Raising My Trash Ability into a Broken SSS+ Rank Skill - Chapter 153: The Unpaid Debt

Necromancer】, Originating from ancient Europe, these mysterious wizards were often male, knowing how to summon and enslave the souls of the deceased to create undead creatures. Usually, those who practiced this craft had frail bodies, pale complexions, and twisted psyches, shunning and distrusting others. Some, who mastered the art, could even trade their flesh for an immortal Lich’s life. But can someone tell me how to practice the art of necromancy in the 21st century? In a law-abiding society, I can’t even get a skeleton! Misumi Mikoto: Doctor Chen, come quickly and help me examine this body; I can’t find the cause of death! Jounouchi Hiromi: Doctor Chen, come check on this patient first; what exactly is wrong with him?

In the rural northeastern mountainous regions stands a tiny Buddhist temple, named One Finger Temple. It isn’t a large one but it is extremely miraculous.

The temple has rice that emanates an aromatic fragrance.

The temple has sweet and refreshing water that rivals ambrosia.

The temple has Buddhas that grant wishes to the sincere.

The temple isn’t large but it has everything. The temple isn’t large but it has flourishing incense offerings that far exceed all temples. The temple isn’t large but it attracts both citizens and foreigners that line up overnight…

The temple has a bald but handsome monk. Every day, he would bawl, “I want to renounce asceticism! I want to marry a chick that’s not too pretty, have a cute baby, and lead a stable life!”

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.