"Fine! I agree!"
Tang Xiaoya glared fiercely at An Yi.
Her grandfather's condition was critical. Though she didn’t trust traditional Chinese medicine, she had no other choice now.
The doctors at Jiangbei City Hospital were useless—she could only place her faith in him!
"Hurry up!" Tang Xiaoya urged, unable to bear seeing her grandfather suffer.
An Yi responded irritably, "Stop nagging! He won’t drop dead in the next minute!"
Damn this girl!
Was she even a 9/10 in looks? And yet so high-strung!
Shen Muxuan, Qin Yao, Lan Ruoxi, Yan Zhi—any of them outshone her!
An Yi swiftly wielded his needles, his movements fluid as he inserted silver needles one after another into the old man’s chest. The dense cluster of needles might have triggered trypophobia in some.
Tang Xiaoya paled, fearing An Yi might jab too hard.
The heart wasn’t something to mess with, but his practiced, effortless technique gave her a sliver of confidence.
Her gaze toward An Yi now held a glimmer of hope.
Maybe this kid, who looked even younger than her, could actually pull it off!
"Ah!"
The old man—Mr. Tang—let out a muffled groan, gripping the sheets tightly as cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Oops, my bad! Wrong acupuncture point!"
An Yi looked thoroughly embarrassed as he pulled the needle back out.
Tang Xiaoya:
She wanted to strangle him.
Time ticked by.
By the time An Yi finished, it was already evening.
Mr. Tang’s heart was clogged with stagnant blood.
Worse, it wasn’t just his heart—his meridians, organs, and tissues were riddled with old injuries.
Channeling energy through the needles to clear the blockages had exhausted An Yi.
"Finally done!"
Yawning, An Yi began packing up his needles.
Tang Xiaoya, drowsy until now, jolted awake at his voice and rushed over anxiously. "How is he? Grandpa, do you feel better?"
Mr. Tang stretched his arms, vitality returning to his face. "I’ve never felt this light. My chest isn’t tight anymore, and the heart pain is gone."
"It actually worked!"
Tang Xiaoya’s heart swelled with relief, tears nearly spilling over.
This trip had been just her and her grandfather. With him falling ill and no one else around, she’d been terrified of something going wrong.
"Hey… thanks, kid."
Her gaze softened as she looked at An Yi.
Sure, he was still a pain—but he was now the Tang family’s savior.
An Yi replied flatly, "No need for thanks. Just pay up."
"Money-grubber! No bedside manner!" she muttered before asking, "Give me your bank details. I’ll transfer the money."
An Yi recited his account number.
A moment later, his phone pinged with a notification.
His entire being lit up like he’d swallowed a magical fruit.
Five million!
Last time he’d "redistributed wealth" (ahem, acted heroically), he’d barely scraped together five million after all that effort!
He opened his system to check his balance—and froze.
The string of digits made his heart skip.
One, ten, hundred, thousand… fourteen million!!!
He counted again to be sure. Yep, fourteen million.
Where’d the extra five come from?
A note at the bottom explained: his demand for payment had bordered on extortion, qualifying as a "gamble." Thus, the Demon Fund doubled the reward.
"Extortion? Gambling? Just for hustling that girl?"
An Yi couldn’t argue with the system’s logic.
Hell yes, double it!
Fourteen million!
A month ago, he wouldn’t have dreamed of such wealth. Back then, even splurging on 250-yuan sandals hurt.
Now? He was a bona fide millionaire.
Tang Xiaoya frowned at his dazed expression. "The money’s transferred."
"Oh. Got it."
Suppressing his excitement, An Yi forced calm into his voice. "Now, about that bet you lost…"
"What—?"
Tang Xiaoya’s face paled as she remembered. Gritting her teeth, she spat out, "Fine! Traditional Chinese medicine isn’t a scam! TCM—"
"Too quiet. Go shout it outside," An Yi cut in.
"You—!"
Fuming, she stomped to the doorway and muttered under her breath, "TCM isn’t a scam… TCM isn’t…"
"Speak up! Can’t hear you!" An Yi pressed.
