Today on the arena, in front of the entire city, he had crushed Zhao Ze's throat with his bare hands. Zhao Tianxiong surely wanted to eat his flesh and drink his blood.
If you don't eradicate the roots, the weeds will grow again come spring.
A flicker of cold killing intent flashed in Su Yu's eyes.
But he quickly suppressed it.
For now, he couldn't deal with it.
Zhao Tianxiong was at least a Martial Artist, and the Zhao Clan Martial Arts Academy was deeply entrenched in River City, with a large number of ruthless fighters under his command.
Although Su Yu himself had a thousand points of blood energy, one pair of fists was no match for many hands.
What's more, the Grandmaster Lei Potian was still in River City.
If he went on a killing spree within the city, he would definitely provoke suppression from the military and the Martial Arts Association.
"I'll go to the capital first," Su Yu decided in his mind.
"Once I'm settled and my strength improves further, I'll find a chance to come back and completely eliminate this threat."
Reason always suppressed impulse.
Su Yu closed his eyes.
His breathing gradually steadied.
He slept soundly.
...
At that same time.
In River City's West District.
Within the Zhao family's luxury villa complex, which covered several thousand square meters,
there were no screams,
no sounds of battle,
not even the slightest fluctuation of blood energy.
A night breeze blew past.
The air carried an extremely thick, nauseating smell of blood.
Zhao Tianxiong sat in the genuine leather office chair in his study.
His eyes were wide open, his pupils vacant.
On his neck, there was an extremely thin, almost invisible red line.
His blood had long since dried.
And in the other rooms of the villa,
Zhao's housekeeper, core members, and even the secretly raised assassins,
all remained frozen in the posture of their final moments,
dying silently in despair and utter terror.
At the same time.
In the teacher's apartment building of River City No. 3 High School,
that homeroom teacher, Li Jianguo, who had tried to force Su Yu to sign an indentured contract for one million,
lay on his bed.
His face was twisted, his hands clawing fiercely at his chest, his nails embedded in his own flesh.
His death was exceedingly gruesome.
It was as if, before dying, he had seen something utterly horrifying.
The night remained still.
As if nothing had happened.
...
The next day.
Early morning.
Sunlight filtered through the cracks of the worn-out rental apartment curtains, falling onto Su Yu's face.
Ring ring ring—!
The alarm clock on the bedside went off on time.
Su Yu's eyes snapped open.
There was no trace of the drowsiness of just waking up; in an instant, his gaze returned to absolute clarity and vigilance.
He sat up.
Out of habit, he picked up his phone to check the high-speed train schedules to the capital that day.
But the moment the screen lit up,
several blood-red, bold push notifications from the local River City news website filled the entire screen.
[Breaking News! Massive Fire at Zhao Clan Martial Arts Academy Last Night! No Survivors Among Academy Head Zhao Tianxiong and Dozens of Core Members!]
[According to initial official reports, the fire was caused by a leak in an aging basement energy pipeline.]
[Other News: River City No. 3 High School teacher Li Jianguo died suddenly of a heart attack at home last night.]
Su Yu stared at those lines on the screen.
His fingers paused slightly.
His gaze locked onto the words "no survivors" and "died suddenly of a heart attack."
Within the depths of his eyes, a fierce storm stirred.
A fire?
An energy pipeline leak?
A sudden heart attack?
Who did they think they were fooling!
A cold smile curled at the corner of Su Yu's mouth.
Zhao Tianxiong was a Martial Artist—his blood energy was abundant, his senses acute.
Even if a fire burned down the entire villa, he could have broken through the window and escaped in an instant!
How could he have been burned alive?
And that Li Jianguo, though a homeroom teacher, had definitely practiced martial arts; his blood energy flowed smoothly. How could he have suddenly suffered a heart attack?
A cleanup.
This was an extremely clean, perfectly executed cleanup, leaving no trace behind.
Moreover, the opponent's strength was utterly terrifying.
It must have been at a level of absolute dominance, preventing a high-level Martial Artist like Zhao Tianxiong from even having a chance to escape or call for help, and eliminating him outright.
"Who did this?"
Su Yu's mind raced.
He was alone in River City, with no background or allies.
Who would go so far as to annihilate a local stronghold family for his sake?
Lei Potian? Impossible. The Grandmaster held a revered status and represented the authorities; he would never resort to such assassination tactics.
That left only one possibility.
A figure appeared in Su Yu's mind—a young woman with a ponytail, pure and beautiful.
Lin Xiaoxiao.
That rich young lady who, yesterday on the arena, had charged in front of him like an enraged little leopard, pointing at Zhao Tianxiong's nose and cursing him out.
"So that's how it is..." Su Yu murmured to himself.
He had originally planned to wait until his strength grew and then return to avenge himself.
But unexpectedly,
someone had beaten him to it.
This was a debt of gratitude, and a big one at that.
Su Yu let out a deep breath.
He turned off the phone screen.
