All My Disciples Are Kings - Chapter 912: Xiao Hei’s arrogance!

The human Race is at war with the Vicious Dalki and when they needed help more than ever, THEY started to come forward.

Humans who had hidden in the shadows for hundreds of years, people with abilities.

Some chose to share their knowledge to the rest of the world in hopes of winning the war, while others kept their abilities to themselves.

Quinn had lost everything to the war, his home, his family and the only thing he had inherited was a crummy old book that he couldn’t even open.

But when the book had finally opened, Quinn was granted a system and his whole life was turned around.

He completed quest after quest and became more powerful, until one day the system gave him a quest he wasn’t sure he could complete.

"It is time to feed!"
"You must drink human blood within 24 hours"
"Your HP will continue to decrease until the task has been completed"

One month after getting married, her lord husband went hunting for monsters and returned as a corpse.In shock, Penelope realizes she has been reincarnated into a novel.However, before she could even accept the fact that she was reincarnated, the affairs of the estate piled up!“The price of turnips has dropped again.”“The people of the estate need at least three months’ worth of emergency supplies to survive the winter.”“Firewood…?”“Water…?”Wait, hold on… I don’t know anything about managing an estate!• • •“I need to hire a wizard to work in the estate.”“He’ll work for exactly 100,000 gold.”It seems like there’s no escaping this, so she ends up getting help from the Archmage… but something about this guy seems suspicious.“Do you want to touch it?”“What? What do you mean?”“My hair. Didn’t you keep staring at it because you wanted to touch it?”The guy, who was the most powerful Archmage and the sweet dog-like secondary male lead, seems to have lost his mind somewhere along the way.Should I just escape from the estate?

Vincent van Gogh, the painter who refused to be an accessory Of power and painted with his soul at the tip of a brush, was not understood by anyone and had to die like a madman, and he woke up in 21st century Korea.

Like a wheat field melted with gold, like a sunflower that swallowed the sun, a dazzling painter once again takes the brush.

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.