Chen Feng had no idea why others couldn't learn the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms.
After all, he hadn’t learned it himself either.
"My skills are all given by the system."
"Who knows why you people can’t master it?"
But Chen Feng suspected it might be because the techniques were too unique.
After all, the system had to search extensively to find a 100% match before he could train in them.
If just anyone could learn them, that would truly be bizarre.
Finding disciples wouldn’t be such a hassle then.
Seeing online videos of people attempting the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms, Chen Feng couldn’t help but smirk and shake his head.
"Those who tried to scam me must be disappointed now."
……
With the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms exposed across the internet and wealthy heirs failing to become his disciples,
hardly anyone came to seek apprenticeship anymore.
This saved Chen Feng a lot of trouble.
But seeing all that money slip through his fingers—it was genuinely tempting.
Unfortunately, not a single person had been matched successfully by the system.
To be honest,
Chen Feng had once considered
whether he should trick a rich disciple.
Take the tuition first to ease his current financial struggles,
then blame the disciple’s lack of talent if they failed to master the techniques.
But it was just a thought.
His noble character wouldn’t allow him to do something so unethical.
"Scamming people just isn’t my thing."
"Taking money is one thing, but ruining someone’s martial arts future? That’s downright cruel."
"Guess I’ll just have to pin my hopes on Liu Weiwei performing well."
"Maybe the competition prize money can ease some of the loan pressure."
……
Provincial Martial Apprentice Tournament.
Chen Feng arrived in the provincial capital three days early.
Most of the hotels near the venue were fully booked.
And even if there were vacancies, Chen Feng couldn’t afford them anyway.
Staring at the four-digit nightly rates on his discount app, he sighed deeply.
Awkwardly, he told his two disciples:
"The area near the stadium is too crowded. It’ll be noisy at night and disrupt our rest."
"Let’s find somewhere quieter to stay."
Both disciples nodded obediently.
They knew full well their master was strapped for cash.
But they played dumb to spare his pride.
Chen Feng checked his remaining loan limit.
Gritting his teeth, he booked a cheap motel room—fifty bucks a night—
a good ten kilometers away from the stadium.
By the time they arrived, it was already dark.
The motel owner gave Chen Feng a knowing look.
"This young man… interesting."
Once inside, Chen Feng laid out a makeshift bed on the floor, letting his two disciples take the actual bed.
Jin Youxi said worriedly:
"Master, isn’t the floor too cold? Why don’t you come up here?"
"The three of us can squeeze in."
Liu Weiwei stayed silent, her face flushed.
Her emotions were tangled—nervous, excited, her mind racing with wild thoughts.
To avoid impropriety, Chen Feng firmly refused.
But the motel was far from quiet.
"Master, why is this place so loud? Are people fighting?"
"The sounds are… weird."
Chen Feng coughed awkwardly.
"The room on the left must be fixing a wall. The one on the right is probably repairing a bed."
"Don’t overthink it. Get some sleep."
"We need to check out the stadium tomorrow and pick up our competition numbers."
After that weak excuse, he wondered if they should switch motels.
Lying on the floor,
Chen Feng could still faintly hear noises from below and muttered angrily:
"Don’t these people ever stop? Can’t they keep it down?"
Liu Weiwei tossed and turned, her face burning, unable to sleep.
Meanwhile, Jin Youxi was out like a light, even grinding her teeth and mumbling in her sleep.
Suddenly, Liu Weiwei heard movement.
In the dim glow of streetlight through the window,
she saw Chen Feng slowly rise and walk toward the bed.
Her breath hitched.
"What? Me? What do I do?"
"Should I keep pretending to sleep?"
"What if he…"
Peeking through half-closed eyes, she watched his hand approach, her heartbeat doubling.
It felt like her heart might leap out of her throat any second.
Then she heard Chen Feng murmur:
"Such a troublemaker. Kicked the blanket right off."
He tugged the half-fallen blanket back over Jin Youxi before returning to his spot on the floor.
Only after he settled did Liu Weiwei exhale, clutching her chest.
The tension had left her drenched in sweat.
The next day, at the provincial stadium.
Top-ten fighters from every city gathered to collect their numbers, scout the venue, and review the rules.
