Adopting and Raising the Male Lead and the Villain - Chapter 282

Shen Dongqing is a powerful, thousand-year-old ghost. He had just possessed a body and hadn’t even relaxed for two days yet when he was pulled into a white, parallel world.

On the first day of the Infinite Nightmare Game:
Other players tremble, crying and wailing wanting to go home.
Shen Dongqing eats, sleeps, and plays ‘Fight the Landlord’ (card game).

The second day:
Other players are chased endlessly by ghosts, crying loudly ‘Save me!’
Shen Dongqing eats, sleeps, and plays ‘Fight the Landlord’.

The third day.
Shen Dongqing……
The ghosts finally set their sights on this lazy player. The other players watch on in glee. As a result, who knew that this slim and pale youth would stand up and easily dispatched the ghosts with his bare hands.

Other ghosts: Can’t afford to disrupt this elder. Let’s go, let’s go.

- Description from Novelupdates

“I lost everything again...?”Kain had to work hard to feed himself, in a small village on the edge of the forbidden lands. Unlike the others, he hated Keepers, the only people capable of fighting the creatures from the Astral Dimension. Everyone saw them as heroes, but Kain blamed them for the greatest tragedy of his life - the death of his parents.Ironically, the sacrifice of one Keeper allowed Kain to obtain a Rune Brand - the key to begin a trial, the outcome was either power or death.Facing another world, Kain discovered that his blood was cursed, and misfortune would always haunt him.But death would avoid Kain, wanting to keep such a valuable sacrifice for a god. Only failure would await him, but if it was possible death would pass by.Now, Kain must break his curse and take fate into his own hands for the first time in his life or remain a nameless offering.

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.