I Have Refined Qi For 3000 Years! - Book 5: Chapter 18: Splashing Ink Immortal Painting

In a land where ancient families are as common as the stars, the weight of millennia-old legacies brings not only honor but also the chains of rigid traditions. Here, bloodlines are the cornerstone of power, the unyielding foundation for climbing the ladder of authority.But what hope does the descendant of a mere hunter have in such a world? How can they claim a seat at the table in this grand feast of ambition and betrayal? Is it through the fragmented remnants of a cheat ability from the game For Honor, now warped and unrecognizable? A fleeting glimpse into an uncertain future? Or perhaps a stroke of intangible, invisible luck?The stage is set, the pieces are moving—will this unlikely contender rise, or will they become just another casualty of the Game of Thrones?

“Let's get married!” When those words came out of the beautiful CEO's mouth, Li Chen felt dizzy!

Might is truth!

Iron-blooded Prime Minister Bismarck once said: “To solve major contemporary problems, we cannot rely on speeches and parliamentary resolutions… we must rely on iron and blood.”

Qin Tian, ​​a military enthusiast, was reborn as the fifth son of William II, Prince Oscar . Originally, he just wanted to eat and wait to die, but by accident, he became the heir to the empire.

For his own life, Qin Tian had to do everything possible to let Germany win the war!

Qin Tian’s goal: “Use the German sword to obtain land for the German plow, obtain daily bread for the German people, and fight for the land under the sun for the German nation!”

The boundless universe is full of many wonders.

I, Chen Ping, only have one sword!

I can move mountains, overturn the seas upside down, suppress demons, slap the face of gods, pluck the stars, break rivers, destroy cities, and… open the heavenly abode!

***

The Midland world was full of wonders.

In the center of the world, there was a scholar who had once used a sword to slash out a waterfall of the Milky Way. This was the person he was the most proud of.

At the edge of East Sea’s cliffs, there was a nameless Daoist who was unwilling to ascend to the peak of a mountain. He only wished for a cool breeze to brush against his face.

In the Western Pure Land, there was an old monk who liked to treat people to chicken soup and tell stories.

In the southern border of the Wilderness, there was a blind painter who controlled golden-armored puppets that were as tall as mountains to move the hundred thousand mountains, creating an embroidered picture.

A impoverished youth who grew up in the north. One day, he saw tens of thousands of Sword Kinesis Immortals above him, like a swarm of locusts crossing the border.

He wanted to see for himself the scholar that the storyteller had mentioned, the surging tides of the East Sea, the vast swamps of sand in the west, and the majestic mountains of the Southern Wasteland.

Thus, one day, the youth picked up the wooden sword and began to descend south.

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