Becoming Immortal Through Getting Married - Chapter 121 - : Masked Heroine

After quitting the national team, Qi Yue devoted herself to agronomy.

At a certain party, someone was booing, and whoever lost the shooting game would be kissed by Qi Yue.

Looking at Qi Yue, who was planting potatoes with a hoe with a sloppy face and a muddy face, in the experimental field, the big guy’s face turned green.

Everyone scrambled to target the bullseye for fear of being punished.

In the end, Gu Huai, the big male god of A, raised his hand and missed the target and shot a 0 ring.

When they met for the second time, Gu Huai was crushed by malicious provocations in the fencing hall.

Qi Yue couldn’t stand it any longer and was forced to take action.

When we met for the third time, Gu Huai was homeless on the side of the road.

In order to help him, Qi Yue spent three months of living expenses.

After many years.

Qi Yue looked at the world shooting record certificate, fencing championship trophy and dozens of property certificates with Gu Huai’s name written on it, and fell into contemplation: “…”

- Description from novelbuddy

Due to a bug in the game, Ren Changsheng accidentally left the game idle for ten million years.As he watched the endless stream of experience points, all Ren Changsheng could think was, 'I really do not want to level up!'

Mira is determined to be a botanist—no matter how dangerous or violent it may become. Mira made two requests upon entering the multiverse: a botany class to further her research and to be dropped off in an isolated forest far from the violent god-rearing system BS going on. She was granted both—but not in the way she expected. The system abandoned her in a hellishly dangerous forest—where she earned a rare class that excelled at killing things.

[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.