MTL - Rebirth of Hong Kong 1981 - Chapter 941 arrange

In a world where magic was abundant and supernatural creatures existed, Jin Valter lived as a fallen genius. Being the son of two A-Ranked Hunters, Jin had inherited his father’s keen eye for martial arts and his mother’s innate talent for magic. Alas, before Jin could reach his full potential, an Outer Demon attack left his soul crippled and his body weakened beyond repair.

Now, Jin lives out his days bound to the hospital bed with nothing but his brains to keep him company. Gone were the days when his peers hailed him as a genius as he struggled to even conjure a spell with his body falling apart.

However, it would all change when on the Night of the Blood Moon, a unique visitor paid him a visit…

“Introduce yourself!”The smile on Aoba's face slowly converged, and he became extremely serious, which made his face in the shadow of the backlight even more terrifying.“My name is Yamanaka Aoba, fourteen years old and live in the Anbu dormitory. I work in the Konohagakure Intelligence Division and live an ordinary quiet life every day...”Aoba transmigrated to the world of Naruto, became an ordinary Yamanaka clan member. Due to his frail body, the clan arranged for him to become Anbu in the Konohagakure Intelligence Division and conduct mind-reading interrogation work.When he didn't know how to pass the level, he awakened the Mind Reading System. Not only could he read memory, but he could also get rewards!Aoba learned from the memories of those who need to be interrogated that the ninja world was far more dangerous than he imagined, so he decided to grow wretchedly in the Konohagakure Intelligence Division and would never waver before becoming invincible ninja world.Ten years later, the Kyuubi Rampage broke out.Seeing that Kyuubi's claws were about to smash the Konohagakure Intelligence Division, Aoba had no choice but to make a move.“Kyuubi, you are too strong. You should still be sealed!”This is translated novel.

Vincent van Gogh, the painter who refused to be an accessory Of power and painted with his soul at the tip of a brush, was not understood by anyone and had to die like a madman, and he woke up in 21st century Korea.

Like a wheat field melted with gold, like a sunflower that swallowed the sun, a dazzling painter once again takes the brush.

The world I transmigrated into was a dark fantasy game universe, devoid of hope or dreams.Doesn’t feel like it at all, though.