Fang Xiuyun realized she could no longer control her body.
Fang Zhiyi decided to embrace the rules of Chinese horror—after all, opportunities to be a vengeful ghost were rare.
"What use is karma’s ledger fair~"
"When hell’s own ink dissolves to air?"
"White ants gnaw through coins once gold~"
"The Judge’s brush now hooks the soul~"
Fang Zhiyi burst into laughter. "Ahahahaha!"
The audience gaped. How could a woman’s voice suddenly turn into a man’s?
Fang Zhiyi pointed at Squire Ma in the back. "Squire Ma, behold and see~" Slowly, he emerged from Fang Xiuyun’s body, revealing his true form—a blood-soaked opera singer, half his face smeared with stage makeup turned scarlet.
"Do I look familiar, old friend?"
"Host, you’re really nailing this!" Little Hei clapped.
"Back in ancient times, I had nothing better to do than listen to operas. Picked up a few things."
Squire Ma’s eyes bulged, his finger shaking as he pointed. "Y-you! You’re still here! Guards! Guards!"
Some older members of the crowd recognized the ghost.
Chaos erupted.
Fang Zhiyi watched them, smirking, then locked onto his targets. With a flick of his sleeve, one fleeing man clutched his throat and collapsed, his skin mottling blue as he convulsed and died.
Then a second. A third.
Little Hei pointed. "That one in the back! He bullied the original host too!"
Fourth.
"Brother Zhiyi! It’s me!" Fang Xiuyun rushed forward. Clearly, the Old Troupe Leader had told her the truth—about her origins, and why she bore the name Fang.
"I’m the baby girl you saved!"
Fang Zhiyi paused, staring at her.
Squire Ma, already terrified, wheezed and pointed at Fang Xiuyun, too shaken to speak.
Fang Zhiyi didn’t strike him yet. Letting the old man die so easily would be too merciful.
Fang Xiuyun mistook his hesitation for sympathy. Confidently, she stepped between him and Squire Ma, arms spread, resolve firm.
"Brother Zhiyi, the operas say vengeful spirits must turn to goodness. You can’t keep harming people!"
Fang Zhiyi wanted to slap her—but feared dirtying his hand.
Encouraged by his silence, she pressed on. "I’ve already let go of the past. Brother Zhiyi, can’t you do the same?"
Fang Zhiyi glanced down at his translucent form, reminding himself to stay composed. Then he looked up, his smile laced with sorrow.
"Oh? Let go? I traded my life for yours, and now you tell me you’ve ‘let go’?"
The anguish in his voice made the crowd turn to Fang Xiuyun.
She faltered.
Fang Zhiyi pressed on, gesturing to the nearby river.
"Do you remember how cold that water was?"
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.
transmigrates into the role of a villainous rich second-generation kid in an urban fantasy novel, and gets bound to a god-tier choice system. Right at the start, he catches the female lead stealing exam papers! This triggers the villain's choice options! [Choice 1: Pretend you didn't see anything] [Choice 2: Loudly call her out, drawing everyone's attention] [Choice 3: ...] And thus, a twisted villain is born. To avoid getting killed by the protagonist, he has no choice but to take down all the protagonists first. Jiang Che: Nobody understands being twisted better than me!
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."
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.
