Purgatory Artist - Chapter 147: Eavesdropping!

They love gold, and they love silver. Even more so, they love gems that dazzle, like stars across the skies.
Firearms, jewelleries, and precious metals; A collector’s world will not be complete without antiques.
Storage auctions, old goods trade, re-estate sales and gold-digging. But the truth is, if one wants to make money, then the supreme way is through searching for the legendary treasures.
Holding the fort, there’s an ocelot, a wolf, and an Andes condor. At the side, there’s a loyal hound, an irascible ape, and an African honey badger. Who said that you can only rely on humans when treasure hunting?!

- Description from Novelupdates

Until he became the lowest-ranked master, his lonely and luckless life never changed.

Suddenly one day, a descendant injected him with a nanomachine, and the machine started ‘speaking’ to him.

“What? What are you talking about?”

This was beyond the boy’s knowledge, he turned pale.

The Nanomachine linked to his cerebrum realized the User was not understanding a single word it said.

“Who are you, and why are you doing this to me?”

“Nano Mashin?”

The boy’s face hardened.

Mashin was the deity the Mashin Religion worshipped, along with the Sacred Fire.

The religions’ Master communicated with Mashin.

“Um, are you really Mashin?”

The boy knelt down and asked with a trembling voice. At this, the Nanomachine attached to his cerebrum realized it had been misunderstood.

In the whole world there lays twelve paths to climb the Tower of God, and in legends these twelve pathways leads toward legendary road of immortality. However these paths in the Tower of God, are far too long, without end.

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.