MTL - The Lucky Farmgirl has a Pocket Dimension - Chapter 340 to suzhou

Jianghu was in turmoil, an era of great strife. The leader of Great Qin wielded the Mo Blade, leaving the world battered and bruised. The ageless figures of Jianghu crouched upon the mountains, and with a single turn, they cast the entire world below them. Strong men measured the earth with their feet, and heroes of Jianghu could cleave the heavens with one sword, yet in the blink of an eye, they were drunk in the embrace of beauties. The Taoist carried his sword, the Scholar drunk on wine. Wearing tattered clothes, a beggar grasped a rotten branch and dared to storm the ancestral hall of the Taoist Sect. On the willow-lined causeway, in the long pavilion, a man who had sat withered for thirty years turned and stepped out, holding a peach blossom, with a flick of his wrist, he shattered ten miles of red candles. The era of Great Qin was renamed the Great Yuan Era. The youth with the Wooden Sword left his mountain village behind.

It was just a normal morning but it was unknown to many that the apocalypse already started.

The origin was not determined but the infected started to appear after a cosmic event happened just outside of the Earth’s atmosphere.

The people and animals turned into man-eating mutants and zombies while some of the lucky ones gained superhuman abilities. Every living creature that had not “turned” started to evolve as the whole world was affected by the Mutagen.

However, it seemed that Earth also had its hidden side that humans would discover in a very uncanny way.

And was Mutagen the last of it?

Unfortunately, not.

Follow Mark, an Otaku, a Gamer, and a Shut-in that got trapped in the middle of the apocalypse due to an uncanny reason. Using his unconventional thinking, knowledge, and abilities, how far can he go in surviving the apocalypse filled with zombies, mutated beings, and dangerous people as a survivor in a world that was changing for the worse.

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”

She woke up from her sleep to the divorce papers that the original owner’s husband tossed at her.