Cultivation: I Inherite The Strongest Account In A Sect Simulator - Chapter 208

Qiao Yanzhou is a video gaming streamer.

Gu Zixing is a professional gamer.

Qiao Yanzhou is a big fan of Gu Zixing.

Gu Zixing is Qiao Yanzhou’s idol.

Qiao Yanzhou is a quiet fan.

Gu Zixing is a cool and charming man.

Qiao Yanzhou is a couch potato.

Gu Zixing is a world champion.

A ranked game brought the two together, and the chemistry between them takes an unexpected turn…..

Not long after:

Gu Zixing: Xiao-Qiao, am I still your idol?

Qiao Yanzhou: Yeah.

Gu Zixing: Can I kiss you then?

Qiao Yanzhou: Sorry, who did you say you were?

- Description from Novelupdates

Being raised by witches wasn't the end!It was the beginning for Menma's life as he had to deal with humans that hate the witches.And also travel across different dimensions to fight against unnatural beings that threatened his family.----------------------------------------------------Author here : if you enjoy reading a fresh unique new story, give mine a go.If you like it... perfectif you don't... tell me what i can do to improve itenjoy ;)

The Special Investigations Unit is a covert organisation that no-one in the city knows about, dedicated to investigating bizarre occurrences beyond the comprehension of the living. The Chief Zhao Yunlan isn’t a simple guy either, being the inheritor of the Guardian Order, he has always been a righteous conformist, excelling between realms of the living and the dead. While investigating a school suicide case, Zhao is attracted to the calm and reserved Professor Shen Wei, but the Professor seems to be rather fickle towards him…

- Description from Novelupdates

[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.