MTL - Super Soldier King - Chapter 8145 no day shot

‘Royal Roader,’ the game that I ruled as an overlord was ending its service. Shit! It was my life’s only pleasure.

The last day! I used all of my strength and in-game connections to defeat the final boss monster, Demon Heros.

As a reward, I earned a Marble of Wishes.[Please state your wish.]My wish? [Royal Roader’s renewal as reality.]I was just joking. I really only wrote it as a joke…

A young man plagued by recurring nightmares finds himself visiting a blind fortune teller, who sends him to a world of martial arts that looks a lot like the wuxia stories he used to read.

In the sky of this world, a tome shines every now and then, revealing the hierarchy of mighty beings that seek power amid troubled times. Determined to unravel the mysteries of his involuntary journey and the secrets of the world he has ended up in, he endeavors to ascend the tome’s rankings, all while looking for a path back home.

Official Chinese blurb

Wandering the jianghu with a blade and wine, where beauties’ grace is filling one’s mind.

A youth, saber on his back and wine gourd at the waist, strides forth, yet the jianghu of his heart seems only more elusive;

With each flipped page of the Tome of Troubled Times, decades of nights soaked in rain pass over the jianghu.

As he suddenly turns to look back, he finds that the mortal world has shattered in his wake.

“Y-young master, the Lord is requesting your presence.”

I looked at myself in the mirror as a maid's voice, laced with trepidation, reached my ears.

“Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

“I understand, y-young master.”

I paid no mind to her quivering presence, my gaze fixed on my reflection.

And this is exactly why I despise this character, Yes, He is a villain with my name but does it matter, no, the problem is this guy's weight he is so heavy that this tub of lard is weighing me down, literally.

For someone who prides themselves on muscle, nothing's worse than “fat,” and this guy before me? Well, he's a prime example of that.

“I suppose I need a workout.”

Reaching the door, exhaustion gripped me and I found myself gasping for breath. It was unbelievable – this body was so darn heavy.

After an arduous struggle, I finally made my way out of the room, causing servants carrying a litter¹ to scurry over. They lowered it, creating a path for me to step onto it.

I tried to ignore the spectacle – it was this pampering that turned this fatty into a giant tire. Pushing the annoyance aside, I began to move, managing only about 10 steps before my legs gave out.

Damn it. Seriously? I collapsed, leaving the twenty servants to hastily lift me and place me onto the litter. For me, it felt more like a stretcher. There I was, sprawled on it like some mountain, panting heavily.

“You damn god! I hope the protagonist of your favorite novel gets NTRed!”

“We're here, young master.”

Can you believe it? his father's office is just thirty steps away from this pumpkin room, yet he insists on using a litter.

“Give me a hand.”

I ordered while cursing this hefty body under my breath.

“Oh, come, come, my dear child. How was your day?”

I glanced at the middle-aged man, his face exuding warmth and care.

As for my feelings? This old man right here is the reason this chubby exists. Not that I give a darn about my indulgent father.

“I'm alright, Dad.”

Yes, imagine this: as a noble, this old man spoiled this pumpkin so much that he thinks he can go around scolding the mansion's maids and servants.

“Take a seat. Hey, fetch his chair!”

You might wonder why he doesn't sit on a regular chair. Well, that's because the chair is custom-made to accommodate this hippo-sized frame.

“What's going on, Dad?”

Seriously, why would he summon this big old hippo over to his quarters? There's gotta be a reason for it....

“Your fiancee is coming tomorrow”

……………………………………………………………

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I struggled until I was thirty-eight and couldn’t afford a house. I had to pay a gift of three hundred thousand in advance to get married. I lived frugally and frugally for most of my life until my liver was broken. But where was the money? Who made the money?

Jiang Qin, who harbored countless grievances, was reborn at the age of eighteen. The only thought he had when he opened his eyes was to start a business and make money.

The first step is to snatch back the love letter you sent, turn it over, and write three lines in the school belle’s astonished eyes:

You can’t work for anything, and you can stay with a rich woman if you can.

You can make more money if you lose it, but you can make more money if you lose your conscience!

Social animals, never slaves!

As for love? Dogs don’t even talk about that stuff!

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