Hide in The Immortal Cultivation World, Strike Hard in the Martial World - Chapter 132 - 104: Zhao Family Island

Li Wei accidentally obtained a simulator that allowed him to manage a family of cultivators. He discovered that the descendants in the game would offer him strange and unique sacrifices.“Thanks to the ancestor for the gift, our family has become the most powerful family!”“Hurry up and offer a sacrifice to the ancestor. Please accept this spiritual weapon!”“Ancestor, we have already conquered the immortal world!”Then, one day, the descendants of the Li family, who had been in the game, appeared on Earth in grand flying boats. Under the astonished eyes of the entire world, these descendants paid homage to Li Wei in great numbers.“Welcome our ancestor home!”

Cal was the pride of his guild, the one that other Initiates looked up to. Then he died. So did his guild.His understanding of the world shattered before his death. His guild was nothing compared to others, which meant he was the best of the worst.When Cal was given a second chance, he wouldn’t repeat his mistakes. Who cared about being a [Mage] when it would just mean death? He would survive, even if it meant being something he sneered at in his previous life.A [Farmer].Of course, when did anything go according to plan? Never.

Rudel Arses, the first born of one of the ‘Three Lords’ of the Courtois Kingdom, is from a corrupted family, but at 5 years old, he saw a dragon in the sky and his dark future as a villain changed. He was considered an idiot, but was that true? How would his effort to become a dragoon change the kingdom?

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.