A Saint Who Was Adopted by the Grand Duke - Chapter 151: Downfall, Windfall (V)

Everyone said that Yi Qing was the number one Sword Cultivator in the world, with a swordsmanship and cultivation that no one could surpass. Whether it was when he was cultivating in the Lower Realm, or when he was in the Ten Heavens of the Upper Realm, he has always been undefeated.

A long time later, Ah Zhao and her younger generations started chatting about her own story.

“At first, I was selected by the system to become the man’s plug-in to help him reach the pinnacle of life.”

“-Then what happened afterward?”

Ah Zhao lit a cigarette and her expression had great changes:

“-Later, I became the wife of the Male God.”

- Description from novelupdates

Echoes of the Lost Elf – Back Cover SynopsisA legend long forgotten. A war long past. A magus who vanished into history.A thousand years ago, Historias Everglen, the greatest magician to ever walk the earth, mysteriously disappeared after leading the world to victory in the First War against the Void. The high elf, creator of Castellas Academy, the most prestigious magic institution, faded into myth—his name spoken only in whispers, his fate unknown.But history does not stay buried forever.When a group of young students, lost in the Everglen Forest, stumbles upon an enigmatic figure in the heart of the ancient woods, they unknowingly awaken an echo of the past. Unrecognized, Historias decides to return to his own academy—not as its master, but as a student. Beneath his youthful guise lies an immortal being who has spent a millennium mastering magic, swordsmanship, and alchemy in solitude.As shadows of the Void begin to stir once more, the world stands on the brink of another catastrophe. Enemies rise, secrets unravel, and forgotten legends take their place in the present. But one question lingers:Will the world recognize its lost protector before it’s too late?

[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.