MTL - Start with Psychologist - Chapter 62

Have you ever thought a monster that has a job of a summoner and a tamer

what should it call itself Monster Summoner? Monster Tamer? but he itself was a monster too

Watch as our mc travels the world as an reincarnated human who turn into a monster

Love is like a battle... A bloodless battle. And every battle has casualties. But this battle leaves even more torturous wounds. Because the wounds of love are left on one's soul.

He might be covered in scars that this battle of feeling left behind, she was the cure he never even knew he was looking for.

He hid his emotions in the maze of his heart, but what to do, the wife he brought home, fancies puzzles.

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Raelle Xiang likes to have everything under her control. Being a CEO, she has always been very calculative. All her life revolved around profits. She'd avoid anything and everything that she couldn't control or calculate; for instance, feelings!

Something intangible like feelings were too bothersome for her.

Shui Xian has turned cold and aloof after the divorce that left him devastated. With enormous wealth, exceptional family back, he was still considered the ideal man but even after years, he was still single.

He chose to bury himself in work to forget the heartbreak and bitterness that someone left behind.

But what happens when this cold President gets into an arranged marriage with the feisty CEO?

One is broken by love and yet cherishes the pain it brought.

The other has always considered love to be a manipulative emotion.

One has a cold personality, the other is simply cold.

One is all about facts and logic, the other still believe in emotions.

With their similar personalities yet contradicting beliefs, what chaos this marriage is gone bring?

Will love manage to ignite?

The next day.“I’ve stressed this time and again—I’m responsible for making the ethos of the cultivation world off-kilter! History is written by the victors, and I’ve triumphed!” Sword Immortal Lu Yang expressed his ire during a press interview.—Brought to you by The Cultivation Times.(Translated by Rakumon)It is the first day of the twelfth month of the year—a suitable day for the launch of this novel (I hope… :3) I am Rakumon, the translator of Who Let Him Cultivate?! This novel is known for its refreshing humor and imaginative ideas in the Chinese community. If you like a witty protagonist, interesting side characters, a mystery plot in the background, and plenty of comedy, do read on and be a part of Lu Yang’s journey! I have previously worked on Consort of a Thousand Faces and Transmigration: Of Mysteries And Songs on Volare. It will be my first time translating a novel from this genre, and it definitely doesn’t help that this novel is heavy with jokes, puns, wordplay, memes, poems, cultural references—you name it. Nonetheless, I will try my best to bring them across to all of you, and please also feel free to share your comments!

...[Inside an underground basement]“You are going to die for nothing, hahahaha,” the old man's voice thundered through the room, sending chills down my spine.Step.With a swift and ruthless motion, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air and slashing my throat, crimson droplets staining the darkness.“We'll see,” I whispered defiantly, my final words escaping as a mere breath against the impending darkness.Slowly, inexorably, my consciousness slipped away, and I descended into a deep, unfathomable slumber.“Huh!?” My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself seated in a bustling tavern, the air thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses.In front of me stood a captivating lady, her beauty juxtaposed with an angry furrow upon her brow, threatening to shatter the harmony of the jovial scene.“Don't follow me around!” Her words pierced the air like shards of ice, the intensity of her emotions palpable as she cast a resentful glare in my direction, before swiftly departing from the tavern....Am I trapped within the confines of a game? The fragments of my shattered common sense scattered before me, leaving me to question the very fabric of my reality.