MTL - Smallholder Farmer - Chapter 550 The hidden thing of Jinjia and the 8 words of soup

Human civilization expanded into space, and its territory spanned across galaxies.

During this great trend of interstellar migration, Zhou Qing accidentally awakened the power of traveling to various Astral Realms. He was able to create [Astral Realm Apostles] as vessels for his soul and project them onto different realms. This allowed him to travel through various worlds with different identities.

His unremarkable life was met with an unexpected twist of fate. Every time he created a new Apostle, it was like being reborn.

Yet, slowly, he realized that the Human civilization wasn’t completely ignorant about the existence of other realms…

——

Multiple-dimensional worlds, multi-dimensional factions. This is an clash of fate between realms!

And he is the only being who is able to travel amongst the realms in countless different shapes and forms — The Astral Apostle!

Name: [Art Tavel (Zhuang Zhou)]

Occupation: [Demon Warlock]

Class: [1]

Bloodline: [Abyss (0.03%), Human (94.97%), Darkness (5%)]

The descendants of the Tavel family, the bloodline of demon warlocks that had declined, had another “dark” bloodline after the arrival of Zhuang Zhou.

With this bloodline, he can summon monsters from the dark world.

The first thing he thought of was not to drive the summons to help fight, but to wonder if the equipment of the dark world would explode after the summons died?

- Description from novelbuddy

When he woke up, Yang Yuan found himself reborn.

When he was one year old, “Ah, not only rebirth, but also transmigration.”

At the age of three, “Goldfinger is finally in place!”

Portable space is handy.

Fourteen years old, “What the hell is my golden finger?”

Yang Yuan screamed in the sky…

Thirty-year-old, Yang Yuan, who was hugging from left to right, stood on Emperor Tread Peak, pointing to the vast land, “This is the country that I have conquered!”

Omg, golden fingers are so fragrant!

- Description from novelbuddy

Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

- Description from Novelupdates