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Nate Rothschild laughed: "Isn’t this exactly what we expect? The newly risen families have such shortcomings; they want everything, they don’t want to give up any industry that has a chance to make money, but they don’t realize that the energy of a person or a consortium, a family, is limited. Wanting everything means their strength is dispersed!"

"Don’t underestimate Donnie Block’s cash flow!" Anthony Rothschild reminded Nate Rothschild: "Speaking purely of cash ...

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Attribute Classification: Overhead/Western Magic/Strong Attack/Sweet

- Description from novelbuddy

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The ClockA Divine Object that looms eternally in the sky, casting its silent shadow over every corner of the earth. No one remembers when it first appeared—only that it has always been there. And it ticks.Once every ten years, the hand moves. With it, millions are randomly chosen and sent to another realm, forced to fight for their survival. These chosen few are known as Chronists—individuals granted supernatural abilities by the Clock itself.***Jack has always been seen as a misfit—an odd boy with a strange way of thinking. After a life-changing accident, he finds himself shuffled between psychiatrists, as his parents search for answers they can’t seem to find.But everything changes the day a mysterious woman appears before him.From that moment on, Jack's life begins to unravel—and so does his place in a world far stranger than he ever imagined.

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The boundless universe was filled with all sorts of wonders.

I, Chen *Ping’an, only have one sword, to move mountains, turn the seas upside down, suppress demons, deal with gods, pluck stars, break rivers, destroy cities, and open the heavenly abode!

My name is Chen Ping’an, Ping’an* of Peace, and I am a swordsman.

The Midland world was full of wonders.

In the center of the world, there was a scholar who had once used a sword to slash out a waterfall of the Milky Way. This was the person he was the most proud of.

At the edge of the East Sea’s cliffs, there was a nameless Daoist who was unwilling to ascend to the peak of a mountain. He only wished for a cool breeze to brush against his face.

In the Western Pure Land, there was an old monk who liked to treat people to chicken soup and tell stories.

In the southern border of the Wilderness, there was a blind painter who controlled golden-armored puppets that were as tall as mountains to move the hundred thousand mountains, creating an embroidered picture.

An impoverished youth who grew up in the north. One day, he saw tens of thousands of Sword Kinesis Immortals above him, like a swarm of locusts crossing the border.

He wanted to see for himself the scholar that the storyteller had mentioned, the surging tides of the East Sea, the vast swamps of sand in the west, and the majestic mountains of the Southern Wasteland.

Thus, one day, the youth picked up the wooden sword and began to descend south.

Notes:

* Ping’an means peace

** The four directions here are just the four sides of the map of China and the earth. As for the World of Righteousness, it was only one of the four “World”.

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