Bank Of The Universe - Chapter 545 - Killing King Zhou!

A young man with no spiritual roots. A person who is thought of as trash by others. He constantly acquires various items thought of as waste by the cultivation world. No matter if it is garbage pills or useless materials, he will take them all!

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Reborn into the body of a poor young boy in an unknown village in another world, Lu Qing felt quite helpless.Fortunately, he awakened an ability to see through the information of objects, which gave him a bit of capital to survive.He looked at a weed by the road.[Cow bone grass, average quality, medicinal, highly effective in treating bone injuries.]He looked at a red carp in the river.[Red moon carp, excellent quality, delicious meat, a top-grade nourishing food.]He looked at a wild rabbit in the mountains.[Gray rabbit, ordinary wild rabbit, edible.]...With his innate ability, Lu Qing gradually established himself in the village, able to survive.Just when he thought he would lead a peaceful life in this ancient world with low productivity,one day, he suddenly saw a figure sweeping across the sky...

When Lu Wu opened his eyes, he found that the world had changed completely.The world before him did not have fancy magic, nor ultimate Dou Qi.What it had were summoners that form contracts with summoned beasts.And coincidentally, he was such a summoner, although not a professional one, and his first summoned beast was a piece of crap.But that was fine, because he also had a golden finger!

The boundless universe is full of many wonders.

I, Chen Ping, only have one sword!

I can move mountains, overturn the seas upside down, suppress demons, slap the face of gods, pluck the stars, break rivers, destroy cities, and… open the heavenly abode!

***

The Midland world was full of wonders.

In the center of the world, there was a scholar who had once used a sword to slash out a waterfall of the Milky Way. This was the person he was the most proud of.

At the edge of East Sea’s cliffs, there was a nameless Daoist who was unwilling to ascend to the peak of a mountain. He only wished for a cool breeze to brush against his face.

In the Western Pure Land, there was an old monk who liked to treat people to chicken soup and tell stories.

In the southern border of the Wilderness, there was a blind painter who controlled golden-armored puppets that were as tall as mountains to move the hundred thousand mountains, creating an embroidered picture.

A impoverished youth who grew up in the north. One day, he saw tens of thousands of Sword Kinesis Immortals above him, like a swarm of locusts crossing the border.

He wanted to see for himself the scholar that the storyteller had mentioned, the surging tides of the East Sea, the vast swamps of sand in the west, and the majestic mountains of the Southern Wasteland.

Thus, one day, the youth picked up the wooden sword and began to descend south.

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