Chen Feng had only ever watched the tournament online before.
He wasn’t entirely clear on the format and regulations.
Luckily, the provincial rules matched the city-level ones.
"Well, well. Look who it is."
"Here to watch my Ruohan compete?"
"Listen here, Chen Feng—Ruohan has nothing to do with you anymore."
Xiao Ruohan hadn’t expected to run into Chen Feng here.
Logically, he shouldn’t have been around.
Even if he wanted to watch the tournament,
he could’ve just streamed it at home.
Usually, only locals or friends and family of participants showed up in person.
"Did he come just to see me fight?"
The thought flickered in Xiao Ruohan’s mind, stirring something in her chest.
Chen Feng frowned. Of all the people to bump into while queuing—Xiao Ruohan and her mother.
Frankly, he had no interest in engaging with them.
So he stayed silent, pretending not to notice.
Better than arguing with a shrew in public.
But while Chen Feng could ignore them, his disciple couldn’t.
Jin Youxi rolled her eyes at the mother-daughter pair and snapped:
"As if we’d come for you. We’re here to compete."
Xiao Ruohan’s mother sneered:
"Pfft—"
"Who are you trying to fool?"
"Without my daughter, that trashy martial arts school of yours has no business being here."
Jin Youxi shot back:
"Says who?"
"My junior sister took second place in the city tournament. Of course she qualifies."
Junior sister?
Xiao Ruohan was stunned.
Then she noticed Jin Youxi pushing a wheelchair.
"Liu Weiwei?!"
Xiao Ruohan froze.
"She’s still competing?"
"But I crippled her legs!"
Her mother also spotted Liu Weiwei in the wheelchair and scoffed:
"Oh-ho! So it’s you!"
"The loser my daughter already beat!"
"Showing up in a wheelchair? What a joke!"
"Don’t embarrass the Jiangcheng martial arts community."
"Without my Ruohan, that pathetic school of yours is nothing."
he colors of other people’s emotions. Light red meant anxiety. Gray meant exhaustion. Orange meant excitement. Yellow... meant repression. At the same time, he could gain unlimited control over one of those colors. Pale cyan: relaxation. Using this ability, he started offering “two-yuan hugs,” spending an afternoon exchanging emotional-color experiences with others. Then came his final female customer of the day— a girl whose emotional color was pure black... —— A week later, Xu Chuan had become skilled at using pale cyan—Relaxation—treating it like a bottle of menthol balm whenever he needed it. That was when he discovered he had unlocked another unlimited emotional color: Purple, the color of fear. So these emotional colors refresh every week? Fine, I take it back—I’ll never call you useless again... —— Much later, after Xu Chuan had accumulated countless emotional abilities, one night, he suddenly found himself inside someone else’s dream. There, he could use the emotional colors he possessed to paint. And in her dream, he painted her a shower of pink shooting stars, spreading across the depths of the night sky...
ions, keeping it grounded and realistic】 After quitting his job, office worker Su Yang accidentally binds with the "Enjoy Life System." As the name suggests, simply by indulging in life's pleasures, he can earn random rewards from the system—no need to spend money on beautiful women or grovel before anyone. Just enjoy, and the money follows, making it all about effortless fun. The system comes with a scanning feature, allowing him to establish a favorability bond with women rated 85 points or above. Every 20-point increase in favorability unlocks additional rewards. After suffering through over twenty years of hardship, Su Yang trembles with excitement, his dull eyes suddenly gleaming with newfound hope. "Enjoy life? How hard could that be?"
and couldn't return to the real world. Finally, I gave up and decided to go with the flow, only to discover that writing a diary could make me stronger. Since no one could read it, Su Luo wrote freely, daring to pen anything and everything. Female Lead #1: "Not bad. This diary helped me steal all the protagonist's opportunities. I just want to get stronger." Female Lead #2: "I don’t care about reaching the peak of the cultivation world. Right now, I just want to enjoy the chaos." Female Lead #3: "What? Everyone around me is a spy? I’m the Joker Demon Lord?" ... It’s so strange. Why is the plot completely off track, yet the ending remains the same? Are you all just messing with me?!
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.
