Immortality: Raising an Ant Queen to Cultivate by increasing stat points - Chapter 431 - 423 Timid as a Mouse_1

A cursed CD game falls from the sky. I boot it up, build a ridiculously handsome villain with broken talents, and just as I hit “Start”—boom, I get electrocuted.Now I’ve reincarnated as Lucien Caelum Valebrandt, a six-year-old noble and the infamous villain who helped the Abyssians win the last war.Every 500 years, the Abyssian King is reborn. But when the 16 chosen heroes of this generation lost against the battle of the Abyssian King because of my character, the Goddess panicked—and rewound time.Now those same heroes remember everything… and they want me dead.Even though I just got here.All I wanted was to play a game. Now I’m the villain blamed for destroying the world.

“I have to squander; otherwise, won’t it be a waste of my parent’s talent at earning money?” Hong Dali answers a reporter’s question matter-of-factly.

Just after the interview ends, Hong Dali opens the Great Prodigal System’s interface and looks at the various good stuff displayed in it. Stroking his chin, he mumbles to himself, “I just need to squander 200 billion yuan more to exchange for the blueprint of the core technology, Engine Destruction, found in the strongest humanoid mecha weapon, Neo Granzon. Looks like I’ll have to work harder!”

“I want to splurge! I want to squander!”

- Description from Novelupdates

Xu Yiren, who has 300,000 fans, scolded Song Tianmei, a new traffic flower with more than 5 million fans, on Weibo: “Who in China doesn’t know that Gu Yu is your backstage!” People are sitting at home, and the pot is coming from the sky.

Gu Yu: “Excuse me?”

Three months later, Gu Yu put his hand on Xu Yiren’s side and said softly, “I have never been the backstage of anyone in my life, but from today onwards, I will be your backstage.”

- Description from Novelupdates

In the Kunlun Snow Palace, a sage once said, those who pass away wander, while the living cannot let go.Once the soul departs, it will wither like the autumn grass.Those who are reborn from the dead, existing apart from the mortal realm, shall be shunned by all celestial sects and smitten as undead demons.On this day, a youth awakens from within a coffin, his blood dry and his bones chilled, to find himself a century old upon opening his eyes.A single tear from a sage awaited, a constant companion, may unravel the dreams of the past.Seeking not immortality but a mundane death, not to lament with the ages over lost love and resentment, but only wishing to grow old with tenderness in this lifetime, beneath the white clouds that hold no envy for the heavenly realms.