Dungeon Life - Chapter Seventy-Two: To New Friends

Crying blood and tears, she pledged a poisonous vow. The gods did not fail her. She was sent back to a decade ago. The legitimate daughter of Jiang family returned from hell.

Adrian Voss was a forgotten beta tester—erased by a corrupt game company that put profit over players.Now reborn in Primordial Abyss with a glitched class that lets him control dungeon bosses, he doesn’t grind levels… he grinds players.Every monster he subjugates becomes a weapon. Every raid boss he enslaves earns him passive income. And every overconfident guild that steps into his domain?They drop loot when they die.But this isn't just another OP power trip. Adrian doesn't win because he's stronger—he wins because he's smarter. He lays traps like a raid leader, exploits mechanics like a dev, and rewrites the system from the shadows.From dungeons to PvP, he turns the most advanced gaming system ever built into a weapon that stabs its creators in the back.Now the streamer assassins, sponsored guilds, and even the developers are hunting for the one they call...The Dungeon Phantom.Too bad they don’t realize:The real dungeon isn’t the game.It’s the one they’re walking into.Let the hunt begin.

“Hey, Yoshi-kun. I think you’re——”

Hearing that voice for the first time stopped me in my tracks. On my way home from school. On the playing field of our junior high, and at the bookshop in front of the station. And then in the empty lot where the white cat slept. Shiina Yuki, the strange girl who somehow knew all about me, always approached me like that.

We laughed, cried, got angry, held hands. Again and again, we repeated those disappearing memories and ephemeral promises. That’s why I never knew. I never knew the value of Yuki’s smiles or the meaning of her tears. Nor even the singular sentiment behind her many ‘Nice to meet you’s.

This is a captivating, heartrending tale of meetings and partings.

Vincent van Gogh, the painter who refused to be an accessory Of power and painted with his soul at the tip of a brush, was not understood by anyone and had to die like a madman, and he woke up in 21st century Korea.

Like a wheat field melted with gold, like a sunflower that swallowed the sun, a dazzling painter once again takes the brush.