MTL - After I Became a Zombie, My Face Is Paralyzed - Chapter 37 please be confident

Luo Jing traveled through, and traveled to the outer door of the Demonic Soul Refining Sect, and became a miscellaneous fish disciple.

There is a powerful senior sister in the door, who has been pestering him. Just when Luo Jing was thinking about whether to “be sensible” and practiced at night, he found that his girlfriend had also crossed over with him, and the two could meet in a dream.

The girlfriend actually traveled to the Immortal Gate of the Right Way and became the direct disciple of the elder of the Immortal Sect.

Shen Qingxuan: Can you stay away from those demon girls?

Luo Jing: I’ve tried my best to stay away from them! It was they who wanted to make me a stove, and I didn’t want to!

This book is also known as “My Husband with a Demon-sucking Female Physique”, “In order to keep my boyfriend, I must practice hard”, “My fairy world can’t be a long-distance relationship”

- Description from novelbuddy

When a person dies, they either die light as a feather (aka unimportant) or heavy as Mt. Tai (aka very important).

Cal was the pride of his guild, the one that other Initiates looked up to. Then he died. So did his guild.His understanding of the world shattered before his death. His guild was nothing compared to others, which meant he was the best of the worst.When Cal was given a second chance, he wouldn’t repeat his mistakes. Who cared about being a [Mage] when it would just mean death? He would survive, even if it meant being something he sneered at in his previous life.A [Farmer].Of course, when did anything go according to plan? Never.

[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.