Ihoujin, Dungeon ni Moguru - Chapter 117: At The End Of The Festival… III

Even in his dreams, Li Tianming can’t stop himself from laughing! Why? Because, his family pets are all the Primordial Chaos Beasts of myth!

Mu Sheng had researched quantum mechanics and engineered cross-sea bridges in her past life. However, she became a small-time celebrity plagued with a bad image overnight. This sad foolish woman was made to marry a sick man to counteract his bad luck. Even when her kidney and marrow were taken from her, she was glad to help. Memories of how her body’s original owner sacrificed everything for a scum flooded Mu Sheng’s mind, making her eyes roll.

The news exploded in the entertainment industry. Mu Sheng performed a 1440 degree somersault when she skied on an entertainment program and left everyone awestruck. The anti-fans felt she must have edited the image or hired a stunt double. Two weeks later, the International Ski Federation invited her to join them as a lifetime member. In time, government research, hacking, calligraphy and brush painting, and music associations all reached out for her to join their ranks one after another.

So what? She ended up marrying a useless man who was on the brink of death and would become a widow in a matter of time. Things did not quite play out as everyone expected. The useless Mr. Li did not die and ended up healthier than ever. He even shockingly turned out to be a mysterious big shot in the corporate world. Mu Sheng did not wind up a widow and Mr Li. loved her to bits.

Mu Sheng glanced at a man. “Now that you have been healed, can you sign the divorce agreement?”

Li Hanchen smiled. “There’s one more thing you haven’t healed.”

Mu Sheng frowned. “Are you still unwell?”

Li Hanchen said, “I love you to death and there’s no cure for it.”

He had found a ray of hope amid the darkness and her name was Mu Sheng.

I fell into a wannabe murim.But apparently martial arts is supposed to be difficult?Hm… Is it really that bad?

In the Kunlun Snow Palace, a sage once said, those who pass away wander, while the living cannot let go.Once the soul departs, it will wither like the autumn grass.Those who are reborn from the dead, existing apart from the mortal realm, shall be shunned by all celestial sects and smitten as undead demons.On this day, a youth awakens from within a coffin, his blood dry and his bones chilled, to find himself a century old upon opening his eyes.A single tear from a sage awaited, a constant companion, may unravel the dreams of the past.Seeking not immortality but a mundane death, not to lament with the ages over lost love and resentment, but only wishing to grow old with tenderness in this lifetime, beneath the white clouds that hold no envy for the heavenly realms.