MTL - Legend of the Great Saint - v11 Chapter 71 Similar

To be is to have a soul. The soul begets a will. Wills accumulate into mysterious psychic forces, weaving secret domains within the fabric of reality.

In the myriad realms, legends rise and fall in the countless eras.

Yuanbao was born in ancient times, the only girl in three generations, the nickname is Jiaojiao, the big name is Bao, this is a proper script for the group favorite heroine.

However, Zhuangzi next door suddenly came to the young lady of the high official’s family in the city.

This young lady is a direct descendant, but her mother passed away early, her father continued, and the young lady was not welcomed, so she was sent out of the city.

“There is an ominous foreboding!”

Yuan Bao thought so.

“Little sister, you see how pitiful the little sister is, can’t you be a little sympathetic?”

A brother looked at the lady next door with pity on his face.

Yuanbao raised his hand and a pot lid flew over: “People are pitiful? They don’t have to worry about food and clothing, do they need you to be pitiful?”

“Good fight!”

Grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, many brothers, clapped their hands together.

A certain young lady is knowledgeable and reasonable, and said, “Being habitual is like killing a child. Your sister needs to be well educated!”

“roll!”

A brother stared directly, “My little sister is beautiful and kind, which one likes her?”

- Description from novelbuddy

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.