MTL - Farming in the Mountains: Max Level Jiaojiao Is Three Years Old - Chapter 1970 Extra: A New Life 85 (Jiang Yue and Xue Yan)

Left out during the elementary school picnic.

I have calculated for people before I was born, and I have all five yin, and I am born with fierce ghosts. A knowledgeable gentleman said that I will not live to be seven years old. After death, I will cultivate blood-clothed little ghosts to harm people.

In order to save me, my grandmother married me a child-in-law, so that I had an Ann birthday, although I later discovered that the daughter-in-law and sister-in-law are not human…

I have been lingering and panting since I was a child, and I have been accustomed to accepting it, but my grandmother was killed.

For this reason, regardless of karma, I inherited my grandmother’s job of raising ghosts and vowed to send everyone who killed her to hell.

- Description from MTL

...[Inside an underground basement]“You are going to die for nothing, hahahaha,” the old man's voice thundered through the room, sending chills down my spine.Step.With a swift and ruthless motion, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air and slashing my throat, crimson droplets staining the darkness.“We'll see,” I whispered defiantly, my final words escaping as a mere breath against the impending darkness.Slowly, inexorably, my consciousness slipped away, and I descended into a deep, unfathomable slumber.“Huh!?” My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself seated in a bustling tavern, the air thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses.In front of me stood a captivating lady, her beauty juxtaposed with an angry furrow upon her brow, threatening to shatter the harmony of the jovial scene.“Don't follow me around!” Her words pierced the air like shards of ice, the intensity of her emotions palpable as she cast a resentful glare in my direction, before swiftly departing from the tavern....Am I trapped within the confines of a game? The fragments of my shattered common sense scattered before me, leaving me to question the very fabric of my reality.