MTL - Death Sutra - Chapter 1172 Winning and losing

Saintess wants to turn me into a sword spirit; the master wants me to be a rebel disciple; the blindfolded sword fairy senior sister wants to make me her slave; the fox from Qingqiu harbors ill intentions; the little dragon girl always drools over me; the princess wants to keep me in the deep palace...All I want is to cultivate immortality, so why do they always have designs on me!? Many years later, someone asks Lu Jin'an what kind of Dao heart supported him to get this far? Lu Jin'an glances at his charming and alluring wives and sighs faintly：“I just wanted freedom.”

Traveling to the fantasy world, when Leiter was in his forties, he finally became a little nobleman – the lord of Young Eagle Town.

Only then did he discover that he also had golden fingers.

Looking at the two options of [Text Simulation] and [Real Simulation], Leiter hesitated to choose [Real Simulation].

[Do you want to enable real simulation? Every simulated day consumes 5 destiny points. 】

“yes”

 …

[The real simulation is over, please choose an attribute you want to keep. 】

【1. Constitution】

【2. Dou Qi】

【3. Mental power】

Fantasy simulation, lord farming, family growth, more exciting, please watch!

ps: It is definitely not a studio article, so rest assured to read. Focusing on territory and family, perhaps, this book can bring warmth and harmony

- Description from novelbuddy

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.

The year 1847