The Holy Capital.
Outside the Martial Arts Guild.
Hundreds of people crowded the square.
Xu Lan held a megaphone, standing before a phone stand that was livestreaming. She shouted toward the guild's entrance:
"Heads may roll, blood may spill, but Chen Feng's disciple must not prevail!"
"A disciple from the Devouring Heaven Club has become the champion!"
"Is there no justice left? No law?"
"I will never coexist with the Devouring Heaven Club—this ends only when one of us falls!"
As Xu Lan continued her chants, a van pulled up in front of her.
Dozens of crates of bottled water were unloaded.
The protesters eagerly stepped forward to grab the water.
"Thanks, Sister Xu!"
Xu Lan had to set aside her megaphone to pay the delivery driver.
All the water had been paid for out of her own pocket.
She even ordered hundreds of boxed lunches every noon to feed the protesters.
Her goal was simple: keep as many demonstrators as possible.
Though the daily expenses were steep,
she knew the payoff would be enormous if the protest succeeded.
The reason was straightforward.
In the recent National Martial Apprentice Tournament,
Xiao Ruohan had placed eleventh.
If the first-place winner, Liu Weiwei, were disqualified,
the rankings would shift upward—
and her daughter would secure the tenth spot.
According to the tournament's prize structure,
the top ten received cash rewards.
And the prize for tenth place?
A cool million.
The thought alone fueled Xu Lan's determination.
The cost of water and meals no longer stung as much.
Inside the Martial Arts Guild,
the vice president stationed in the Holy Capital
peered out the window at the sea of protesters, rubbing his temples in frustration.
An aide reported:
"Xu Lan is relentless."
"Not long ago, she was detained for cursing those who entered Kunlun Mountain."
"Now, barely released, she's stirring trouble again."
"And she's not just leading the protests—she's bankrolling them."
"Every day, she personally covers the cost of lunches and water for the crowd."
The vice president asked,
"Did the Devouring Heaven Club harm someone close to her?"
"What grudge does she hold against Chen Feng?"
The aide coughed awkwardly.
"No casualties."
No casualties?
The vice president was stunned.
The aide continued, laying out all the details they'd uncovered.
The vice president fumed:
"So this is all about the tenth-place prize money?"
"I despise people like her—exploiting old wounds for personal gain!"
Pacing angrily,
he found himself at a loss for solutions.
The square was packed,
and with social media so pervasive,
the incident had already gone viral.
If not for Kunlun Mountain's imminent closure in two days,
the uproar might have grown even larger.
After all, countless victims of the Devouring Heaven Club existed across Great Xia.
If they all mobilized, the situation would spiral out of control.
Even so, Xu Lan's protest had garnered widespread online support.
Victims of the Devouring Heaven Club
voiced their solidarity in the digital sphere:
"How can a disciple of the Devouring Heaven Club deserve the championship?"
"That title was probably stolen using the Soul-Siphoning Technique!"
"This is an insult to all the victims who suffered under them."
"Why hasn't the Martial Arts Guild addressed this?"
The death toll from the Devouring Heaven Club's atrocities was vast,
and Xu Lan's protest continued to gain momentum.
With each wave of online support,
her confidence grew stronger.
East Sea City.
Su Yan sat in her uncle's home,
watching Xu Lan's protest with amusement, mocking Chen Feng.
"My dear master really picked quite the disciple."
Her uncle interjected:
"When Kunlun Mountain closes this time, Zhang Bowen will emerge."
"But he's heading to the Western Continent."
"Once he leaves Kunlun, his strength will recover by one year's worth each day."
"In two months at most, another storm will begin."
"You must prepare yourself."
Su Yan shuddered,
recalling the terror of twenty years ago—
that one-armed old man,
the nightmare of Great Xia,
was about to return.
Meanwhile, in Kunlun City,
Liu Weiwei had no time for Xu Lan's antics.
With Kunlun's closure just days away,
she clung to a sliver of hope—
that her master might emerge from the mountain's mist.
Her right leg had lost all sensation,
but she had long adapted to life in a wheelchair.
Now a full-fledged martial artist,
she could manage daily life independently.
Still, Jin Youxi had messaged her,
promising to return soon and wait for their master together—
with a surprise in store.
Seoul, South Korea.
The Jin Family Estate.
The entire Jin clan and their distinguished guests gathered
for the family succession announcement.
Grandpa Jin would name the heir today.
Close allies and partners attended,
though few held high hopes for the Jin family's future.
They were here out of respect for Grandpa Jin—
a revered martial arts grandmaster.
But his descendants?
Useless, every last one.
It was obvious to all:
once the old man passed, the Jin family would crumble.
As the assembly settled,
the Eldest Son and Second Son of the Jin Family
clenched their fists in anticipation,
exchanging venomous glares.
The moment arrived.
Grandpa Jin rose,
acknowledging friends and partners with a nod,
then gestured to Jin Youxi beside him:
"My youngest granddaughter, Jin Youxi."
"Recently returned from studying in Great Xia."
The crowd murmured in confusion.
Why introduce this good-for-nothing girl?
Most had heard of her—
the disgrace of the Jin family,
notoriously talentless since her bone assessment ceremony years ago.
Then Grandpa Jin declared:
"Youxi will be the next head of the Jin family."
The room erupted.
The Eldest Son and Second Son shot to their feet in protest.
"Father, how could you hand the family to this failure?"
The Second Son added:
"She's too young! Let me manage things in her stead!"
The Grandson stood next, indignation flaring:
"Grandfather, this isn't fair!"
"I'm the family's top genius—the heir should be me!"
Genius?
Grandpa Jin's face twisted in disgust.
His eldest grandson—
mediocre in skill but unmatched in arrogance.
At twenty-five, still stuck at the apprentice level.
And he dared call himself a genius?
The guests stifled laughter,
politely masking their contempt
out of deference to the grandmaster.
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.
saw a female celebrity tied up and stuffed in the trunk! Little did he know, countless cameras were aimed at him at this moment - this was a new type of reality show. The first randomly selected passerby was caught in less than an hour. But when Xu Moru was selected, things started to take an unexpected turn. "Damn, this isn't how the script goes. This Xu Moru is too bold, he's not following the rules at all." "Crap, is this guy taking it seriously?" "The female celebrity has been scared to tears!"
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.”
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...
