Stray Cat Strut - Glossary: Model Twelve

Bai Chuwei has lived for five thousand years, and after becoming an ancestor of all human beings, she descends the mountains and initiates the plot of a novel.A new female student is transferred into Henghua Secondary School Year 3. The young lady has bright eyes, white teeth, red lips and her appearance is similar to an immortal fairy. But unfortunately, she has Eighth-Grader Syndrome.“The wealth of ten Duan Family added together does not even make up half of my combined wealth over the past five thousand years.”“The first classic masterpiece of China? Oh I casually wrote that for fun two decades ago.”“Scientific research isn’t comparable to flying in the skies with a sword. Today, this ancestor here shall teach everyone how to cultivate scientifically.”The online lurkers reveal a snort of contempt and wait to see Bai Chuwei slapping herself in the face after acting so pretentiously. Eventually, the China Property Statistics Association reveals this particular information: The respected ancestor is the richest person in the world, owning the most number of gold mines, hundreds of islands, and countless property worldwide.China Writer’s Association: @Bai Chuwei, Respected ancestor, when will you continue updating your book after having stopped it for two centuries?

After seeking pleasure in the nightclub and a night of romance, he discovered there’s a seed in his stomach;

One of the Conferred Martial Emperors, Gu Feiyang, passed away in the Tiandang Mountains and was reincarnated 15 years later as Li Yunxiao of the State of Tianshui, embarking on a heaven-defying journey against the innumerable geniuses of the time.

The nine levels of the Martial Art; the Divine Realms of the ten quarters. From then on, the whole world fell into chaos!

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.