MTL - Apotheosis – Ascension to Godhood - Chapter 11 True fire hardening

“Wen Wenyao is so good-looking, don’t you feel moved?”

The system began to doubt…

Song Nanqiao: “No… I don’t…”

System: “But your match value with her is 100%, you will definitely like her…”

Song Nanqiao: “I don’t!”

Song Nanqiao is all about study and work, not about love

But Song Nanqiao slowly discovered that the heroine was quietly paying attention to her.

One night, Wen Wenyao grabbed the corner of her coat, deliberated, and said shyly, “Did you used to…liked me…”

Song Nanqiao: “Ah…that…used to like, but now probably not.”

Wen Wenyao took her hand and whispered in her ear, “But I’ve liked you for a long time…I like you so much…Can you give me a chance to chase you?”

- Description from Novelupdates

A master assassin transmigrates into an interstellar era.

Jacob Steve, an Old Man, died at 116 after living a whole life.

But Jacob always had a dark side, which he always suppressed and hid from others.
However, in the later years of his life, when death was inevitable, he understood there wasn't any point in having wealth, knowledge, or desires if you couldn't have a life to enjoy them.

He became obsessed with fabled immortality and devoted his reaming life to extending his fleeting lifespan, but just like any other failed.

However, he mysteriously got another chance at life and found a way that led to fabled immortality.
But he was also forewarned that the way led to it was filled with blood and darkness!

In the end, Jacob chose it anyway with no way of going back, and it was also the start of his suffering and his icky, brutal journey toward the 'Immortality' he wanted so badly!

[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.