MTL - Master Dan Dao - Chapter 32 Vicious mind

Rakna was not normal. No, unmistakably not.

Whether it was his appearance, his personality, his abilities, his identity, nothing about him had ever been banal. Was it his choice?

No. He was merely but a tormented soul doing its utmost to live the life it had learned to never enjoy.

Would being picked by a glorified universal abductor calling itself a system bring something out of him?

Would he finally learn to breathe in the pool of blood that suffocated him? The Harvester does not sow, he only collects.

All he has ever known to feel was loss and the only thing he can do is take.

He will devour their hearts and drink their blood if it is what it takes.

An unknown disciple from a small sect battling against the strongest in the cultivation world! The long journey working at cultivation, the realization of destiny and the chance to reach the apex of the world.

Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them. Zuo Mo is a zombie faced low level cultivator in a minor sect of a little world. Ever since he was picked up by the sect leader two years ago, he has no memories of his earlier life except a recurring nightmare. Navigating the rigid class structure and intricacies of the cultivation world, as one of the lowest possible of the lowest class, Zuo Mo’s dream is to earn money, and lots of it, through being a spiritual plant farmer.

A chance occurrence reveals that someone powerful had changed Zuo’s features and erased his mind. The money grubbing zombie decides to set out on a journey of cultivation to find out answers. Fate colludes with chance, the drums of war are beating, the ghost of his past is coming… …

- Description from novelupdates

I transmigrated into the gacha game I abandoned for 10 years.But, the state of the heroes I raised is strange.

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.