Battle Royale of the Sinners - Chapter 500 Price of Survival

As a salted fish, Yun Su, who never pays in games and always relies on prostitutes to fight Shenhao players, wrote down his 20th birthday wish on a notebook with trembling hands: immortality.

When I woke up, my dream came true, but I almost cried. Is the world of cultivation so cold?

- Description from novelbuddy

Ding Yue had just traversed into the Parallel World and flunked his College Entrance Examination.To avoid his parents' double-punishment, Ding Yue forged an admission notice, created a fake university website, and rented a space near University Town to discretely run a counterfeit university in hope of fooling his parents.Things didn’t go as expected.On the first day of the term, the registration scene of his fake university surprisingly turned out to be a big hit...PS: This is a story filled with light-hearted farming narrative, everyday life, extravagantly rich and talented characters, technology, and top students... Feel free to add it to your bookshelf if you like it, and don’t forget to leave a recommendation vote~

One minute, she was spiraling out of her scooter, watching in horror as her fried chicken flew into the horizon. The next minute, she was signing the contract to become a mother to his sons while staring into his glacier blue eyes.“The contract is effective as of now” He announced, as he dropped the pen. His brow was lifted challengingly and his voice reverberated around the room, bounced and sent zings of electricity down her spine.She tilted her head to a side, studying him covertly as she smiled menacingly. She was going to make him regret his decision.Let the games begin..!

[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.