The Author Is Speechless - Chapter 137: A God Candidate

Theodore Griffith was a master of Reality. He understood the parallel universe in the form of another reality. He was aware that someone’s wish, story, or pure imagination could give birth to a new reality just like his own. Hence, he planned to find the creator of his reality by roaming among the realities. This time, he entered a new reality connected to several other realities. However, what made him certain the most was that this reality was connected to the person who created his reality. He knew that fact because of the ability he gained in this world. He could actually see people’s comments, allowing him to realize that his entire life and reality were born from a story. “Hehe. You have made a mistake in making me realize this. With the readers on my back, I can force you, the author, to make a plot for us to meet.” Theo said while giggling. “That’s why I’m counting on you guys.”

The Chinese medicine major who stayed up all night to cultivate immortals fell to the ground, and then woke up to the beginning of the Tang Dynasty!

It turns out that this is not the Tang Dynasty in a history textbook, nor the mythical Tang Dynasty in Journey to the West.

However, an unexpected trip to the rat country opened up the mystery of the cultivation path.

Li Dandao, who was inspired to become a member of the immortal spectrum of the Tang Dynasty, started a journey to become a Taoist doctor.

Inherit a small pharmacy at the beginning! Being immortal is not a dream.

What? Your name is Lu Yan? What? Are you Zhong Liquan?

How can the Eight Immortals of Shangdong be without me, Li Dan?

Beijing famous prostitute Bai Peony! Ghost-devouring scholar Zhong Kui.

Qinglian Sword Immortal Li Taibai!

Merry Tang characters! How can it be without me?

Here comes the wine! Sword come! Poetry!

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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

—— Dickens《A Tale of Two Cities》

I made myself a ghost back to life from death, with hatred in my bones and conspiracy brewed for years, sinking into the marsh, into the abyss. All I want is to bury the rotten roots, growing thistles and thorns which can kill like upas, to stab into the hypocritical civilization.

In the bottom of the muck……I found my lucida.

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