whimsical_clown

"Sect Master! Marry me!"

If only things were that simple.

Fang Yuan lets out a long sigh, eyes fixed on the mountain of paperwork threatening to swallow his desk and his soul. 

As the youngest family head in history, you’d think he’d be enjoying fame, fortune, and fawning admirers. 

Instead, he’s buried in bureaucracy, stuck mediating elder disputes, and wondering if the sect treasury mysteriously eats spirit stones.

Sure, the old geezers have their experience, their beards, and their lofty reputations. 

But Fang Yuan? He has one thing they don’t: raw, unshakable power.

Born into a world where innate talent reigns supreme, Fang Yuan—a transmigrator armed with modern grit—actually managed the impossible: he clawed his way to the top with nothing but relentless hard work. 

While everyone else coasted on heavenly bloodlines and golden physiques, he trained, he studied, and he schemed.

Now, he’s strong enough to bend heaven’s will.

But cultivation isn’t all sword beams and glory. 

Life as a family head comes with its own set of woes—namely, watching his annoyingly handsome junior brother collect all the female attention like some kind of walking romance novel.

“This isn’t fair,” Fang Yuan mutters under his breath, stamping another scroll. “I’m the protagonist here... right?”

#noNTR #noLemonJustFadeToBlack 

this novel officially began its journey on 24th of June. Thank you for supporting me so far.

Clan Building System: I'm not the Protagonist?!

With no further words, she pushed off the ground.

Under her control, she moved like lightning cloaked in silk.

She vanished in a blur, the ground cracking faintly beneath her as her momentum surged forward.

One step, two steps, each one tighter and faster than the last, barely visible to the untrained eye.

A streak of silver and scarlet swept across the stage, her sword raised, burning with residual flame from the earlier exchange.

Wind howled in her wake, spinning her long sleeves like battle flags.

"Fast," she muttered and then bent backward with impossible grace, letting Fang Mei's sword skim past a hair's breadth from her nose.

Fang Mei twisted in mid-air, landing low and sliding to the side, skidding in an arc before rebounding again.

Tyrant Light Sword—First Form: Divine Line!

Wu Min [2]