Transmigrated? Brothel Management System?!

Liu Zichu, 22 years old, a fresh university graduate—he'd been smart since childhood.

Though the name Liu Zichu sounded a bit feminine, it worked fine for a man too, and Liu Zichu quite liked it. It had a literary flair that matched his refined temperament perfectly.

But for some reason—no one knew when it started—"niuzi" had become slang for a man's cock. So his name's homophone turned into "niuzi cu," or "thick cock." He thought, This is fucking insulting to my dignity.

Liu Zichu came from a massive business clan that owned 80% of the city's hotels—a born rich second-gen.

Logically, with his background, he could've done nothing his whole life and still lived in luxury.

He could've been like his uncles' kids, blowing cash like water, chasing skirts nonstop—groping the teacher's ass one day, pounding the campus beauty's slutty hole the next, then getting dragged off to the backroom by the uncles, forcing his parents to shell out tears and cash ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for bail.

Liu Zichu had no idea why rich kids had to act like idiots, but his cousins really had pulled that kind of stupid shit.

He looked down on it—not because he was some saint averse to women. Liu Zichu knew he wasn't a gentleman. Back in eighth grade, faced with a beautiful senior's blatant confession and forceful kiss, the naive, world-inexperienced boy fell hard.

He was passive, helpless. She stripped his pants off against his will—he got raped. The moment her little mouth wrapped around his cock, he lost all power to resist.

Until he'd fucked his now-girlfriend senior from eighth to ninth grade, only for her to suddenly vanish from his life.

He later learned she'd been busted multiple times for prostitution. A john who escaped said they were mid-gangbang—six guys with their cocks still buried in her three holes—when the cops burst in. The dicks in her pussy, ass, and mouth went limp on the spot from sheer terror.

When Liu Zichu heard, his heart shattered, his worldview collapsed. He'd suspected she approached him for his money.

But she was so proactive—her mouth and pussy felt so good wrapped around his cock—that he figured spoiling her with pocket change was fair.

Who could've guessed she was a hooker? A repeat offender who took multiple guys ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at once, even in the ass—which he'd never even tried.

When his second uncle's kid bragged to others about how great it felt fucking that whore, how slutty she looked getting gangbanged, Liu Zichu vowed never to love again.

Yes, the guys balls-deep in his girlfriend? His second cousin and his buddies. Different schools, so the cousin didn't recognize her.

The cousin had already blown his load in her ass and was resting nearby—that's how he slipped away when the cops kicked in the door.

Liu Zichu's heart twisted. That was his cousin—could he really blame him?

Blame him for gangbanging his girl with the crew? But the cousin didn't know, and neither did he—that his stunning senior was a whore who could handle a gang at once.

Feeling helpless and heartbroken, Liu Zichu quietly snitched on his cousin, letting the family cry and pay to bail him out.

After that, he embraced a loveless life—cold to women, burying himself in studies, spitting on girls who threw themselves at him.

He often pondered life's meaning, birthing a dream.

Post-graduation, he'd strike out solo—head to a city beyond the family shadow, earn his first pot of gold with his genius brain and market savvy, build his own business empire.

As the saying goes: Don't fear rich kids whoring it up—fear them wanting to entrepreneur. His dream terrified the family.

They were heartbroken. "You're smart—keep studying! Tired of books? Go party like the rest. Entrepreneurship? You've lost your mind!"

But Liu Zichu didn't care. With top grades, he graduated—ready to launch his brilliant life—when a bolt from the blue struck him down, reducing him to ash.

Liu Zichu croaked. Dead without a corpse, scattered to the winds, not a trace left.

……

Atop a quaint mountain hut amid picturesque ridges, Liu Zichu gazed at the ancient-style city in the distance, eyes full of resentment and unwillingness.

He wore rough cyan cloth robes cinched with hemp rope, hair loose over his shoulders, expression dazed, lips twitching.

The once-dream-filled genius grad now looked every bit the ancient peasant farmer.

Liu Zichu closed his eyes, inhaled deeply—air fresher than any modern city—then exhaled slowly, opening them again.

"Say that again," he muttered bitterly to himself. "What system did you say? I didn't catch it."

Liu Zichu sucked in a cold breath, cutting off the voice in his head. "The fuck? Explain clearly—what system are you?!"

Liu Zichu shut his eyes in despair, tears nearly spilling.

Then he glared, roaring viciously: "Six months! Six fucking months! You know what I've been through? I busted my ass on tasks to activate you, and you tell me you're a Brothel Management System?!"

