MTL - My Artist Is Reborn - Chapter 49 49th

After possessing the game’s villain, my goal was solely one thing –

To escape from this cursed game world.

[Embrace a death befitting a villain]

I failed on the first run.

But I resolved once more to escape this world…

“I missed you, Kyle.”

Yet the heroines who once loathed me began to plead for my affection.

Sein was only a child when he was abducted from the surface world and forced to join the Black Magic Academy. In the Underworld, strength reigns supreme and the weak struggles to survive. As the death toll of magic initiates continues to rise within the walls of the academy, Sein’s quest for knowledge and power is a constant battle for survival.

Memories of his parents and the starry night sky in the surface world are fading with each passing day in the Underworld.

“Is Magus World the name of the world we live in? Where is my home in the Magus World?” These are the burning questions that Sein has in mind.

Will he be able to rise to the pinnacle of power, discover the truth of the world and ultimately find his way back home?

Official blurb:

He hails from the banished land of the Underworld, bound by a single unforgiving rule—survival of the fittest. He is the seeker of truth, a mage who treads the fine line between sanity and madness. In a world where myths have crumbled and chaos holds sway, it is strength that reigns supreme.

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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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