Though underground, an almost blinding radiance seemed to pierce through the tunnel.
The soldiers' eyes gleamed with intensity—locked onto Ye Qing like predators spotting prey.
A fugitive on the run. Capturing him would guarantee at least a third-class merit!
In the military, earning commendations was notoriously difficult, especially in peacetime. Beyond major competitions or special operations, opportunities were scarce.
To them, Ye Qing wasn’t just a man—he was a walking medal.
"Hands up! Come with us—now!"
Though Ye Qing had spent years traversing other realms, a sliver of sentiment for the Dragon Country remained. Unless absolutely necessary... he wouldn’t clash with these soldiers.
And so, bewildered, he let himself be escorted out of the tunnel.
Emerging into the open, Ye Qing froze.
Helicopters roared overhead, blades whipping the air, while soldiers—armed to the teeth—leveled their rifles at him.
"What... what’s going on?"
His mind blanked. The helicopters were relics of childhood memory, alien to him now.
"You’re wanted for intentional assault, illegal border crossing," the officer barked. "And now, add 'destruction of national defense fiber optics.' You just severed a critical line near the capital. Estimated damages: 1.26 million. Local authorities have been notified."
Finally, it clicked.
They wanted to throw him in jail?
No. Damn. Way.
"I—I didn’t! I didn’t cut any cables! I’m not some fugitive! Who’s framing me?!"
The soldiers exchanged exasperated glances.
Buddy, you’re still clutching the damn shovel. Think we’re idiots?
"Take him!" the officer snapped.
Ye Qing’s lips curled into a cold smirk.
"You think you can hold me?"
"Twenty years mastering Qinggong—today’s the day it pays off. You lot? Not even close."
With a scoff, his aura erupted, a tempest of energy coiling into an impenetrable barrier.
Though his meridians had once been shattered, even that hadn’t stopped him. If he could regrow certain organs, rebuilding his strength to the Grandmaster realm was child’s play.
"A martial artist!" The officer paled.
High-level martial artists were walking calamities. Against those at the pinnacle? Conventional weapons barely scratched them.
But the military had contingencies. Specialized units existed solely to handle rogue martial artists.
The soldiers tensed but held their ground.
"Even a martial artist complies with the law."
Click-click-click—
Muzzles snapped toward Ye Qing.
The officer radioed command: "Escaped suspect confirmed as martial artist. Suspected Gangjin-tier. Requesting backup."
A chill shot down Ye Qing’s spine.
Time to go.
"No one keeps me where I don’t wanna be."
His fist clenched.
A shockwave of inner force hurled the nearest soldiers back like ragdolls.
Gunfire erupted—but the bullets slowed mid-air, as if sinking into mud, before clattering harmlessly to the ground.
A Grandmaster’s barrier shrugged off small arms like rain.
BANG!
A deafening crack split the air.
Ye Qing’s barrier shattered. Blood bloomed on his shoulder.
Sniper.
The helicopter’s sharpshooter had found his mark.
Without the barrier’s dampening, that shot would’ve blown his head off.
Rage ignited.
"You dare?!"
This was his first injury—ever.
An enraged Chosen One was terrifying. A Grandmaster? Catastrophic.
A flick of his wrist sent a dozen soldiers sprawling.
But he wasn’t stupid. No fatalities—he wouldn’t wage war against an entire nation.
Run. Now.
If a sniper round broke his defense, what else could they bring?
Staying meant gambling with death.
"Stop him!"
Even wounded, his Qinggong left them in the dust.
Just as freedom seemed assured—
"Who said you could leave?"
A voice, thunderous and imperious, shook the earth.
A crushing pressure descended. A martial domain unfurled, domination made manifest.
A colossal palm—forged from pure energy—slammed down from the heavens.
Ever seen a palm strike from the sky?
BOOM!
Ye Qing looked up—and nearly pissed himself.
The impact sent debris flying. A crater half a basketball court wide gaped in the ground, its palm-print sunk half a meter deep. Fractures spiderwebbed outward.
As for Ye Qing?
Embedded in the dirt. Unrecognizable.
Bloodied, bones shattered, he looked ready for a funeral buffet.
The soldiers stood dumbstruck.
They’d seen combat. But this?
Then—a figure descended, landing with eerie grace.
Terror like a Dou Zong’s wrath.
"S-Sir—?" the officer stammered.
The man was Jiang Yunhuang.
Casually, he approached, producing a crimson booklet.
"Jiang Yunhuang. Chairman of the Martial Artists’ Regulatory Association. Deputy Director of National Security. Credentials."
The officer took it, awe deepening.
"He’s half-dead. No threat now. Take him."
With that, Jiang Yunhuang floated away, vanishing toward the Jiang ancestral estate.
Silence.
Then—
Gulp. Someone swallowed hard.
Only after he’d gone did the murmurs erupt.
"Holy shit! Was that even human? What realm is that?"
"Our division’s head instructor couldn’t do that. A Grandmaster? The legendary kind?"
"The damn Chairman. I’m bragging about this till I die."
Soldiers were still human. And humans? They worshipped strength.
"Alright, alright, calm down. Just haul this guy away already. Tie him up tight—I’ve already contacted the higher-ups. Two master martial artists are on their way to escort him."
"Sir, reporting—this guy’s been slammed so deep into the mud we can’t even pry him out. What now?"
Literally. Can’t even scrape him free!
lanned to earn money steadily and take life at a slower pace. But he never expected... his father's remarriage, and the stepmother bringing along a dependent, would completely disrupt his life's plans...
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.”
] This is a dark fantasy-themed dating simulation game. The main gameplay involves containing various monster girls and investigating the truth of a world shrouded in mist alongside your companions. However, due to his love for the dark and bizarre atmosphere, Luo Wei ended up turning a dating game into a detective mystery game. Women? Women only slow down his quickdraw! To Luo Wei, the female leads in the game are more like tools to perfectly clear levels and squeeze out rewards. For Luo Wei, flirting with every girl he meets and then discarding them is standard procedure. Worried about characters losing affection points? No need. With his maxed-out charm stat, Luo Wei is practically a "human incubus." A little psychological manipulation and those points come right back. It's a bit scummy, but the paper cutout heroines in the game won't actually come at him with real cleavers. However... Luo Wei has transmigrated. He's accidentally entered the second playthrough of this game. His past actions have caused all the girls to transform into terrifying yanderes. Due to the game's setting, most of the heroines he once contained are "troubled girls." Obsessive, twisted, mentally unstable, all aggressive yanderes... The type who will kill you if they can't have you... Luo Wei wants to cry but has no tears left. "I really just want to survive..." In short, this is a story of battling wits and engaging in a love-hate relationship with yanderes.
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?!
