MTL - Country Weapon - Chapter 295 nice...

Li Wei accidentally obtained a simulator that allowed him to manage a family of cultivators. He discovered that the descendants in the game would offer him strange and unique sacrifices.“Thanks to the ancestor for the gift, our family has become the most powerful family!”“Hurry up and offer a sacrifice to the ancestor. Please accept this spiritual weapon!”“Ancestor, we have already conquered the immortal world!”Then, one day, the descendants of the Li family, who had been in the game, appeared on Earth in grand flying boats. Under the astonished eyes of the entire world, these descendants paid homage to Li Wei in great numbers.“Welcome our ancestor home!”

“Each betrayal leaves a scar… and hers ran the deepest.”Once, Aveline Laurent gave her heart to Damien Ashford - the man who promised her a future, only to cage her with sweet lies.She endured it all with a smile… until fate dragged her back to the very beginning.Now, with a second chance hanging by a fragile thread, Aveline returns.Not to plead, but to punish.
Not to forget, but to make him remember.But revenge is never simple. The path is fraught with shadows—and an unlikely ally–Alaric Lancaster–whose loyalties remain as mysterious as his gaze.

Shen Huai was abandoned by his artists, and took over one who no one was optimistic about net black newcomer Ye Cang.

Ye Cang caught fire all over the country. Everyone else thinks it’s Shen Huai tune. Only Shen Huai knows. His artist is a superstar reborn. Later, Shen Huai gathered again-“the legendary film queen of the period of the Republic of China,” the unsurpassed “Golden supporting role” in the history of China, “the Queen of Love songs popular all over the country in the Last Century,” and “the greatest superstar in a hundred years.” he breathed a sigh of relief: I don’t have to go back and inherit tens of billions of dollars

[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.