MTL - Fairy Tail: The Nameless Grim Reaper - Chapter 295 The storm brought by Angel~

Zhou Youlin, a famous ice queen of the special forces. During an accident in her mission, she was betrayed by her squad mates and was shot twice. She died on the spot. When she woke up again, she became the useless madam of a rice family and was a resentful wife who was neglected by her husband. Her son, too, was neglected.“If I’m not mistaken, we’re already divorced. You’re currently invading my home, my dear ex.” Zhao Youlin raised her chin and sat at the end of the couch with her legs folded. She looked prideful.Mu Tingfeng was expressionless. “We can get married again.”Zhou Youlin quirked her eyebrows. Then, she swung her hand, and a large number of handsome men’s pictures were spread on the table.“Baby, be a good boy and choose someone you like to be your stepdaddy, okay?”Mu Tingfeng’s expression… turned dark.

A young man plagued by recurring nightmares finds himself visiting a blind fortune teller, who sends him to a world of martial arts that looks a lot like the wuxia stories he used to read.

In the sky of this world, a tome shines every now and then, revealing the hierarchy of mighty beings that seek power amid troubled times. Determined to unravel the mysteries of his involuntary journey and the secrets of the world he has ended up in, he endeavors to ascend the tome’s rankings, all while looking for a path back home.

Official Chinese blurb

Wandering the jianghu with a blade and wine, where beauties’ grace is filling one’s mind.

A youth, saber on his back and wine gourd at the waist, strides forth, yet the jianghu of his heart seems only more elusive;

With each flipped page of the Tome of Troubled Times, decades of nights soaked in rain pass over the jianghu.

As he suddenly turns to look back, he finds that the mortal world has shattered in his wake.

[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.