A Record of a Mortal's Journey to Immortality: Immortal Realm - Chapter 1364: On the Cusp of Battle

The Main Character, Watari Karito, is a veteran player of a Military Shooting VRMMORPG.

“When the old gods are forgotten, they do not die—they wait.”In the year 1025, the Viking Age wanes.Iceland bows to Christ. The Althing governs by law. And the gods of old fade to whispers.But in the far Westfjords, something stirs.Vetrulfr, a former Varangian captain and exile, returns from the East with foreign gold, forgotten warcraft, and a hunger no man can name.He comes not in peace, but to raise Ullrsfjörðr from ash and ice; building walls, carving runes, and waging war on behalf of a dying faith.From Reykjavík to Aachen, rumors spread: a ghost walks the North once more. Some call him the son of Ullr. Others, a wolf-cloaked demon.But all will know his name.and when the Valkyries call, he will answer.

It is said that the second daughter of the Yu Family is an Unlucky Star who only appears once in ten years, born with a lowly status and astonishing stupidity.Everyone mocks and bullies her, avoiding her like the plague, except for Master Shi, the famously aloof and distant ice sculpture of the Imperial City, who believes he has found a treasure.The first time Yu Zhi met Shi Wei, she thought he was a cold and abstinent CEO.After spending more time with him, she realized he was actually a paranoid, cunning, possessive, and childish scoundrel.One day, while they were watching an idol drama together, Shi Wei suddenly asked, “Why have you never cried for me?”Yu Zhi replied, “My tear glands aren't very active.”Shi Wei said, “Really?”Later, every night when Yu Zhi was bullied into crying, he would whisper eerily yet contentedly into her ear, “Zhizhi cried for me, I'm so happy.”

[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.