"TRADITIONAL CHINESE MEDICINE ISN’T A SCAM! TCM ISN’T A SCAM! TCM ISN’T A SCAM—!"
Her embarrassed shouts echoed through the hallway.
Instantly, the entire floor erupted.
"Bloody hell, who’s yowling in the middle of the night?!"
"Moron! Screaming like a lunatic!"
"Idiot! Show some damn respect—this is a hospital!"
"You brain-dead or what?! Shut the hell up!"
An Yi raised an eyebrow.
Jiangbei City’s patient population was impressively diverse—judging by the mix of accents cursing back.
Mr. Tang spoke up gently, "Young friend—"
"Not my fault. A bet’s a bet."
An Yi shrugged.
Mr. Tang chuckled. "Xiaoya’s been spoiled. Consider this a lesson in humility." He then bowed slightly. "I owe you my life. I am Tang Baichuan. May I know your name?"
"An Yi. Just An Yi."
An Yi casually replied, "No need for thanks—I'm getting paid for this anyway. You're a martial artist, aren't you, old-timer? Those injuries of yours are all internal damage."
"Indeed, I am."
Tang Baichuan chuckled warmly. "This life-saving favor is far beyond what a mere five million can repay. My family is based in the capital, and in that little corner of the world, I do have some influence. If you ever need anything in the future, young friend, I won’t hesitate to help."
"Haha, Old Tang, you’re as generous as they come. I’ll take you up on that!"
An Yi’s smile grew even more amiable.
A mere five million?! That’s quite the tone!
Looking at his injuries, they’re the kind you’d only get from over a thousand battles!
And he claims to have influence in the capital!
Key point—his base is in the capital!
All signs point to this old man being anything but ordinary!
At first glance, he seemed like just another wealthy guy, but now it’s clear—he might be a true heavyweight!
Odds are, he’s even more formidable than the Qin family!
At the hospital stairwell.
Tang Xiaoya had just finished shouting "Traditional Chinese medicine isn’t a scam!" a hundred times, only to be thoroughly berated by patients from all over the country crowding the floor.
Now, she sat on the stairs, eyes red and puffy, sniffling and wiping away tears.
She absolutely loathed An Yi at this moment!
"Didn’t expect you’d still be such a crybaby. Here, dry those tears."
Just then, Chen Bing appeared, walking over with a resigned sigh. He handed her a tissue and said gently, "Stop crying, or you won’t be pretty anymore."
Tang Xiaoya, her face streaked with tears, looked up with watery eyes and snapped, "Who the hell are you?"
Chen Bing:
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
] [Lone Wolf, No Male Gaze] [Protagonist is pursued early on; extreme protagonist-stans, stay away!] The "Carnival Paradise" descends and slowly devours the real world in the form of a game. By chance, Zhu Yan awakens the talent [Roleplay], becoming one of the first beta players. He thought he could develop safely, but after clearing the first instance, he is branded by humanity as the chief culprit behind the game's spread—a traitorous villain. A villain? Who would ever... become one! He'll be the villain! From then on, Zhu Yan is not only a player but also a lackey for the Carnival Paradise. Between the straight path and the crooked path, he chooses the con. With his left hand, he dons the villain's mantle, staging scenes within instances, infuriating players who decry him as a despicable traitor, all while the game happily promotes him. With his right hand, he joins the non-human organization "Fangcun Mountain," which opposes the Carnival Paradise, transforming into a mysterious player who slaughters game bosses, earning cheers of "Long live the expert!" from fellow players. Gradually, Zhu Yan rises to become an S-rank human player in Fangcun Mountain's archives, while also being the Carnival Paradise's certified top game Boss. But when the final war erupts and both major factions place their hopes in him— Players tag his various aliases: "Experts, this offensive depends on you." The Carnival Paradise's supreme Boss throws an arm around his neck: "Bro, you're the iron, I'm the steel; you can't let me down again!"
't think I'm that capable, I'm just trying my best to stay alive. I've been kind all my life, never did anything bad, yet worldly suffering spared me not one bit. The human world is a nice place, but I won't come back in my next life. A kind young man, who wanted to just get by singing, but through repeated deceits and betrayals, has gone down an irredeemable path.
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?!
