Natural Disasters Strikes: I stockpiled like crazy! - Chapter 183: Nine-Tiered Body Refining Pagoda

A different adventure novel!

[You have become the first ever Player of Life in human history.]

-What did I just see? He can see the flu virus?

-The cell he made grew in the culture medium. This really looks like an embryonic stem cell… Is this true?

Leukemia, dementia, schizophrenia, lung cancer, and pancreatic cancer…

‘Can I overcome it all?’

[Of course.]

A confident message popped up.

Rosaline, the living cell that had become a part of his body.

With this cell, any research he did was nothing but successful!

His story of overcoming all diseases and illnesses begins here.

Disclaimer: Please do not take any medical advice from this novel or any other web novels.

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Tang Zhou dreamed that he was cannon fodder in a novel.

Because of prejudice, he misunderstood and hurt the villain, and later was framed by his illegitimate younger brother and became impoverished.

After waking up from his dream, he looked at the innocent and harmless young villain in front of him and decided to change his own ending.

*

Fu Shen knew about his past long ago and had been plotting for many years for this reason.

He agreed to Tang Zhou’s harsh demands, pretended to be harmless, and in silence kept a low profile.

The original plan was to turn around and leave naturally after the deed was done.

But unexpectedly, after one night, this person seemed to have changed.

Peeled off the coat of indifference, there was actually a piece of small sugar cake inside.

Fu Shen was born with a sweet tooth, and after having a taste, he couldn’t let go.

- Description from Novelupdates

[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.