Swordmeister of Rome - Chapter 11

Beneath the peaceful façade of the modern world, an undercurrent of shocking crimes roils in the underbelly of society.

If he wanted to boss around, he could do whatever he wanted. I would continue to farm, but if he tried to attack me, then he would not live to see another day.

Zhao Hai was a shut-in until he was transmigrated to another world with a farm and taken over the body of a fallen noble. The land that the noble had was one that could not grow anything. He also had a fiance who was the heir to a principality. To make matters even worse, he was talentless in martial arts and magic where he couldn’t even learn both.

“So what if I can’t do magic? I have my farm. Let’s see you try and attack me! I’ll let my bugs out to devour all of your military rations! I’ll put pesticides in your water source and grow weeds on your land! Let’s see you try and attack me after that!”

“What? You’ll hire assassins to kill me? Try and do that when I’m hiding inside my farmhouse. Once that is over, I’ll rid your country of all your food sources! Your citizens will come after you instead of you coming after me!”

The shut-in had a slightly foul personality. This is a story of how he, and his farm, became a nightmare to the people of a world of swords and magic.

After a mortal accident left him dead, the soul of Wang Wei was sent into the sacred body of an unborn child in an ancient world of cultivation where only the strongest survives.

Along with the ancient soul of an immortal taoist, follow Wang Wei from a small clan as he strives to carve a name for his clan and himself.

No one knows when the first Clough door appeared. All people know is that a new era began when it was pushed open.Fortresses, sublimators, pillars of star essence, three-dimensional armaments, infinite energy, who can escape the sweeping tide of the times?In the abyss, the reverse realm, the skins, the alien gods, the mad king, the rulers, and the dark creatures, all howl in madness!Inside the black mist, the demons and ghosts crawl forward as a cross-dimensional migration silently brews.