MTL - City: From Inheriting a Courtyard To a Giant - Chapter 682

God Level player Lin Yi was transported into a game.

There are many familiar sects ——– Shaolin, Wudang, Emei, QuanZhen, Mount Hua, Mount Song, Mount Heng, Mount Heng, Mount Tai, Peach Blossom Island, Sun Moon Polytheism, QingCheng….

There are many Legendary Martial Art ——– Nine Yang manual, Nine Yin manual, The Passage of Time, Six Meridian Divine Sword, Riding the waves with small steps, Taiji, Subduing Dragon 18 Palms, Yi Jin Jing, Tendon-Altering Sutra, BeiMing Manual, Eight wild Six fit i alone honour, DuGu Nine Sword, SunFlower Manual….

At a time when the court is weak, Martial World in disorder

In order to protect own cherished thing —

Lin Yi entered the stage

This is gradual growth of juvenile in disorderly Martial world, in the end become generations of giants, Martial arts don’t die, rise from the ashes!

- Description from Novelupdates

21st century kid got onto a virtual game 600 years into the future, with a freak combination of events gets to play as a NPC!

The first system job is to undertake the roles of helping new players create their character. Want to choose as one of the hidden race? OK, this is a slavery contract, up to you to sign it or not!

Entering the game as a player and creating a personal game character, the only advantage I have… The choice of selecting a powerful race!

Walking alone to the peak, bringing the present world to advance by leaps and bounds, the abnormal path starts from this first step!

- Description from Novelupdates

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.

There is a famous fairytale. A kindhearted girl whose father and stepmother got married and became a family of five with her two stepsisters. The poor girl who was condemned by her stepmother and stepsisters when her father died. The very fairytale, Cinderella.