MTL - Scoring the Sacred Body of the Ancients from the Get-go - Chapter 522 The third celestial energy, reincarnation celestial energy, Long Xuhuang’s confidence,...

In the Holy Grail War, who holds the artifact and beats everything?

Gilgamesh! It’s yellow hair! It’s yellow hair!

In the face of catastrophe, who can stand up and save the world?

Kurosaki Ichigo! Uzumaki Naruto! It’s yellow hair! It’s yellow hair! It’s yellow hair!

In front of the heroine, who can counterattack, the bull-headed protagonist?

It’s yellow hair! It’s yellow hair!

Who is Huangmao?

I am Huangmao!

- Description from novelbuddy

Mathew survived the entire two weeks of the apocalypse. A great score for someone blessed with brains over the brawn. Yet, even he fell after just fourteen days, giving his all to save the one person he cared for.

But why does a death looks like watching himself from the third person perspective? Is this the purgatory to watch over his own shoulders at the mistakes he made? A punishment for Mathew's sins to repeat those mistakes over and over again?

But wait, what are the three clocks in the corner of his vision, one of which only five minutes away from ticking out?

What would you do if you found yourself trapped in a world of a game?Would you panic?Rejoice?Just give up?This is a conundrum I found myself in after waking up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with no clue of how I got there.Magic powers?I had none of those…A cheat-like system?Nowhere to be found.All I possessed was a single skill that seemed meager at best…[ Shadow Manipulation ]

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.