He didn't indulge in self-pity, nor did he feel afraid.
If you owe, you owe—just find a chance to repay it later.
He washed up, got dressed.
Grabbed his worn, faded old canvas bag.
Time to go.
...
At the intersection of the old city district.
An extremely flashy, pitch-black heavy armored off-road vehicle sat quietly by the roadside.
Its body reflected a cold, metallic sheen.
The neighbors passing by all kept a wide berth, not daring to even look at it directly.
Su Yu walked up to it.
The rear window rolled down slowly.
Lin Xiaoxiao wore a pair of oversized sunglasses, covering most of her face.
"Get in!"
She waved at Su Yu, her tone as willful and casual as ever.
Su Yu opened the door and climbed inside.
The interior was spacious to the extreme, luxuriously appointed, with even a faint, soothing scent of high-grade incense wafting through the air.
In the driver's seat sat a middle-aged man in a black suit and white gloves.
His aura was extremely restrained.
But relying on his Martial Artist instincts, Su Yu could faintly sense that this driver harbored terrifying blood energy within his body.
Definitely above the Master level!
"Uncle Lin, let's go. Drive to the train station." Lin Xiaoxiao gave the order.
"Very well, Miss."
The off-road vehicle started smoothly, without making a sound.
Just as Su Yu set his canvas bag down at his feet,
Slap.
An ancient book was tossed directly onto his lap by Lin Xiaoxiao.
"Take it."
Lin Xiaoxiao took off her sunglasses and yawned.
There was still a trace of tiredness in the corners of her eyes that hadn't faded.
Su Yu looked down.
His gaze fell on the cover of that ancient book.
Three ancient characters met his eyes.
"Crushing Rock Palm."
The pupils of Su Yu's eyes contracted almost imperceptibly.
This was the Zhao family's inherited martial art!
A Profound-tier, low-grade technique!
Yesterday on the arena, Zhao Ze had used this very style of palm technique in an attempt to kill him.
And now, this extremely precious original manual lay in Su Yu's hands, tossed over casually by Lin Xiaoxiao like some cheap magazine from a roadside stall.
Su Yu raised his head.
He looked at Lin Xiaoxiao's clean, beautiful face, tinged with a hint of sleepiness.
In that moment, he understood completely.
Irrefutable proof.
The Zhao family, and Li Jianguo,
had been casually wiped out last night by the seemingly spoiled, down-to-earth young lady before him.
Not a single chicken or dog left alive.
In his heart, Su Yu gained a deeper understanding of the true power of an elite clan.
"Watching you in the ring yesterday, you didn't even have a decent martial technique—just brute force and raw blood energy, smashing your way through."
Lin Xiaoxia leaned back in the leather seat and pouted.
"Once you get to Kyoto University of Martial Arts, that kind of fighting style will get you into trouble."
"This lousy book—I guess it's barely passable. I'm giving it to you!"
lities. One day, Qi Yuan was buying groceries when he unfortunately came face-to-face with a monster. Just when he thought he was going to die on the spot, he suddenly heard the monster's thoughts... "This aura, he's definitely not an ordinary master!" "So terrifying, so terrifying." "A fight with my back against the wall, I can't take it anymore." Qi Yuan: Ah, no one told me that my awakened ability isn't telepathy, but rather the stronger my enemies imagine me to be, the stronger I truly become. PS: Zhou Hai in the first chapter is not the protagonist.
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
e, Immortal Body, Transmigration, System, Progression Fantasy, Academy Setting, Third-Person Perspective. Alternate Title: Transmigrating into a High Martial World and Reading Live Comments. Bad news: I transmigrated. This is a terrifying high-martial world, and my original, pathetically weak body fell into a coma and never woke up. Good news: I got a Popularity Points system upon arrival. I can see live comments and even create an unkillable alternate identity. Starting out, the alternate identity has all stats at 1. The system tells me that to grow stronger, I must participate in the plot, gain popularity points to allocate stats and grow stronger, and ultimately awaken my original body. And so, carrying my original body on my back, I officially entered Huaqing Academy, where the story's protagonist resides. From that moment on, Chen Guan kicked the original plot to pieces. Live Comments: [Doesn't anyone find this mysterious coffin guy creepy? He can summon indescribable grey misty hands.] [Is this guy a hero or a villain? What kind of onion became a spirit?] [By the way, does anyone know who's in the coffin? Shouldn't the debt for saving his life be repaid by now?] [According to unofficial histories, the person in the coffin was Chen Guan's first love. Their love was once passionate and earth-shattering, but they were separated by life and death due to worldly circumstances. What a star-crossed pair.] ... Years later, the world knew of a demon god born from a coffin, shrouded in grey mist, impossible to gaze upon directly. His foremost divine emissary often wielded a scythe, reaping lives like the god of death. As war approached, facing former friends and a boundless sea of enemies, Chen Guan merely raised his scythe. "Would you like to dance as well?"
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.”
