Gou Zai Fei Men made up myths

My head is splitting with pain.

Shen Mo felt as if he had been thrown into a washing machine and tossed around for three days and three nights, and then forcibly stuffed into a strange body. Every bone in his body was groaning, and it seemed as if his flesh and skin were not his own.

He struggled to open his eyes, and it took him a while to focus.

The first thing you see is a dilapidated roof, barely supported by a few crooked beams, with spider webs swaying like tattered banners in the cold wind that blows through the room.

The air was filled with a musty, dusty smell mixed with a faint musty odor.

"Where...where am I?"

He struggled to sit up, but felt weak and sore all over, as if he had just recovered from a serious illness. Suddenly, fragments of memories that did not belong to him surged into his mind like a flood.

Qingyun Sect.

Sect Leader.

Mo Yuan.

Debt.

Run away...

These keywords constantly reminded him of his current situation.

He, Shen Mo, a seasoned game operations and brand planner from the 21st century, died from overwork and then transmigrated!

Moreover, he transmigrated into the body of the new sect leader of a dilapidated immortal cultivation sect called Qingyun Sect?

The original owner's name was also coincidentally Shen Mo.

But this Shen Mo is not that Shen Mo. The original owner was just an average young man with a timid personality, but his unreliable master Mo Yuan forced him into the position of sect leader before he ran away. As a result, he was scared to death when faced with a mess and a vicious person who came to collect debts!

Then he came.

"This is outrageous!" Shen Mo almost spat out a mouthful of blood. Other people who transmigrate are either princes or nobles of a dynasty, or rich young masters, or at the very least, genius disciples of a sect with some background...

He, on the other hand, had a hellish start, taking over a sect that was on the verge of bankruptcy, heavily indebted, and on the verge of collapse!

He looked around. This so-called "Sect Leader's Hall" was practically bare, even using the phrase "bare walls" would be an understatement.

Besides the creaking, broken wooden bed beneath him, there was only a table with a crooked leg and an oil lamp on it, the oil almost gone.

The walls were mottled, revealing the yellow mud underneath, and a cold wind whistled straight in.

"Being a sect leader is even worse than being a programmer in Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, or Shenzhen..." Shen Mo was practically on the verge of tears.

Although he was also troubled in his previous life, at least he had air conditioning and takeout. Unlike now, he started with an extreme survival challenge.

He forced himself to calm down. As a former senior strategist, analyzing the situation and finding a way out were fundamental skills. The more desperate the situation, the less he could afford to lose his composure.

First, he needs to figure out the specific situation.

He forced himself to get out of bed, enduring the discomfort. His bare feet stomped on the cold floor, raising goosebumps. He was wearing a rough linen shirt, which chafed his skin until it stung.

Just as he was trying to sort out the chaotic memories in his mind, a commotion arose outside the hall, mixed with rude rebukes and cowardly explanations.

"Get out of the way! Let that brat Shen Mo come out here! If you don't pay back the money today, don't blame me for tearing down these dilapidated houses!"

"Manager Wang...the sect leader is unwell, please grant him a few more days..." a young voice pleaded, his voice trembling with tears.

"Grace period? How many times have I given you grace periods? That old bastard Mo Yuan has vanished without a trace, leaving you bunch of crooks to pay off the debt?"

"If you don't come up with five hundred low-grade spirit stones today, we'll hand over this wretched mountain to Black Wind Stronghold as collateral to pay off our debt!"

Shen Mo's heart sank. Oh no, the creditors are here! Black Wind Stronghold—just the name sounds ominous.

Five hundred low-grade spirit stones? You wouldn't even be worth that much if you sold him!

He took a deep breath, knowing that hiding was pointless. Since he had inherited this body and this mess, he had to face reality.

After straightening his wrinkled "Sect Leader's Robe" (which was hardly better than beggar's clothes), Shen Mo straightened his back, pushed open the creaking wooden door that looked like it might fall apart at any moment, and walked out.

Outside the door, the scene was even more desolate.

In a small courtyard overgrown with weeds taller than a person, three young men dressed in patched gray robes were surrounded by several fierce-looking, burly men.

The leader was a fat man wearing a silk shirt and sporting two mustaches. He was holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hand and was angrily spitting as he spoke.

The burly men behind him, each with a ghost-head saber at their waist and bulging temples, were clearly trained martial artists. The faint fluctuations of spiritual energy emanating from them indicated they were at the early stage of Qi Refining.

