I Became an Academy Counselor - Chapter 51: Mistake

When Chen Ren transmigrated as a trouble-making young master in a world of cultivation overrun by sects, beasts and clans full of murderous people, he wanted nothing to do with it. He simply wanted to make money. After all, even in a world of magical murderhobos, money reigned supreme.Ignoring the numerous martial daos, he chose the dao of money which lets him reach higher cultivation realms, the better his businesses do. Using his brains and earthly knowledge, he build businesses and acquire resources to reach immortality. But before that, he had to deal with a mountain of debt, the cultivators who wanted to kill him and deciding on his first business idea.***What to expect -1. Lots of businesses and mc getting rich. 2. A highly competent main character. 3. An interesting Cultivation journey. 4. Mysteries. 5. Face slapping.6. Sect building.7. Cats.8. Average 3k words chaptersWhat not to expect -1. Harem 2. Not catsInspired by Black Market Litrpg, Laws of Cultivation and Calculating Cultivation.

Collecting legendary antiques, retracing the mysterious martial arts. From the moment he activated his cheat, Casio knew that he was no longer ordinary.[Legendary Antiques: Wind Elephant Ivory Pendant]Seventy years ago, in the North Flow Country of the Hong Li Federation, at the Wind Elephant Gate Youth Training Camp.“Li Wei, you are a coward! On the day your sister was brutally murdered, you were trembling in a corner! On the night of the Sect Destruction War, you disgracefully fled! During the many long years of revenge, you missed the opportunity again and again!”“Now let me teach you what bravery is, let me tell you how to turn suffering into your power. I hope at the moment you behead your enemy, you will remember: you are a man, an upright man!”The taboo era, hidden legends. A Foggy continent paralyzed by the sealed land. Countless brilliant antiquities wail in the ruins.I will witness your lost legends in the mist, the knights in the sky, the ghosts in the desert, the rats in the mud. The direction of sword fights points to the light, and flowers will grow where bullets fall. The winds of history will eventually sweep away the rubbish from the era's gravesite.

When I was 15-years-old, during the year that I graduated from middle school, my father told me this.

Reborn as a sword, he lived for hundreds of years, and then he occupied the body of a 15-year-old prince.