Harry Potter: The Legend of Nero Ravenclaw - Chapter 47: Little Heirs and Founders

I reincarnated into a fantasy world. Since I somehow got born again, I resolved myself to live diligently once more. But, putting that aside, my entire village burning up and disappearing when I’m 8-year old f*cking crossed the line. F*cking shit-f*cking crossed the line!

The rivers and lakes carry wine with swords, the waist is slender and the palm is light.

The young man carried a long knife on his shoulder, and hung wine on his waist, striding forward, but the rivers and lakes in his heart were vaguely visible.

Turning a page in the book of troubled times, the rivers and lakes have been raining nightly for decades.

Looking back suddenly, the world has been shattered.

- Description from novelbuddy

At age 23, Liam Sanders had tasted everything life had to throw at him. As an orphan at birth and a victim of the system, he lived his life believing that he was just an ordinary person. His life was filled with misery, but there was one ray of hope in his life- his girlfriend.That lasted until he found her cheating on him in the middle of his apartment with his best friend. Feeling betrayed, Liam sought to end it all by taking his life, and just as planned, he got hit by the truck in the middle of the busy street.It should have been Liam’s end, but for some reason, he survived and woke up three days after in a hospital with no injuries and a whole new set of memories in his mind.And that is how he became the Immortal Warlock in the Modern World.He was oppressed once, and now, it is time for Liam to oppress everyone in the world.

[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.