Coiling Dragon - Book 21 – The Peak - Chapter 41 – Can He Actually Be…?

In China’s modern martial arts society, Wu Xinghe was history’s youngest grandmaster of martial arts. He was invincible. Because of a strange incident, he was reincarnated as Qin Wushuang, a poor aristocratic boy in an entirely different world with its own set of rules. With his strong will and passion, he began his journey to pursue the highest peak of martial arts!

‘I’m sure I was……dead.’

Annette Bavaria, a woman from the most prestigious noble family in the Deltium kingdom , returned back to the day of her wedding.

The groom’s face was fierce as they entered the hall for the ceremony. He clutched her arm tightly because he hated Annette terribly.

Now they were going to have a hellish marriage again, hurting each other.

***

“Don’t do this, Rafael.”

“Shh, Annette. If you really want me to stop, please don’t open your dirty mouth. I’m going crazy right now because I want to squeeze it right in.”

She looked at her husband tearing her clothes with tearful eyes.

He was still horribly mean, arrogant, and a beast who only coveted her body.

If she didn’t want to die again, she had to tame this wicked beast somehow.

There was no other option.

The gold mine silver mine diamond mine is almost weak, and the mysterious miners system is in hand.

Although there is no manual and no elf, every day I am trying to find out, but my brother can dig it out.

From the practice of meditation, alchemy materials, spaceships, and mechs, life is different.

There is no level that can’t be upgraded, there is no task that can’t get rid of it, but what is the system doing? Come ~ come! Still don’t say it, give me the first girl! Brother will plan again.

- Description from Uukanshu translation

[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.