Nine Heavenly Thunder Manual - Chapter 288 – Brushing Past

Ten years ago, John and his parents were transported into a game world.This young man, full of ambition to conquer the world, unfortunately awakened the weakest class—Furniture Maker.But what troubled John most wasn’t his class.Like most transmigrators, he had a system.The only problem was—This system kept granting him strange and absurd skills.[Ding! Congratulations, Host! You’ve acquired a concept-level skill: Absolute Diarrhea Technique. Your basic attacks will cause opponents to suffer explosive diarrhea until complete exhaustion. Any creature without an anus is unworthy of being your enemy!][Ding! Congratulations, Host! You’ve acquired a concept-level skill: Mummification Wrapping Technique. Bandages crafted by you can heal all things!][Ding! Congratulations, Host! You’ve acquired a concept-level skill: You may steal and copy the abilities of anyone named John!][Ding! Congratulations, Host! You’ve acquired a bonus concept-level skill: You may forcibly rename anyone to John!]…Years later, in the Divine Realm, a lone figure stood tall above the heavens.As the sacred hymns echoed, he raised a finger—And all the gods clenched their anuses in fear.

After 6,000 years of development by the immortal sect on Planet Earth, all of the leyline spiritual energy was controlled by the country. They only released enough spiritual energy for the cultivators to breathe. If a cultivator wanted to use the spiritual energy to train themselves, they would have to pay the immortal sect for that.

Chen Mobai was a senior high school student at the Fifth High School of the Immortal Sect. He was studying for his entrance exam at the colleges of the immortal sect. His biggest dream was to achieve the Foundation Establishment Realm until he was transmigrated to a cultivation world.

“There’s no one here despite how dense the spiritual energy is?”

“Wait! Isn’t this the legendary spiritual herb? Are these not extinct here?”

“Huh? Is this the method to extract one’s Spiritual Root? Also, isn’t this a divine technique?”

“What a powerful cultivator! Please accept me as your disciple!”

As his life in the cultivation world continued, his dream changed.

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

A marriage contract lasting three years, a marriage in name only, as if they were strangers.To provide for her child, she went out to work in a large corporation, only to find her boss was actually her contract husband...“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I chose the company because the salary was high enough.”The man flipped through the resume in his hand and asked casually, “Why did you take a year off from university when you were 19?”“I, when I was a freshman... something happened in my family.”“Is that so? Then why do you have a scar on your lower abdomen?”“I had appendectomy...”His gaze was inscrutable.......After a three-year marriage, she signed the divorce agreement with a heavy heart.She turned and walked away with dignity and poise, like a splash of light ink.But why did this man keep pursuing her?

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?