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... ere all from team China, and he was just a rookie, weak and without the conviction to become strong. It could be said that he was the weakest in team China, even weaker than Liu Yu. Seeing so many powerful people die, there was a feeling in his heart that he couldn’t describe. It was difficult to bear and a sense of powerlessness, and he rather he stayed unconscious and didn’t wake up.


“Don’t overthink it. Not many of those who enter the realm have any superpowers, special techniques ...

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After quitting the national team, Qi Yue devoted herself to agronomy.

At a certain party, someone was booing, and whoever lost the shooting game would be kissed by Qi Yue.

Looking at Qi Yue, who was planting potatoes with a hoe with a sloppy face and a muddy face, in the experimental field, the big guy’s face turned green.

Everyone scrambled to target the bullseye for fear of being punished.

In the end, Gu Huai, the big male god of A, raised his hand and missed the target and shot a 0 ring.

When they met for the second time, Gu Huai was crushed by malicious provocations in the fencing hall.

Qi Yue couldn’t stand it any longer and was forced to take action.

When we met for the third time, Gu Huai was homeless on the side of the road.

In order to help him, Qi Yue spent three months of living expenses.

After many years.

Qi Yue looked at the world shooting record certificate, fencing championship trophy and dozens of property certificates with Gu Huai’s name written on it, and fell into contemplation: “…”

- Description from novelbuddy

I Keep Reincarnating, Why Is He Still Alive?Chapter 80 – Mist Tower
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[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.