My Items Have an Upgrade Panel - Chapter 119 - : Countercharge? Directly Crushed

As soon as Lu Xuan woke up, he became an ordinary spiritual planter in Sanxiufang City, guarding a one-acre three-point spiritual field, and living in the world of practice.

Fortunately, I accidentally discovered that every time a spiritual plant matures, I can get extra rewards.

Harvest a sword grass and get a sword pill.

Harvest a Xuan Chong vine and get a share of Yin Xingsha.

Harvest a Youquan flower and get a piece of Zhiyan Pill Recipe.

…

From then on, he guarded his spiritual field peacefully, and sat and watched the world of practice turbulent and vicissitudes.

“What about fighting skills, exploring secret realms, seeking immortal fate, obtaining magic weapons…all have nothing to do with me!”

“I just want to farm quietly.”

- Description from novelbuddy

Aron was a child of the unorthodox beast monger race that thrived in what many considered hell itself, Limbo. A place full of chaos, death and misery where only the strong, cunning and cruel survived.

Follow Aron’s vicious journey as he faces the most dreadful of beasts, the most talented of humans, and many other races for their power and territory, all for the sake of pursuing knowledge and true understanding of Limbo and the secrets it holds.

An existence that grows to be feared, respected and even worshipped by some wherever he goes.

This is the bloody tale of Aron Limbo.

“Why would I do something that doesn’t benefit me? Be selfish and be cruel because life will never take pity on you. If you can’t accept this truth then you and I walk very different paths.”

[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.