MTL - My British Empire - Chapter 144 queen mary

In the 21st century, a young judge time-travels to another world.Here, martial arts are evergreen, and myriad schools compete for dominance.Confucianism: Immense righteousness, impervious to all laws.Legalism: The power of rules, the law follows the word.Military strategists: The power of conquest, invincible in battle.Mohism: Ingenious mechanics, ordinary humans rivaling gods.Yin-Yang school: Numerology and the five elements, seeking divination, pursuing good fortune, and avoiding disaster....What's this? The Legalists grow stronger by adjudicating cases?Li Nuo, who has just vowed to advocate for the people and eliminate the corrupt, discovers that his father is the greatest villain in the court.Faced with countless enemies seeking revenge against his father, Li Nuo says he only needs one sentence.'My lady, guard me!'

Welcome Zhang Yu to the art life section of Yangtai. I am the host army!
     The literary world calls your work the peak of God.
     The comic world calls your work insurmountable.
     The music industry calls your work the limit of art.
     The film industry calls your work a box office myth.
     Of course, these are not what I want to ask.
     I want to ask…
     What is it for the sports world?

- Description from uukanshu

One morning, after being bound to the system, MC started his routine of always being captured/ attacked by the ML.

It doesn’t matter if he transmigrated into the ML’s little brother (TN: Here I think brother disciple) or master or opponent, but in the end he is still forcibly taken by the ML.

After transmigrating to many worlds:

MC: Come out system!!! The heck?! Why do these MLs not love their female goddesses, but insist on doing it with me! Aaaaahh!!!

System: …. __(:3」∠)_ Don’t ask me, I also don’t know.

- Description from Novelupdates

[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.