"So you're that Chen Feng?"
"I heard you scammed two beautiful young girls!"
"One of them is even an exchange student from Korea, right?"
"Way to embarrass us internationally."
"Didn’t the Martial Arts Guild promise to give us an explanation?"
"Yeah! Yeah! Why hasn’t this guy been arrested yet?"
...
The bus instantly erupted into chaos.
Chen Feng was speechless.
He never expected to find himself in this situation.
"Looks like I can’t stay on this bus any longer."
"What a waste—I just paid two bucks and only rode three stops."
As soon as the bus pulled over, Chen Feng hurriedly got off, eager to escape the commotion.
But of all the luck—
The middle-aged man who’d been berating him happened to be getting off at the same stop.
Spotting Chen Feng, the man continued his tirade:
"Young man, I suggest you tread carefully."
"Walk the night path too often, and you’ll run into trouble."
As a father—and a fiercely protective one at that—he despised scumbags who preyed on young women.
Especially pretty-boy con artists like Chen Feng, who’d probably ruin countless girls’ lives.
Chen Feng was beyond annoyed. He’d planned to switch buses at this stop,
but the man clung to him like a stubborn stain, even following him off the bus.
To shake him off, Chen Feng decided to splurge on a taxi instead.
Time was running out—he had to reach Jiangcheng City’s Martial Arts Guild by 9 a.m.
Ignoring the man, Chen Feng turned and strode briskly in the opposite direction,
hoping to lose him before hailing a ride.
But fate had other plans. The man’s workplace happened to be in the same direction,
so he kept trailing Chen Feng like a shadow.
Exasperated, Chen Feng ducked into a nearby park.
As luck would have it, the man was a security guard there.
Before starting his shift, he couldn’t resist one last jab:
"Running away now? Finally feeling ashamed?"
Chen Feng had had enough. Whirling around, he snapped:
"Old man! Are you done yet?"
"I’ve held my tongue long enough."
"You don’t even know the truth—why are you so sure I’m a scammer?"
The guard, convinced of his moral superiority,
rolled up his sleeves at the audacity of this "girl-deceiving trash" talking back.
"Daring to mouth off to me?"
"Kid, I’ll teach you some manners today."
With that, he swung a slap at Chen Feng.
As a professional security guard with high standards, the man wasn’t usually quick to violence.
But he’d seen those viral videos—Chen Feng was a complete non-combatant, with zero qi-blood value.
Calling him "ordinary" would be generous.
Even regular folks usually had some qi-blood.
Only those with congenital illnesses or severe disabilities registered as zero.
This guard, however, was no ordinary man.
His qi-blood level exceeded 200—a full-fledged martial artist.
Decades of Tai Chi training honed his skills to near-perfection.
To him, this qi-less weakling was barely worth his time.
But even a clay idol has its temper.
After enduring insults the entire ride and now facing physical attack,
Chen Feng stopped holding back.
With a single motion, he unleashed the 18th technique of the Dragon-Subduing Palm:
Tail of the Divine Dragon!
Having mastered the art to its pinnacle—the 9th Realm of Martial Dao, Harmony of Heaven and Man—
a casual flick of his palm summoned eighteen golden dragons into being.
A deafening dragon roar echoed through the air. Before the security guard could even process what was happening, he was sent flying over ten meters with a single palm strike, ending up dangling from the branches of a small tree.
Staring at the uncle now hanging from the distant tree, Chen Feng was momentarily stunned.
Snapping back to reality, he rushed over in a panic.
He carefully helped the barely conscious man down from the branches.
"Uncle, don’t scare me like this!"
"Uncle, I’m sorry!"
"Please don’t die on me!"
Chen Feng was terrified.
If he accidentally killed someone, he’d become a murderer.
The guard coughed up a mouthful of blood, barely managing to catch his breath.
"You… weren’t you supposed to have zero Qi and Blood?"
Seeing the man still breathing, Chen Feng quietly sighed in relief.
"Uncle, that’s all just internet gossip."
"You fell for the rumors."
"I didn’t expect you to be so weak—I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. It was self-defense."
The guard took a few labored breaths before slowly standing up.
At that moment, the rumors were utterly debunked.
After steadying himself, the uncle muttered weakly,
"I knew it! No one with zero Qi and Blood could’ve registered a martial arts school."
Chen Feng thought to himself,
"With enough money, anything’s possible."
The uncle was an easygoing man.
Now he realized Chen Feng wasn’t the useless loser the internet made him out to be.
That single palm strike had shattered his decades of Tai Chi training without any resistance.
And those eighteen golden dragon phantoms? That was clearly the manifestation of a martial arts technique refined to an extraordinarily high level—a true martial intent.
"My apologies, young man. This old man misjudged you."
"I owe you an apology."
"But I’m curious—how high has your Qi and Blood reached at such a young age?"
Chen Feng couldn’t help but think this uncle had a masochistic streak.
One slap, and suddenly he was all polite.
"I’m just a Martial Apprentice right now."
The uncle chuckled.
"Fine, keep your secrets."
"This old man’s at the early-stage Martial Artist level, with 251 Qi and Blood. My Tai Chi has reached the fifth realm—Precision and Subtlety."
"Yet you defeated me in one strike. You must be at least a late-stage Martial Artist, maybe even an Elite Martial Artist."
Chen Feng was taken aback.
He hadn’t expected this unassuming uncle to already be a Martial Artist.
And he certainly hadn’t anticipated that his Heaven-Man Unity realm Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms could effortlessly overpower a Martial Artist.
Thinking it over, Chen Feng wiped cold sweat from his brow.
"If this uncle weren’t a Martial Artist, that hit wouldn’t have just sent him into a tree."
"It would’ve sent him to the grave."
Now he had a rough grasp of his own strength.
He’d need to hold back in the future.
If he accidentally killed someone with a casual strike, he’d be in deep trouble.
During the taxi ride to the Martial Arts Association, Chen Feng kept reflecting.
He also planned how much strength to display once he arrived.
At the very least, he shouldn’t reveal his Heaven-Man Unity realm.
According to this world’s common knowledge, those who could master any martial art to the Heaven-Man Unity realm—regardless of the technique’s tier—were exceptionally rare.
Anyone who reached that level was either a legendary master or a martial saint.
Given his current Qi and Blood level and age, showing such unreasonable power would raise too many questions.
Better to keep a low profile.
At exactly 9:00 AM, Chen Feng arrived at the plaza in front of the Martial Arts Association headquarters.
Stepping out of the car, he immediately frowned.
"Why are there so many people here?"
"And why is there a stage set up? Is the Martial Arts Association holding some event today?"
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?"
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?!
uld barely embark on the path to immortality. Just as he was on the verge of death, his golden finger awakened. No matter whether it was poison, drained blood and vital energy, diminished lifespan, or any other physical debuff caused by paying a price—once midnight passed, everything would be refreshed. From then on, whenever someone asked what kind of person Chu Ran was, the answer was simple: Forbidden arts that other cultivators dared not learn? Chu Ran would learn them. Prices that even demonic cultivators dared not pay? Chu Ran would pay them. Lifespan that even righteous cultivators dared not burn? Chu Ran would burn it. All the blood essence in his body? Take it. Want both his hands and feet? He would cut them off and send them to you. You say he’s finished? He wasn’t built to sit idle. You think he’s gone mad? No—he was simply waiting for midnight. From that day onward, Chu Ran would respect neither Heaven nor Earth, bow to neither gods nor ghosts. He had only one wish: For midnight to arrive a little sooner.
