I'm an Infinite Regressor, But I've Got Stories to Tell - Chapter 274

A social worker father and his adult daughter crash land on a desert full of crystal plants and little else. The city walls of Ar'Kendrithyst rise in the distance, but as the pair hike closer they see those walls are more like mountains, and the mega-metropolis is long dead. Luckily, the adventuring city of Spur is alive and green and hospitable, and well outside of Ar’Kendrithyst’s shadow.Follow Erick Flatt as he tries to make a nice life with new friends in a new home with his daughter at his side, but this land is rarely as kind as its people, and Erick will need to change if he wants to live the life he wishes to live. What to expect:Slow burn storyline, worldbuilding, father-daughter relationship, Erick is the MC, Jane is the side character, slice of life, numbers in blue boxes but also high fantasy, trying to understand magic, creating new magic, living the easy life but forced into dealing with problems, problems becoming very large, massive changes, traumatizing content, and most of all: character growth.

'Confucius spoke not of the bizarre, the valiant, the rebellious, nor of spirits and demons.'This is the story of Mok Gyeongwoon, AKA the First Heavenly Demon - Cheon Ma, the forefather of the main character of the popular novel and manwha Nano Machine. This story is the prequel to Nano Machine, taking place 800 years earlier.

As a cultivator, Lan Tian never expected she'd been hurled back to the 1970s countryside!Suddenly stripped of her powers, she's surrounded by mud - brick houses and farmland. Facing farming to social quirks with no modern conveniences, she relies on her cultivator's wisdom and resilience.

[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.