Martial Arts Master - Chapter 642 - Miraculous Feats

“These are my conditions. You have to agree upon them before we can get married.”“Accepted. Each one of them is accepted. Any more conditions, soon to be wife?”“Yes, I want your help to destroy my jerk of an ex-boyfriend.”A sly smile appeared on the lips of the men sitting opposite her.“With pleasure.” How could he let his competitor stay unharmed? He would be having his own fun in destroying the man who had made him taste vinegar a lots of times.“Something as?”Before she could even shake her head, he stood up from his seat and held her hand. “Let's go.”“Where are we going?”“Civil affairs bureau. Any time later and it will be closed.”Xin Mei looked at the man with wide eyes, and before she could comprehend, she was sitting in civil affairs bureau with a marriage license in her hand.****Xin Mei woke up from coma after 3 weeks of long sleep. She faced a brutal reality like every other female lead; her boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend. Feeling vengeful, she decided to have her revenge.It's payback time.“She snatched my boyfriend; I will snatch her career from her.”“He rejected me. No problem. I will find a more handsome man than him.”“His father made my father beg; now I will make him beg.”And who will help her? Su Yuchen!Su Yuchen believed that a person can fall in love only once and he had already fallen in it. His belief was broken badly when he met Xin Mei. After tasting a lot of vinegar, he could not wait for another second to make her his wife. He could not lose his second inning in love.

Can't a man maintain his dignity while preparing for the end of the world? Is that too much to ask?

The Tower was all I knew... all any of us knew, and just like that, it was gone. Monsters the likes of which I'd never seen ravaged the land of my ancestors. They burst through the outer walls and stormed the city. No one could have been ready for that. But now... Now I have a second chance.

After the collapse of the known world, I woke up to find myself on the First Floor of the Tower. I was young and healthy, 18 again, and sitting in the same classroom that marked the worst days of my life. Confused and excited, I accepted this gift, deciding to use my vast knowledge of the future to climb the Tower in preparation for the end of the world.

Maybe I'll help some folks along the way? Who knows. Survival comes first.

The clock is ticking, and I'm left with only a century to build a Deck powerful enough to survive the end. Things to do... What's first? I need Essence, and I need power. I'll have to climb the Tower to acquire both of these. Some of the zealots will try to stop me, need to look out for those. What if-

“Hey, kid! Hand over the pouch or-”

Stab

Sorry, where was I? Ah... there's a spot of blood on my suit. What a lousy morning.

In this world of blood and fantasy, century-old Rowan Wilder has to not only survive, but thrive as he powers his way to the top of the Tower. The Demonic Plague that has twisted the creatures on the upper Floors is the least of his worries. Cane in hand and Summons by his side, he'll have to tear his way through the monsters, as well as the humans who want to stop his ascent. Of course, he can maintain a sense of decorum while he faces these trials, right?

“Y-young master, the Lord is requesting your presence.”

I looked at myself in the mirror as a maid's voice, laced with trepidation, reached my ears.

“Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

“I understand, y-young master.”

I paid no mind to her quivering presence, my gaze fixed on my reflection.

And this is exactly why I despise this character, Yes, He is a villain with my name but does it matter, no, the problem is this guy's weight he is so heavy that this tub of lard is weighing me down, literally.

For someone who prides themselves on muscle, nothing's worse than “fat,” and this guy before me? Well, he's a prime example of that.

“I suppose I need a workout.”

Reaching the door, exhaustion gripped me and I found myself gasping for breath. It was unbelievable – this body was so darn heavy.

After an arduous struggle, I finally made my way out of the room, causing servants carrying a litter¹ to scurry over. They lowered it, creating a path for me to step onto it.

I tried to ignore the spectacle – it was this pampering that turned this fatty into a giant tire. Pushing the annoyance aside, I began to move, managing only about 10 steps before my legs gave out.

Damn it. Seriously? I collapsed, leaving the twenty servants to hastily lift me and place me onto the litter. For me, it felt more like a stretcher. There I was, sprawled on it like some mountain, panting heavily.

“You damn god! I hope the protagonist of your favorite novel gets NTRed!”

“We're here, young master.”

Can you believe it? his father's office is just thirty steps away from this pumpkin room, yet he insists on using a litter.

“Give me a hand.”

I ordered while cursing this hefty body under my breath.

“Oh, come, come, my dear child. How was your day?”

I glanced at the middle-aged man, his face exuding warmth and care.

As for my feelings? This old man right here is the reason this chubby exists. Not that I give a darn about my indulgent father.

“I'm alright, Dad.”

Yes, imagine this: as a noble, this old man spoiled this pumpkin so much that he thinks he can go around scolding the mansion's maids and servants.

“Take a seat. Hey, fetch his chair!”

You might wonder why he doesn't sit on a regular chair. Well, that's because the chair is custom-made to accommodate this hippo-sized frame.

“What's going on, Dad?”

Seriously, why would he summon this big old hippo over to his quarters? There's gotta be a reason for it....

“Your fiancee is coming tomorrow”

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

In a world of shallow-minded, materialistic mortals, what would one from humble beginnings – whose face had been stomped on, spat on, oppressed for the longest while by the arrogant, pampered upper echelons of society – do, when a mysterious application pops up on a brand new phone that was meant to be the birthday gift of an ungrateful girlfriend? What if the application takes the form of a chatroom where its occupants, bearing the names of mythical, fictional beings, start giving out ‘Red Packets’, all the while spouting nonsense?