This Is My Primitive Tribe - Chapter 241 - 158: Trapping the God

Some say he is the bad apple in a basket, that he’s rotting everything around him with disgrace and corruption.

Some say he is the biggest scum of the South Zhanbu Continent, that he’s colluding with the dark sects to cheat, steal, and commit all manner of atrocities.

Some say he is the most wanted playboy. “Lock your daughters at home to keep Fang Xing away!”

To all of those people, “That’s right, I am that big rotten apple. Any problem with that?”

This brand of anti-hero is a young orphan with poor prospects and nothing more than the keepsakes of his uncles. He plots, schemes, and orchestrates all manner of villainy in his quest for power and revenge, unafraid to live precariously and make enemies out of those he really should not.

- Description from Novelupdates

In my last life, it was difficult to have a child. In this life, I was given three radish heads as soon as I passed it, and there was an extra head. I thought my husband was a rough guy, but I didn’t expect a tough guy to have tenderness.

- Description from novelbuddy

He went from an ordinary student to a god-level master in manufacturing.
Continuously progressing, processing range from hundreds of meters to tens of atoms, processing precision from microns to nanometers to atoms and molecules, everything was possible.
Wassenaar Accord? The embargo against China? What we have banned are technologies that China doesn’t care much about. Most of the member states have to import technology from China, shouldn’t the member states have a meeting to discuss and bring in China as well?
Forbidden chip sales? Is there a mistake? We barely managed to maintain our low-end market with a large amount of subsidies, it’s already good enough that China didn’t initiate an anti-dumping investigation. President, are you sick?
Hmm, it seems like living cells can be processed precisely as well. Do you need to refine the cancer cells that you are spreading out?

- Description from Novelupdates

The Night Has Come, and kermesinus moon ascends in the sky.Hoarse whispers flow at the street corners, and brass steam machines spew out bloody mist.Your brain is singing a hymn, eyes are chanting a melody.Skin cracks, and flesh buds swell.Amidst the Mist, the wall of flesh that has devoured thousands of corpses wails endlessly—“Weep not, our players don't bite, they just want to play with you.”Annan, the lone strategist, the top player, the savior of the mist-covered continent, the leader of the Thirteen Saints, the friend of the Twelve True Gods, the king of pioneers, “the Just”, the Gatekeeper of the Fourth Calamity, the uncrowned deity, advised kindly.