Scholars, witches, mystics—and finally, even ordinary people holding books in their hands.
Countless phantoms appeared beneath the moonlight within the [Grand Library].
In the streets, inside buildings, atop the city walls...
The original citizens, the countless phantoms, the seal-builders—throughout the entire city, more and more readers were gathering. Their momentum was so immense that it seemed poised to surpass even the vast sea of books.
[Orange] was still channeling power, with no time to spare for anything else.
Persimmon’s eyes reddened slightly as she kept calculating the new progress, overcome with excitement.
“At this rate, we can easily complete more than half of it. Shopkeeper, what is this [Reading Day] the readers keep mentioning? Does it refer to some special day that occurs once every 120 years?”
Chen Miemie was excited as well. He had never expected his tentative attempt to actually work.
He was about to confirm Persimmon’s guess.
But the words stopped at his lips.
Among the countless phantoms, he had spotted two familiar figures—two people who should never have appeared.
He silently looked toward them.
The two phantoms saw him as well. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they both gave him a slight nod of respect.
“[Reading Day], Year 3765 of the Seventh Epoch. Witch [Chameleon], reciting *The Butterfly Transformation*.”
“[Reading Day], Year 3765 of the Seventh Epoch. Scholar [Four Seasons Tea], reciting *Pride and Prejudice*.”
Chen Miemie changed what he had been about to say.
“I thought so too, but perhaps it isn’t.”
He was puzzled as well. What exactly was [Reading Day]? If it came only once every 120 years, these two should not have appeared.
Only then did he realize that the first year of the Eighth Epoch—the same year as Year 3783 of the Seventh Epoch—was not a multiple of 120. So why had it been universally recognized as [Reading Day] in the Book-Sealing Archive?
The joy on Persimmon’s face did not last long.
The phantoms of the readers were providing a steady stream of energy, but the requirements for this seal were simply too demanding. It had to contain nearly a thousand aberrations for countless years. Once the seal passed the halfway mark, the phantoms’ efficiency at supplying power noticeably declined.
After it exceeded sixty percent, its progress slowed to a snail’s crawl.
Persimmon was a master of changing expressions. Her smile vanished at once, replaced by a miserable look.
“How can this be? Even with so many readers, it’s still not enough?”
[Orange] had anticipated this.
“For these readers to use reading to cross time and space, turning phantom power into something real and lending us their strength—the results have already far exceeded our expectations.”
“But... but at this rate, we can only hold out until seventy percent. It still won’t be enough.”
And reality proved Persimmon right. Once the progress passed sixty-five percent, the assistance provided by the phantoms had become negligible. The progress bar practically ground to a halt.
The situation had once again fallen into despair.
On the surface, Persimmon merely looked a little anxious. Inside, however, she was nearly frantic.
Watching the pleas for help continually arrive from all over the city, she bit down hard on her tongue, forcing herself to calm down.
She kept muttering to herself.
“There must be another way. The witches’ help, humanity’s help, the shopkeeper’s help—we’ve already used all of it. What else can help us? Persimmon, think! Think of something!”
Unfortunately, even the cleverest housewife cannot cook without rice. The [Grand Library] had already played every card in its hand. Thinking alone could not solve every problem.
An air of despair began to spread.
More often than not, people are not afraid of sacrifice. What they fear is making sacrifices that accomplish nothing.
It was not only [Orange] whose hair was gradually fading to white. The same was happening to the other fifteen seal-site repairers.
At the seal site in the north of the city, the witch assigned to guard it was already on the verge of collapse.
Her hands had grown too weak to keep holding the book open.
“Is this going to fail? It hurts so much...” Her eyes brimmed with tears.
A strange book called *The Book of Tearstains* fluttered over. “Hey! Why aren’t you reading properly? You’re actually crying? I’m going to record what you look like when you cry. Go on, tell me—why are you crying?”
The witch had seen *The Book of Tearstains* before. She had never imagined that one day she herself would be entered into its pages. Trying to make her last words sound a little more grand, she said, “The great cause remains unfinished, yet I perish midway through. Alas, how tragic.”
*The Book of Tearstains* was having none of it. “What is that supposed to mean? Can’t you say it plainly? I only record the truest feelings.”
The witch rephrased it.
“I can’t complete the seal. I feel terrible. I want to cry.”
“Now that’s more like it. Entry complete. I’m off.”
Flapping its little wings, *The Book of Tearstains* flew away.
After calls for help had been sent out from every quarter and no replies came, everyone understood what that meant.
Certain thoughts began to take root.
On the rooftop—
Seven or eight witches ignored all attempts to stop them and forced their way up.
Leading them was a witch codenamed [Peeling Paint].
Persimmon stood in their path. “[Peeling Paint], what are you doing?”
