I Help the Richest Man Spend Money to Prevent Disasters - Chapter 112

By the fourth year of Su Wan's career, every league rookie hears the same warning from their coach and veteran teammates: “You can try to impress him. You can even try to defend him. But no matter what—no matter if he hurls the most brutal insults your way—never, ever talk shit to him!”

In the near future, a space channel connecting the other world suddenly appeared on Blue Star, and a large number of other world monsters poured into the homeland where human beings depended for survival.

Human civilization has shrunk sharply and had to hide in the base city to survive.

Only warriors can lead human beings to open up living space and regain lost land.

However, martial arts requires talent, and not everyone can become a martial artist.

People with outstanding martial arts talent can not only advance quickly and break through limits, but also optimize their exercises and benefit future generations, and are admired by all mankind.

By chance, Lu Heng discovered that his martial arts talent could continue to evolve…

- Description from novelbuddy

After marriage—On Valentine's Day, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”Wrapped up in her blanket and close to falling asleep, Xia Wan'an mumbled, “Sleep.”On Christmas Day, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”With her arms around her pillow, Xia Wan'an casually replied, “Sleep.”On their wedding anniversary, holding a cup of water, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”Cozied up in bed, with sleepy eyes, Xia Wan'an looked at Han Jingnian, wary of the water he might spill on the bed. She thought for a moment, then replied, “With you... together.”

[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.