Nice To Meet You, Mr. Xiao - Chapter 42 - 61: Grandpa, are you hurt?

Gripes have their origins and debts have their creditors. We haven’t crossed each other in days past or present, nor formed any grudges. I am but duty-bound to carry this out, so apologies in advance!

In his past life, Yang Chen was a gentle person who was oppressed for his whole life.

Now that he’s reborn, he chose to become an executioner and severs ties and grudges with his executioner’s blade, killing all that climb onto the Immortal Executioner’s Platform!

Heads will roll! Humans’ in the human realm, demons’ in the demon realm, devils’ in the devil realm and immortals’ in the immortal realm!

The middle boss of the AAA-class game produced by the company. The villain who dies 999 times out of 1,000 times. Deculein.That person, was me now.“You’re going to die on almost every route.”Deculein, like all villains, inevitably dies.[First and foremost survival goal: Be what the game requires you to be]I’ll have to survive even if it means twisting my fate if I am destined to die.

Being dragged forcefully, the young man found himself in a world where cultivation and magic exists. In this vast multi-worlds, the blood of the innocent and the blood of the guilt are spilled like it's nothing.

“I finally found you,” The words sent a jolt to his soul as an unknown yet familiar blurred memory played in his mind. Embraced by the unknown woman, they shared a kiss to his surprise.

Wearing a ring that held half of the power of his past life, the young man ventured to find his women and retrieve his lost memories.

Oh yeah, he was transferred naked.

[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.