"15 prodigies?"
Seeing the system notification, Lu Ze raised an eyebrow.
Since they were rated as "prodigies" by the system, their demonic values must be substantial.
A game full of talented individuals—this was a golden opportunity to farm demonic points!
Even without a system quest, he was determined to torment them ruthlessly.
Lu Ze rubbed his hands together eagerly, already scheming up all sorts of vicious strategies.
The match loaded, and Lu Ze spawned at the Yellow Team's starting point.
A familiar voice rang out: "Holy crap, why is my teammate Bai Mu!?"
Lu Ze turned and saw the familiar figure of Zhong Yi standing behind him. He couldn’t help but grin.
Zhong Yi was mortified.
He didn’t want to drag down Zhou Yue and Mu Yawen, but he also wanted to spar with top-tier players, so he queued for duo mode alone.
To his horror, the system matched him with the infamous "Bai Mu."
"Zhou Yue, Li Moran, Mu Yawen, Zhou Qiaoling, Shen Yan, Li Jiujian..."
Lu Ze opened the scoreboard, his smirk widening as he scanned the familiar names.
Old acquaintances—he knew their demonic values all too well.
He already had a clear priority list for who to target first.
"May I ask your esteemed name, fellow cultivator? Which immortal master do you study under?"
Zhong Yi clasped his hands in a respectful bow.
"A wanderer," Lu Ze replied casually.
He had altered his voice with a spell, so Zhong Yi couldn’t recognize him.
"No sect, yet such innate talent… You truly are remarkable, fellow cultivator!"
Zhong Yi’s admiration only grew.
"Enough chatter. Go soak in the spring first."
Lu Ze waved dismissively, pointing to the nearby resource point.
The two jumped in, simultaneously consuming iron and gold ingots.
"Fellow cultivator, those seven teams outside… they’re all here for you..."
Zhong Yi hesitated, wrestling with his conscience.
He knew the playstyles and strengths of all 14 opponents.
Revealing everything would make him feel like a traitor to his sect.
But keeping it from his teammate felt dishonorable.
He was torn.
"No need. You don’t have to tell me their strategies… they won’t win anyway."
Lu Ze saw right through Zhong Yi’s dilemma and chuckled.
"Thank you for your understanding!"
Zhong Yi sighed in relief, then scratched his head in confusion.
"Then… what should I do?"
Lu Ze grinned. "Remember what I said earlier?"
"A wanderer?"
"The next line."
"Soak in the spring?"
"No..."
Lu Ze wagged a finger and gave him a meaningful look.
"Enough chatter."
"Uh..."
Zhong Yi’s face flushed red with embarrassment.
"How did you—"
"Caught your livestreams. You’ve got quite the cursed mouth."
"...Must be a misunderstanding."
As they spoke, Zhong Yi glanced outside.
The other teams were already gathering their starter gear and wool, positioning themselves at the edges of their bases, ready to rush for the central island’s resources.
"Fellow cultivator, aren’t we going?"
Zhong Yi asked curiously.
"No rush. Let them run ahead for a bit."
Lu Ze leisurely stood up and strolled to the shop.
Zhong Yi obediently handed over his gold and iron ingots.
With lightning-fast speed, Lu Ze purchased a basic set of gear, three stacks of wool, a fishing rod, and two explosive talismans.
"Fellow cultivator, what should I do now?"
Zhong Yi asked eagerly.
"Buy a fishing rod."
"Oh? Are you going to teach me fishing techniques? Please, enlighten me!"
Zhong Yi’s eyes lit up.
Seeing "Bai Mu" also buy a rod, he wondered what tricks it could be used for.
"Then get a bucket of water and dig a hole to pour it in."
"And then?"
"Then sit there and fish."
"..."
"Alright, I’m off."
Watching "Bai Mu" walk away, Zhong Yi gritted his teeth in frustration:
"Damn it, he’s looking down on me!! I, Zhong Yi, would rather die by the sword, get knocked into the abyss by a punch rod, than sit here fishing in the base!!!"
Meanwhile, Lu Ze had reached the edge of their base.
Normally in solo or duo mode, players would prioritize attacking their closest neighbors.
With eight teams, two islands were always in close proximity, making early aggression common.
But since the others were used to four-player matches, they instinctively rushed for the central island’s resources.
The fastest, the Black Team, had already covered a third of the distance.
Judging by the ID, it was Zhou Yue.
"Not bad..."
Lu Ze watched Zhou Yue’s crouch-jump bridging technique and silently praised him.
After only a week of playing, Zhou Yue had already improvised a more efficient bridging method—far more talented than Zhong Yi behind him.
Bridging was a fundamental skill in "Bed Wars."
As players delved deeper into the game, techniques evolved from simple crouch-bridging to advanced methods like sprint-bridging, fly-bridging, and even god-bridging...
Speed kept increasing.
And Lu Ze?
He knew them all.
He possessed not just the collective wisdom of countless game designers from his past life,
but also the ingenuity of millions of players!
"Brother Zhong."
Lu Ze turned back with a smile, waving a stack of yellow wool blocks at him.
"Watch closely. Learn well."
"Huh?"
Zhong Yi blinked in confusion.
Then, "Bai Mu" casually strode to the edge of their island.
Most players would pause here to align themselves before bridging.
But "Bai Mu" didn’t stop—he walked straight off.
No crouching. No slowing down.
His body swayed slightly as blocks materialized beneath his feet.
It was like...
walking on air!
Zhong Yi’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
Zhou Yue’s bridging technique was based on his own theories.
Zhong Yi couldn’t execute it himself, so Zhou Yue put it into practice.
From crouch-bridging to side-crouch, then crouch-jump, side-crouch-jump...
Each refinement was Zhong Yi’s application of Minecraft’s mechanics.
But compared to "Bai Mu’s" aerial stroll...
He felt like a caveman staring at a spaceship.
The live chat exploded.
[Holy hell… Did he bring a flight mod in here?]
[Impossible! This is a realm governed by the Heavenly Dao! Who could defy its rules?]
[This bridging speed… is insane!!]
[Damn! He’s walking like it’s solid ground!]
[Is this immortal treading the path of the gods…?]
[Senior Disciple Zhong, watch and learn!]
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
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."
d intelligence to keep the plot moving, and sometimes even the protagonists are forced into absurdly dumb decisions. Why does the A-list celebrity heroine in urban romance novels ditch the top-tier movie star and become a lovestruck fool for a pockmarked male lead? Why do the leads in historical tragedy novels keep dancing between love and death, only for the blind healer to end up suffering the most? And Gu Wei never expected that after finally landing a villain role to stir up trouble, she’d pick the wrong gender! No choice now—she’ll just have to crush the protagonists as a girl!
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.
