Cultivating through increasing my stats in America - Chapter 77 - Sharing Experiences

Leo Lock, a reading addict with the ability to truly 'read' books, never really fit in his boring 'normal' world. However, everything changed when an unknown voice found its way to his head!

Fainting only to find himself in the body of a character from a fantasy novel he once read upon waking up, Leo barely processed his new reality before he was thrown into another whirlpool.

[Role: Reader]
[Target: Reach the Epilogue.]

The only lead he had about his 'transmigration' didn’t speak much! Even the character he took over already had a foot in the coffin! How was he supposed to survive that long? Why did he have to become the protagonist’s brother?!

Moreover, what was this Personal Book supposed to be? Reading Attributes? Points?

Follow Leo as he experiences the true life of a reader in a fantasy book, facing expected challenges, and encountering all kinds of 'new'…

Would he manage to go back and find out the reason behind his 'transmigration'? Was that even his purpose? Or was this nothing but the start of a much bigger change beyond the scope of his understanding…?

***

First Volume: The Sword Master’s Second Life
Second Volume: Murim Supremacy

Note: Yes, Leo starts out with a sword, but that isn’t the limit to his choice of weapons!

Epic fantasy presence: Ashes Of The First Tyrant [AOTFT]Prologue – The Law of AuraThey say every soul burns.Some flare brightly and fade. Others smolder quietly for a lifetime.But a rare few, rare beyond reason ignite with such intensity that the world bends to them. These are not gods. Not yet.These are the Tyrants.And their aura is not a gift.It is a weight a burden.In this world, aura is everything.It is the breath behind a sword strike, the pressure behind a command, the silent will that can crush or inspire. Most are born with it. Few master it.But only one…only one in an ageawakens the Tyrant’s Spirit…the aura that dominates not by force, but by presence alone.

“Y-young master, the Lord is requesting your presence.”

I looked at myself in the mirror as a maid's voice, laced with trepidation, reached my ears.

“Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

“I understand, y-young master.”

I paid no mind to her quivering presence, my gaze fixed on my reflection.

And this is exactly why I despise this character, Yes, He is a villain with my name but does it matter, no, the problem is this guy's weight he is so heavy that this tub of lard is weighing me down, literally.

For someone who prides themselves on muscle, nothing's worse than “fat,” and this guy before me? Well, he's a prime example of that.

“I suppose I need a workout.”

Reaching the door, exhaustion gripped me and I found myself gasping for breath. It was unbelievable – this body was so darn heavy.

After an arduous struggle, I finally made my way out of the room, causing servants carrying a litter¹ to scurry over. They lowered it, creating a path for me to step onto it.

I tried to ignore the spectacle – it was this pampering that turned this fatty into a giant tire. Pushing the annoyance aside, I began to move, managing only about 10 steps before my legs gave out.

Damn it. Seriously? I collapsed, leaving the twenty servants to hastily lift me and place me onto the litter. For me, it felt more like a stretcher. There I was, sprawled on it like some mountain, panting heavily.

“You damn god! I hope the protagonist of your favorite novel gets NTRed!”

“We're here, young master.”

Can you believe it? his father's office is just thirty steps away from this pumpkin room, yet he insists on using a litter.

“Give me a hand.”

I ordered while cursing this hefty body under my breath.

“Oh, come, come, my dear child. How was your day?”

I glanced at the middle-aged man, his face exuding warmth and care.

As for my feelings? This old man right here is the reason this chubby exists. Not that I give a darn about my indulgent father.

“I'm alright, Dad.”

Yes, imagine this: as a noble, this old man spoiled this pumpkin so much that he thinks he can go around scolding the mansion's maids and servants.

“Take a seat. Hey, fetch his chair!”

You might wonder why he doesn't sit on a regular chair. Well, that's because the chair is custom-made to accommodate this hippo-sized frame.

“What's going on, Dad?”

Seriously, why would he summon this big old hippo over to his quarters? There's gotta be a reason for it....

“Your fiancee is coming tomorrow”

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

The new book “Being Coquettish in the Arms of His Ex-Uncle and Begging for a Hug” is here, fairies, bookmark it and go home!

Cool and talented female painter VS dark-bellied and poisonous-tongued business boss

When Wen Rui met Xie Yanqing for the first time, Mo Shang was like a jade, and his son was unparalleled in the world.

When Xie Yanqing saw Wen Rui for the first time, she smiled sweetly and looked forward to her beautiful eyes. With just one glance, he knew that this girl had lived in his heart.

The noble and desolate second master Xie in the capital broke his precepts, fell in love, changed his low-key style in the past, showed his affection on the Internet every day, and even abused his own son when he abused dogs.

“Second Master, black fans on the Internet say Madam’s paintings are plagiarized!”

“Go and block his account for me, and send him to the police station.”

“Second Lord, some people in the Chinese painting circle say that Madam was hired as a senior consultant of the art institute, so there must be a financial backer!”

“Post the marriage certificate of my wife and I online.

“Second master, Madam said she wants to drink porridge from Yipinju.”

“Hurry up and buy the ingredients, how can the outside smell as good as mine?”

“Papa, can I see what you locked in the safe?”

“No, that’s a portrait your mother painted for me.”

——

One day, Wen Rui was surrounded by reporters for a post-marriage interview at the Golden Lottery Awards Ceremony.

“Miss Wen, it is rumored that you are a cold beauty. How did Second Master Xie win your heart?”

Wen Rui’s bright eyes moved slightly, and said quietly: “Rely on thick skin.”

Reporters: “…”

Someone strolled over and grabbed Wen Rui’s slender waist: “Huh? Miss Wen, the wind hasn’t moved and the flag hasn’t moved, it’s your heart that’s moving.”

That night someone put Wen Rui against the wall: “Ruirui, are you still excited?”

- Description from novelbuddy