[Peeling Paint] ignored her and called directly to [Orange], “Lady Orange, the situation is obvious. This can’t be done. We should give up.”
Persimmon’s eyes widened. “[Peeling Paint], do you even know what you’re saying? If we fail to complete the seal, we’ll lose at least half the city. This is our city!”
Only then did [Peeling Paint] look at Persimmon.
“Our city? Officially, perhaps. But how many witches are there among us? We don’t even make up one percent of the population!
“Lady Orange, Persimmon, don’t you see? It’s already certain that we can’t complete it. Dying now would be meaningless. And even if we did complete the seal, would this city truly still be ours?
“If every high-ranking witch among the human witches dies, will humans sing our praises—or will they simply take our place?
“Decades ago, we tried to enter every human city. No witch has forgotten what happened then.
“Even if we retain only half the city, wouldn’t that be enough for witches to live in? Why should we risk our lives?”
[Orange] raised a hand, stopping Persimmon from continuing the argument.
She looked quietly at [Peeling Paint].
Though she did not say a word, [Peeling Paint] could not help breaking out in a cold sweat.
At last, Orange spoke.
“[Peeling Paint], your intentions are good. You are weighing the costs and benefits from the standpoint of our race, and your calculations are clear enough.
“But you need to understand: governing a city is not the same as running a business. Cost and profit cannot always be measured by immediate gains and losses.
“Reputation, public trust, the will of the people, the spirit of the city... these are things you cannot see or calculate.
“This is our city now. If we surrender half of it whenever we face a powerful enemy, clinging to life in whatever remains, then today we yield one step to the Aberrants; tomorrow, another step to hostile races; the day after that, yet another to witches from other branches. One day, there will be nowhere left to retreat.
“Listen carefully. We human witches will not yield the first step.”
[Peeling Paint] did not directly contradict [Orange]. “You’re right, but in the current situation, throwing our lives away won’t solve the problem. Fighting to the death may be noble, but when we know it can’t be done, retreating is the only way to preserve a future.”
[Orange] sighed inwardly as well.
This sealing was actually one of her single-use abilities. Before activating it, she had no way of knowing exactly how much energy it would require—only that it would be an immense amount. Who could have imagined it would require this much?
If she had known from the start that it would be nowhere near enough, she could indeed have chosen not to begin. But now, there was no stopping it.
For one thing, once this ability was activated, there would be only one chance. If she gave up, that chance would never come again.
For another, all the factions were now working together, and the people had placed their hopes in this effort. As the city’s administrator and the one who had initiated the plan, how could a proud witch possibly flee like a deserter?
Chen Miemie had already left the rooftop earlier and was now wandering through the city.
He had done everything he could to help, rallying a huge crowd and completing over fifty percent of the progress. For the moment, there was nothing else he could do.
“Huh? There are so many book aberrations up ahead. What are they all huddled together for?” Ever curious about a spectacle, Chen Miemie headed over.
e vast world of cultivation, where he becomes the master of the Heavenly Ruins Sacred Hall, a dying old man with barely a tenth of his former cultivation remaining. He is immediately confronted with a deadly crisis: his subordinates have rebelled, and his protectors are forcing him to abdicate. At the critical moment, the system descends from the heavens: [Ding! The host has been detected facing a life-or-death crisis. The system is now officially activated!] [As a gift, you have received the Supreme Beginner’s Pack and awakened the ultimate cheat: ten thousand years of pure cultivation essence every second!] Yin Tianjue: “Wait… ten thousand years of cultivation every second? That’s six hundred thousand years a minute, and in one day… I can’t even calculate it. Either way, I’m already invincible!” You’re a peerless prodigy rarely seen in ten thousand years? Sorry, I gain ten thousand years of cultivation every second. You’re an undying ancestor who has guarded a sacred land for countless ages? Sorry, I gain ten thousand years of cultivation every second. You’re the strongest chosen one, blessed with heaven-defying destiny? Sorry, I gain ten thousand years of cultivation every second. From this day forth, I have only one thing to say: “I gain ten thousand years of cultivation every second. Now, how exactly are you supposed to deal with that?”
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?"
e school belle recognized by the whole school, a genius girl from the kendo club. She also has a hidden identity, the youngest legendary demon hunter. Chen Shuo just transmigrated and found himself turned into a weak, helpless little vampire. He was caught by Su Xiyen and taken home at the very beginning. Since then, Chen Shuo's life creed only had two items. "First, classmate Su Xiyen is always right." "Second, if classmate Su Xiyen is wrong, please refer back to item one." Many years later, Chen Shuo, who had turned back into a human, led a pair of twins to appear in front of all the vampires to share the secret of how he turned back into a human. "It's simple, I tricked a female demon hunter into becoming my wife!"
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."
