God's Song - Chapter 10

I, Mukouda Tsuyoshi, was caught up in a summoning circle into a different world where sword and magical skills are the norm.

However, when the summoners cast ‘Status Appraisal’ on us, the three other people who were summoned with me had [Heroes from Another World] in the occupation box, whereas I was the [Random Guy Caught Up in the Summoning Spell].

As for our ‘Skill Set’, the three Heroes had outrageous sounding skills rolling after their names like [Holy Sword Technique], [Holy Spear Technique] and [Sacred Magic].

In fact, I too have a skill you know? My one skill is called… [Net Super]…

Because it’s clearly not a combat skill, I am automatically treated like garbage.

Furthermore, the King of the country who had summoned us looked really shady.

As a veteran lightnovel reader, I can read the atmosphere well enough to come to the conclusion that ‘This is a bad world to be summoned into’.

Thus, it is decided. No matter what, I must get out of this castle as soon as possible and escape from this rotten country!

Jin Rou wanted to be a cultivator who defied the heavens, and surpassed all limits.

Unfortunately for him, he died, and now I’m stuck here. Arrogant young masters? Heavenly tribulations? Cultivating for days on end, then getting into life or death battles?

Yeah, no thanks. I’m getting out of here.

In which a transmigrator decides that the only winning move is not to play.

Mum ran away, dad’s crippled, and I’m about to be sold to a brothel.

Qiao Xiaomai rolled up her sleeves in anger: If you’ve taken from me, regurgitate it.

If you’ve seized what’s mine, return it.

All scumbags, clear off.

A certain man finished tidying up the mess, rolled up his sleeves and pulled Qiao Xiaomai into a light laugh: “My lady, if you’re this fiery and domineering at night, your husband…”

Qiao Xiaomai raised an eyebrow, patted the spot next to her: “My dear, come warm the bed~”

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.