Chapter 1: Let Me Level Up

"Ouch, my god, senior brother, it hurts so much, use a bit more force, I'm about to collapse." On the training ground of the Holy Demon Sect, a seemingly sixteen or seventeen-year-old youth stood there, wailing miserably, but his pained expression revealed a hint of pleasure.

Lin Fan had a secret: he was not a native of this place but came from Earth, not as a soul穿越 but with his body brought along.

When he first arrived in this mysterious world, Lin Fan felt a mix of emotions—had he read novels? Every protagonist in those books was incredibly awesome, with power, status, wealth, and beautiful women at their fingertips.

With a shake of his body and a release of domineering aura, whether it was a sect master or a stunning beauty, they all obediently submitted at his feet.

But just as Lin Fan's daydream hadn't reached its end, he realized something was off—he was actually a punching bag for disciples to practice on in some demonic sect. When he learned this news, Lin Fan was utterly dumbfounded.

He had just transmigrated, how could he become a punching bag? This wasn't scientific.

Even if he were a waste, he'd accept it, but at least he should have a decent hidden identity.

But now he was just a punching bag for others to train on. This instantly made Lin Fan not want to say much more; he even secretly cried for several days in grief.

In his first year at the Holy Demon Sect, the still-dazed Lin Fan suffered inhumanely, almost beaten into a third-rate cripple.

If the Holy Demon Sect hadn't had some conscience and given the punching bags a body-tempering manual, he would have died long ago.

"Titanium-Grade Demon Body"

When he first got this body-tempering manual, Lin Fan was overjoyed—just look at the name, cool and domineering; wouldn't mastering it make him invincible?

But after he started practicing on his own, he realized it was completely a scam.

"Titanium-Grade Demon Body" had three layers, a body-tempering technique casually written by the founding ancestor of the Holy Demon Sect, a manual exclusive to punching bags.

Even if one reached the third layer, according to the manual, achieving the Titanium-Grade Demon Body only meant that disciples with real weapons could take him down with one slash.

But fortunately, heaven helps those who help themselves. Lin Fan's miserable fate moved the heavens, and on a dark, windy night, while sleeping, Lin Fan discussed life with the daughter of the Duke of Zhou and suddenly gained a data-based system.

Lin Fan studied it for a long time but didn't see any artificial intelligence like in the novels; he had to figure it out on his own.

As for this data-based system, Lin Fan didn't understand it at first, but later he found that under his character data panel, there was additional data for his cultivation of "Titanium-Grade Demon Body."

Originally, after finishing his punching bag duties each day, Lin Fan would immediately rush back to eat and cultivate. After all, if he didn't succeed in cultivating "Titanium-Grade Demon Body," who knew when someone with a heavy hand might kill him.

But now Lin Fan just waited for the disciples to beat him every day, then went back to sleep and indulge in his beautiful daydreams.

After Lin Fan called out languidly to the red-faced disciple, he pulled up the data panel and examined it carefully—with a bit more effort, "Titanium-Grade Demon Body" would reach level five.

As for the manual saying the peak was three layers, but he was almost at five layers—what was going on?

Name: Lin Fan.

Level: 1.

Experience: 0.

Technique: "Titanium-Grade Demon Body" Layer 4 (2000/3000).

...

Looking at his own data panel, Lin Fan felt it was somewhat shabby. His level had been stuck at 1 for a long time. As for leveling up, Lin Fan had thought about it but couldn't find a way.

He had been in this world for a year, though he hadn't left the Holy Demon Sect, he had inquired about the cultivation levels here.

Houtian, Xiantian, Rushen, Xiaotianwei, Datianwei...

Each level was divided into nine grades.

Lin Fan knew that this probably wasn't all, but who was he but a punching bag? Being able to find out this much was already pretty good.

"+1."

"+1."

"+1."

...

The experience for "Titanium-Grade Demon Body" slowly increased. Lin Fan looked at the sect disciple who was using all his strength and sighed—today was strange, encountering such a rookie disciple; each attack only added 1 experience point.

Moreover, the fists hitting his body were weak and feeble. Lin Fan even thought, hopefully, it won't stop giving experience...

Sure enough, speak of the devil.

"+0."

"+0."

...

Oh my god, this waste really can't do it anymore, no more experience gain. What's the point of this?

Lin Fan turned his head and looked at his fellow punching bag sufferers around him. They were wailing miserably, as if suffering the greatest harm in life.

In the Holy Demon Sect, if a punching bag was beaten to death by a disciple, no one cared; they just dug a hole and buried him.

"Why aren't you screaming?" At that moment, the disciple saw Lin Fan, who had been wailing earlier, now looking around, and felt a surge of anger. When the punching bag screamed in pain from his beating, even if he was tired, he felt excited, thinking he was very powerful.

But now he was furious.

Lin Fan, thinking he couldn't let the day go to waste, looked at the sect disciple and said, "Scream my ass. Acting is tiring, you know. Your fists are weak, like a girl's."

Hearing this insult, the sect disciple's face turned pale and then green, and his eyes became furious.

Lin Fan looked at the disciple's expression and couldn't help but laugh, "That expression is good acting. Go drink more milk; it's like a tickle."

"You... you." The sect disciple suddenly seemed unable to speak, his voice choking up. His originally fierce eyes suddenly turned watery.

"Wah... you're bullying me. My fists are not weak."

Lin Fan was instantly dumbfounded, watching the disciple run off the training ground crying loudly, and had nothing to say.

How could a demon sect disciple be so unable to take a hit?

Lin Fan shook his head, no longer paying attention to that guy, and had to find a way to level up quickly.

Level four "Titanium-Grade Demon Body" was already somewhat abnormal; he wondered what level five would be like.

Lin Fan stood there, chin in hand, looking at the sect disciples around him who were fiercely beating the punching bags, and a smile appeared on his lips.

It seemed he had to activate taunt mode.

Lin Fan took a deep breath and then shouted loudly.

"Everyone stop, I have something to say..."

This shout from Lin Fan could rival the Lion's Roar in novels. In Lin Fan's view, wasn't it just about who had the louder voice?

Back on Earth, he was the class leader for morning exercises; a loud voice was essential.

The sect disciples who were training on the punching bags stopped at the shout.

The battered punching bags looked at Lin Fan with black eyes and swollen faces, wondering what this fellow punching bag was up to.

Some punching bags took this chance to catch their breath, waiting for the next wave of attacks.

When would this kind of life ever end?

It was said that if one could cultivate "Titanium-Grade Demon Body" to the third layer, they could become an outer sect assessment disciple, like those who treated them as punching bags.

But thinking about it seemed impossible. Some old punching bags who had persisted for years had only barely reached the first layer of "Titanium-Grade Demon Body."

As for the third layer, it was as difficult as reaching the sky.

At this moment, the punching bags who were still recovering their breath were stunned when they heard the next sentence.

This guy was asking to be beaten to death.

"Don't look at me with confused eyes. To be frank, all of you here are trash in my eyes..." Lin Fan, with one hand behind his back, contemptuously beckoned to these outer sect assessment disciples.

...