When he first heard the system's name, Liu Zichu nearly lost it. Transmigration? Fine. Told he'd need trials to activate? Endured it.

Hey, he was isekai'd—roll with the absurdity. A system? Gold. Trials? Weird, but legendary systems were real.

But after six months of bizarre forced tasks, the ding announced success. He was thrilled.

He figured lightning had zapped him here. The hut, distant city, passing villagers—all screamed ancient era.

Then one day, he saw two guys sword-fighting in the sky—no wires. A sword beam sheared off a mountaintop.

Liu Zichu nearly pissed himself. Fuck ancient China—people that OP?

Later, the system explained: xianxia world. Cultivators flew, wielded godlike power.

Trials passed, he'd get top techniques, divine weapons, flight, moon-grabbing, whatever—ultimate power.

"I'm about to cultivate immortality!"

Even with his high IQ, accepting this took time.

Once he did, six months familiarizing... the mountain. System confined him till trials ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠done.

He'd seen cultivators zip overhead multiple times—proof of flight, fueling his activation drive.

Trials cleared. System activated.

Not OP system, not invincible warrior goldfinger—but a goddamn Brothel Management System? Manage your mom's brothel!

Making him do hundreds of pushups/squats daily, endless hill sprints, farm veggies...

He thought it tested aptitude—cultivation valued talent, but effort moved heavens. He trained hard.

Trial passed: brothel system. Heartbroken.

Liu Zichu sighed deeply. "System, be real—who made your ass and dumped you here to screw me?"

System: "……"

Silence.

"Sigh..."

Wooden boat sailed—no refunds, no customer service.

He stabilized. Liu Zichu's strength: top adaptability.

Like accepting his senior was a whore after brief grief—then that she got gangbanged post-dating him, including by his cousin. He snitched calmly.

Cousin paid to gangbang his slutty hooker girl—didn't know the connection. No big grudge; report and done.

So, accepting this wonky system, he calmed. IQ kicked in—and he shuddered.

Brothel Management System. Did this mean... open a brothel?

Genius college grad transmigrates to xianxia, opens brothel—modern headlines would feed shock-bloggers for years.

He smirked. System went quiet—why guess? Ask.

"System, specifics—what do you do?"

Seconds ticked. Then:

Liu Zichu nodded, waiting. Silence stretched.

"And...?"

Liu Zichu: "???"

Retard system?

"Goals mean shit! Tasks? Rewards? How? Steps? What do I do next—tell me!"

Snitch vibes surged—he'd been scammed.

Silence. Then:

He shelved beefing with the dumb system—curiosity won. "View."

A panel projected in his mind: three icons—【Task List】【Prostitute List】【Mall List】.

Local script, but system let him read it effortlessly.

Mind-click: Task List.

Liu Zichu blinked. Chunxue City—that distant city, mid-sized. He'd gazed longingly, system-blocked.

System handed a shop—remodel into functional brothel.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

His brothel knowledge? Limited. Decor aside—needed prostitutes. One or two? Guests would fight over 'em.

Where get girls? Frowning, he scrolled.

Next: Newbie Tasks.

Liu Zichu blinked. Prostitutes had grades? Made sense—courtesans, top flowers.

Flash: His senior—what grade? Handled six guys at once, ass too—high-tier?

Unknown grading. Scrolled—and nearly popped a boner.

Liu Zichu gasped. Holy shit...

Speechless. Text too stimulating—cock twitched instinctively. Imagining it, he sensed his life veering wildly off rails, dignity included.

But... brothel needs girls. Testing his own? No biggie.

Never claimed sainthood. Deflowered in eighth grade, "raped" by hot senior for a year—sex appealed.

She scarred him deep—women just gold-diggers—so he went monk-mode, studies numbing the pain.

Didn't kill his libido.

Now: Own brothel, fuck girls freely—they're his. System unorthodox... but acceptable.

Heart raced, cheeks flushed, cock hardened—tenting pants.

Hand pressed it down. Continued.

No more newbie tasks—complete for out-of-tutorial?

Prostitute List: Empty. No girls yet.

Mall:

Liu Zichu blinked. Slim mall, but "to be updated" promised more.

Vibrators? Anal plugs? Whips? No comment—did they fit xianxia? Whatever.

Techniques: Qi Absorption, Body Forging—real cultivation?!

Imagined himself flying like those overhead cultivators, that bisected peak nearby...

Deep breath. Expensive!!!

All newbie tasks maxed: 30 coins. Basics at 50? No dice.

But system ruled. Newbie phase—more earnings ahead. Real shot at power.

Run brothel to grow strong? Fuck girls freely—his girls. Deal!