Luo Wei led Eleya through the sewer junction for a while before the two resurfaced. The blinding sunlight made Luo Wei squint—today was an unusually clear day in Saint Callen. His gaze swept cautiously around; the entire city was under strict martial law. The once-bustling streets of the eastern district were now deserted, every household locked tight.
"Next, we’ll rendezvous with Helena outside the royal city. We must be careful not to be spotted by the city defense forces," Luo Wei said, turning back to signal her.
Eleya kept close to Luo Wei’s steps as the two slipped silently through narrow alleyways.
"By the way, where’s Ophelia?" Eleya suddenly asked. Since Luo Wei’s plan assigned roles to both Tilis and Helena, surely Ophelia had one too.
"Her task is critical," Luo Wei replied. "She should be in a meeting with her trusted allies right now."
"A meeting?" Eleya raised an eyebrow. "Plotting a coup?"
"Correct."
Eleya sighed softly. "So, you’re helping her seize the throne. Clever scheming, Luo Wei. If your plan succeeds, you’ll be the one who benefits the most..."
"We’re left with no choice," Luo Wei turned to look at her. "Only this can resolve our current predicament. Isn’t this a win-win?"
"No, you’re deflecting the conflict," Eleya scoffed. "Don’t think I don’t see your tactics. You’re dragging me onto your war chariot to deplete my strength—killing two birds with one stone."
"But you have no alternative," Luo Wei said flatly. This was an open stratagem.
...
Saint Callen’s western district, Riverside Road, an old mansion.
Ophelia studied the city defense map of Saint Callen spread across the coffee table, surrounded by core agents of the Special Affairs Department. They murmured in low voices, discussing the upcoming mission. The atmosphere in the living room was heavy and tense.
A pungent haze of cigarette smoke filled the air. Ophelia wrinkled her nose in discomfort, her gaze flickering toward Sir Fred.
He was frowning at the map, chain-smoking without pause since the meeting began.
Though Ophelia detested the smell, she didn’t stop her old subordinate from using cigarettes to ease his nerves. After all, the coming operation was a matter of life and death for everyone involved.
"By the way, Your Highness..." Noticing Ophelia’s stare, Fred discreetly stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray. "Isn’t this place a bit unsafe? William has eyes everywhere..."
He couldn’t help but wonder why the princess had chosen this old western district mansion as the command center for their "coup plot" when she owned several secret estates.
"There’s no safer place than this," Ophelia offered no further explanation.
"Is that so..." Fred scratched his thinning hair skeptically, thinking a single artillery shell from the city defense forces could flatten this rundown house.
"Focus on the task at hand, Fred. Where are the people I asked you to discreetly contact?" Ophelia asked.
"They’ve been secretly brought into Saint Callen," Fred answered truthfully. "But with the city under lockdown, they might arrive here a bit later."
Ophelia tapped the map absently with her fingers. "They’re the last piece..."
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
"They’re here!" Fred stood up.
Ophelia hurried to open the door, revealing an elderly man and a middle-aged woman—Elder Roens and Elder Margery of the Arcane Covenant, Tilis’ right-hand allies.
"Finally, you’ve arrived," Ophelia welcomed them inside. The agents of the Special Affairs Department turned their attention to the newcomers.
The name "Arcane Covenant" was well-known to all. Though these two weren’t as infamous as the Calamity Witch, they were still high-ranking dark sorcerers on the most-wanted lists.
"Never thought I’d see the day..." Fred lit another cigarette. "The Special Affairs Department would collaborate with the Arcane Covenant."
"Consider it an honor," Margery shot him a disdainful glance.
"Margery..." Roens lowered his voice. "Remember what the Archmage instructed. We’re all on the same side now."
"I’ve heard orthodox mages look down on humans, treating them like insects," Fred chuckled dryly. "Seems it’s true."
"Eh? Why’s everyone arguing as soon as I arrive?" Inspector Raymond strode into the living room, dust-covered, followed by his escorts—the shadow guards Jason and Caroline.
"Inspector Raymond." Ophelia nodded before scanning the room. "Now that everyone except the vampires is here..."
"Elder Roens said something earlier that rings true," her voice was clear and melodious yet carried undeniable weight. "We’re all on the same ship now. If any part of this operation fails, we’ll all perish in Saint Callen. But if we succeed—"
"Every one of you here—whether mages seeking the world’s recognition, or superhuman agents branded as madmen and dangers—will have your fates rewritten. I can’t promise a brighter future, but I believe it’s better to seize destiny with your own hands. Don’t you agree?"
"Well said, Your Highness!" Inspector Raymond stood and applauded.
Fred side-eyed the rising star of the police force, thinking, No wonder this kid gets promoted so fast.
But the princess’s words had their intended effect. The once-grim atmosphere now buzzed with subdued fervor. "Fighting for destiny" had elevated the meeting’s purpose from a mere coup plot to something far grander.
"Lady Ophelia, we’ve brought what you requested," Roens lifted a suitcase, opening it to reveal rows of faintly glowing magic crystals etched with intricate arcane sigils.
"With illusion and disguise spells, your agents can alter their forms. Paired with robes and fake staves, they’ll be indistinguishable from Hawkins’ Royal Mage Corps. Ordinary folk won’t tell the difference."
Ophelia picked up a crystal and nodded in satisfaction. "The Arcane Covenant delivers. My gratitude."
Margery’s smile held a trace of pride. "The Empire’s fools only know how to turn these into artillery. Little do they realize Gould’s standard magic crystals were stolen from our designs—their prototypes were the Covenant’s enchanted orbs and crystals. The original crystal magic held infinite possibilities."
"Impressive, impressive," Fred remarked.
Ophelia looked down at the map, as if surveying all of Saint Callen from above.
"Everyone, let’s go make some chaos."
pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"
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.
close your eyes and open them again, only to find yourself transmigrated into the role of a villainous male supporting character. Readers familiar with urban wish-fulfillment novels know that it is only through the relentless antics of the villainous male supporting character that the plot between the male and female leads can progress. As the villainous male supporting character, Long Aotian not only has to bully the female lead, harass the second female lead, and flirt with the third female lead, but he also has to go all out to antagonize the male lead. In the end, when his body is discovered, he is still clutching half a moldy fried dough stick in his hand. Fully aware of the plot, Long Aotian is determined to change his fate, starting with the female lead! In the beginning, the female lead lacks confidence: "Big brother, I hope I didn't scare you?" In the middle, the female lead treads carefully: "Brother Long, please don't hit me, okay?" Later on, the female lead becomes coquettishly clingy: "Aotian, it's time to pay the 'public grain' tonight." Long Aotian's legs go weak, and he feels like crying: "I taught you to be thick-skinned, not shameless!"
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.”
