Primordial 'Dual Cultivator' Dragon With System - Chapter 1337: Grudge Howling Gorge

[Warning! Adult Novel!]The emergence of dungeons has reshaped the world. At the age of 16, individuals are bestowed with the 'blessing', which grants them skills to aid in conquering these dungeons.Meet Dante, our protagonist, who initially joined from squad to squad as a support member and possessed only an F-rated skill potential.Due to this limitation, Dante faced discrimination and endured bullying. However, driven by his determination to survive, he managed to obtain a system that would pave the way for his growth and newfound strength.However, the system he acquired only reward him with support-related skills. Fortunately, these abilities can also be applied to himself.Can he truly break free from always being at the receiving end?Dante emerged from the shadows, reborn under a new alias, embodying the person he yearned to become. While the System bestowed upon him great advantages, it also presented him with perilous challenges he must confront.

When natural disasters ran rampant, with extreme cold and storms spreading endlessly…When the world mutated, zombies surged like tides, and eerie horrors emerged…When the apocalypse descended, massive Devouring Abysses hundreds of kilometers in diameter began appearing around the globe…When people looked up at the atmospheric cloud layers and saw the slowly emerging corpse of a colossal evil god…From that day, people began to notice that daylight was arriving later and later, until the sun no longer rose, plunging the world into an unending polar night.For survival, on that day, the Apocalypse Radio made its final broadcast to the world:“Everyone, flee eastward—escape to dawn!”…Lin Xian awakened the [Mechanical Heart] ability. He could devour machinery to gain various mysterious skills, scan machines to obtain blueprints for manufacturing, and even use his thoughts to achieve unified control of different machines.Thus, he found a 200-ton heavy gas-powered locomotive, towing specially modified storage, planting, production, medical, and living carriages, and embarked on a 320,000-kilometer journey along the planetary orbital rail—charging eastward toward the dawn!

Transmigration? A Chong Xi Marriage? Sickly husband? How worse can this get?

Mo Qian Xue now lives in a soddy, destitute, small house with broken furnitures. The grass had grown wild and unruly from lack of proper care. The rice pot in the kitchen, it’s left empty. Well, this mess seemed quite manageable, however, why is it they only have one quilt in the house?

Not only does she serve her husband food and refreshments during the day, does she need to make sure he’s well “fed” at night too?

“It’s getting late now… we should go to bed. Said the sickly husband. She simply closed the door, turned off the lights, and went straight to sleep.

“If you dare move, I’ll kick you out of the bed!” She threatened.

In the end, the man still managed to wrap himself around her no matter how she resisted. The sickly husband wasn’t as weak as he appeared to be!

Mo Qian Xue worked hard to become rich. She built workshops, opened factories, one aided by her sickly husband towards prosperity. Fortunately, she could live a peaceful life far from bickering relatives, but then, much to her dismay, she still had to deal with the villagers knocking on her door.

So they want her money? They want her position as a wife? Since when was she, Mo Xian Que easy to bully?! They want to make her lose face? Alright, let them come a little closer then… give them a…. slap!

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.