As for his three disciples, their condition was even more appalling.

Standing at the front was a dark-skinned, muscular boy, about sixteen or seventeen years old, named Shi Tie, who was the eldest disciple besides him, the "master".

He was clenching his fists, his face flushed red, standing in front of the other two. Although he was afraid, his eyes revealed a stubbornness.

Hiding behind him, trembling, was a girl who looked only eleven or twelve years old, named A Yuan. She was as thin as a bean sprout, with a hint of childishness on her face, and tears welled up in her eyes. She was the third disciple that her master, Mo Yuan, had brought back from his travels several years ago, and she was also the youngest.

Beside her was a girl, about fifteen or sixteen years old, named Su Xiao, the sect's second senior sister. She wasn't crying; her big eyes shone with intelligence, but she was also biting her lip tightly, her face pale.

This... is all the wealth of the Qingyun Sect? Shen Mo's lips twitched.

When Manager Wang saw Shen Mo finally emerge, he immediately rolled his triangular eyes, pointed the note at Shen Mo's nose, and cursed from afar:

"Oh ho? So Master Shen has finally decided to crawl out of his shell? What, didn't he run away with his deadbeat master?"

Suppressing his panic and urge to complain, Shen Mo forced a calm expression (which others might perceive as numbness), cupped his hands in greeting, and mimicked the etiquette from his memory. He then asked in a deep voice, seemingly oblivious, "Manager Wang, what brings you to my Qingyun Sect with such a commotion?"

"What is it?" Manager Wang asked as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world. He stepped forward, almost shoving the note into Shen Mo's face, and said with a dark expression,

"Look! It's all in black and white! Your deadbeat master, Mo Yuan, personally signed it! He owes us Black Wind Stronghold five hundred low-grade spirit stones, and with interest compounding, it's now eight hundred spirit stones! If you can't come up with it today, hehe..."

He gave a sinister smile, his gaze sweeping over the dilapidated hall and the three emaciated disciples:

"We'll use your lousy sect to pay off our debts! You lot, the men can be forced into hard labor in the mines, and the women can be sold into brothels; that might earn you a few bucks!"

Shi Tie roared, "You dare!" and was about to rush forward to fight, but Shen Mo held him down.

Shen Mo's heart sank to the bottom. Eight hundred spirit stones! This was an astronomical figure for him at the moment!

In the original owner's memory, the Qingyun Sect couldn't even afford ten spirit stones now.

He quickly scanned the IOU; the contents were genuine, and it did indeed bear Mo Yuan's mark. But the problem was, Mo Yuan, the creditor, had absconded, leaving the debt on Shen Mo's shoulders?!

What to do? Fight them head-on? The other side has a large number of people and is obviously skilled in martial arts, while our side consists of the elderly, weak, sick, and young. If we fight, we'll just be feeding the enemy.

Begging for mercy? Judging from Steward Wang's demeanor, there was absolutely no room for compromise.

Does this mean that I'll have to experience the brutal beatings of the underworld in another world right after transmigrating, or even worse?

Shen Mo's mind raced. In his previous life, he was involved in event planning and often faced unexpected situations and difficult clients, which honed his ability to remain calm even when faced with a major crisis (at least on the surface).

He took a breath, his face showing no fear, but rather a profound calmness (actually, a numb despair), and slowly said, "Manager Wang, please calm down."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a strange calmness that immediately silenced the noisy scene.

Manager Wang was taken aback, clearly not expecting this reaction from the usually timid young man. He narrowed his eyes, a mocking look on his face: "What? Sect Leader Shen has returned the spirit stones?"

Shen Mo did not answer directly, but stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping over the dilapidated courtyard, finally landing on the half-person-high, moss-covered, broken stone lion at the gate, revealing a thoughtful expression.

His attitude left Manager Wang completely baffled.

Shen Mo was internally screaming: System! Cheat! Grandpa! Just give me anything! If this doesn't come soon, I'm really doomed!

Perhaps it heard his inner cry, or perhaps it was the reward for time travel that finally arrived.

The moment his gaze fixed on the stone lion—

【Ding! 】

A crisp, melodious notification sound, like celestial music, echoed deep within his mind:

[The host's strong will to survive and desire to revitalize the sect have been detected, meeting the binding requirements...]

[Mythology compilation system is being activated...]

[Binding successful! Host: Shen Mo.]

Shen Mo: "!!!"

It's here! The standard equipment for time travelers—it may be late, but it's finally here!