Poison Genius Consort - Chapter 217: Wangfei didn’t lose face

“Black Myth: The Destined One” the mobile game, sent Li Ping'an back to the Journey to the West World where deities and Buddhas had perished, demons roamed freely, and the Three Realms had collapsed. The longer he survived, the stronger he became.Cultivation, Divine Skills, Side Techniques, Magical Treasures... and the like were obtained from the game and could even be taken back to the real world.Black Bear Spirit Bodhisattva, Shadowy Moon Demon Lord, Howling Celestial Dog, Hundred Eyes Demon Lord Bodhisattva, King Huang Feng Bodhisattva, Old Buddha Huang Mei... One after another, those claiming to be immortals, Bodhisattvas, and Buddha Ancestors fell beneath his staff.Only after he had acquired wealth and status in the real world through the Cultivation, Divine Skills, Side Techniques, and Magical Treasures obtained from the game, did he realize that the real world was nothing more than the Nineteenth Layer of Hell in the Journey to the West World...With an undying heart, at ease and carefree, the Destined One Li Ping'an embarked on Journey to the West once more!

Harry got a strange Life Achievement System which assigns missions that reward him for acting like a scumbag and earning Scum Points.Scum Points Could can be exchanged for powerful magical items, rare abilities, and tools that give Harry an edge in both life and business.At first, he resents it. Then he gets curious. And finally… he gets hooked.But being a scumbag is a high-risk profession. One wrong move, and he could lose everything, even his life. To survive this dangerous game, Harry must walk the line between manipulation and strategy, charm and ruthlessness.He’ll cheat, scheme, and hustle his way to the top.

[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.