Heavenly Demon Cultivation Simulation - Chapter 358

For the sake of his family, Ren embarked on the popular VRMMORPG, COVENANT, that used real-time in-game currency. But being a mediocre player who only knows how to gather information, he was put in a supporting role.

As the game explodes in popularity and every multibillion-dollar company invested in the game, things have turned for the worse for Ren. Due to the amount of information he gathered, the cheats, secrets, quests, and bugs he discovered, he was silent in fear of selling the information to the other guilds.

But given a second chance, he went back in time when his father was still alive and COVENANT was just in its starting phase.

This time . . . he wouldn’t be that guy on the side who gathered information from day in and day out for ten years.

Equipped with the games knowledge he accumulated, he will become . . . an Alchemist!

Chrono Mage? Djin Master? Summoner? Necromancer?
Chaos Lord?

What good are those?

Sure they’re powerful and rare classes and sought after by guilds, but it’s the alchemist who forged artifacts and concocts rare items and potions that gets the most coins at the end of the day!

It was better than being a blacksmith or a crafter! Plus, he could use all sorts of magic without limit to race and class!

It was the ultimate class! And no one even knows it!

Deng Shirong was reborn and returned to the summer of 1980.

In the previous life, because I believed the matchmaker’s words easily, several of my children’s marriages were unhappy. My two sons-in-law were unable to support me, and my several daughters-in-law made the family a mess.

In this life, he will personally take action to find partners for his children.

A few years later, when I got together with some old friends, when they talked about whether their daughters-in-law were filial or not, Deng Shirong didn’t say anything. He just posted a WeChat Moments message in front of several old friends, saying Suddenly I want to eat Guilin’s beer fish.

The next moment, several daughters-in-law living in different cities called him in turn:

Eldest daughter-in-law: “Dad, I will drive back to pick you up on Saturday to travel to Guilin. I haven’t eaten authentic beer fish in a long time!”

Second daughter-in-law: “Dad, I happen to have nothing to do right now. I will drive back to pick you up. Let’s go to Guilin for a few days together.”

Third daughter-in-law: “Dad, my company still has some things to deal with. I’ll ask the driver to pick you up first…”

Fourth daughter-in-law: “…”

Young daughter-in-law: “…”

Several old friends were stunned and their eyes were red with envy!

[This book mainly describes the customs and customs of the rural areas of Bobai County, Guangxi in the 1980s. It focuses on matchmaking + food + daily life. It has a strong local flavor, real prices, and a reasonable plot. It requires careful appreciation, and those who are impetuous should beware]

ps: There is an old book “I don’t accept anyone as a matchmaker” with a high order of 35,000+. If you are interested, you can check it out!

- Description from novelbuddy

The word defeat did not exist for Wei Congying in his relationships.

But the biggest joke was after the prodigal son returned and realized he was someone else’s stand-in.

Three years after breaking up, while sitting in a fast food place in the Isle of Mann, he saw her and discovered an something even more laughable…

He was still in love with this heartless person.

- Description from Novelupdates

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”