MTL - Shining Marvel Saints - v2 Chapter 391 I praise you 3000 times a day

“I have a home to go back to.”

Mori Tenko is the self-proclaimed ace of the going-home club. He tries to set a new record on his usual route home from school, but gets hit by a truck when he tries to save a strange puppy.

Then he’s picked up by a fat old man who calls himself a god, and is sent to a different world called Veriathes, where swords, magic, and skills rule the world, and where he is told to live out his life cheerfully and happily.

As soon as he arrives there, Norimi is subjected to a harsh baptism. Realizing that the world is not easy, he throws himself into battle, training himself to survive and protect his place in the world.

This is the story of a young man who later became known as the Lord of the Deep Temple and shook the world.

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Known as the country’s top onmyoji, Yuuma Kisaragi, who lived to the age of 99, awoke to find himself in an unfamiliar forest. A voice echoed in his mind, revealing that he had been reincarnated into another world at the age of 20.“Good morning, Master. Skip the greetings and please defeat the goblin in front of you.”The voice belonged to a skill acquired during reincarnation called “AI,” designed to assist Yuuma in his new life. When the skill, AI, took over the form of a golden-haired fox yokai, the familiar shape of Yuuma’s shikigami, he decided to embark on a new life alongside AI-chan.The onmyoji and AI-chan’s second life began, tackling various challenges and formidable enemies with the strongest spells and shikigami.

In this brand new era of Beast Taming, who can rightfully claim the title of the King of Beasts?

[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.