MTL - Legend of the Asura - Chapter 21 God of War

Lu Xingzhi's eighteenth birthday gift was a handsome and wealthy fiancé.From then on, she bid farewell to her life as a lonely orphan and transformed directly into a glamorous, wealthy beauty, stepping onto the pinnacle of life.She began a life of slapping down jerks, basking in the happiness of being cherished.“Uncle, do you like me?”Huo Jincheng: “I thought I made it clear enough.”Lu Xingzhi: “...”Seems like it's quite obvious.“Zhi Zhi, I'll give you everything you want, but you can't leave me.”Lu Xingzhi nodded vigorously. Her Uncle was rich and handsome, good to her, and she'd have to be crazy to leave him.She, the genius piano girl, dazzled on the international stage in the brightest light.He was the business emperor who could stir clouds and rain, giving all his tenderness to her.[Sweet Pampering]

“Before the towers fell, before everything was consumed by darkness...”Leo Astralis whispered to himself while traversing through the rubble of the ancient structure.His body bore the scars of survival, bite marks that throbbed against the coarse, blood-stiffened fabric of his clothing.“..I wonder what the world was like.”After humanity failed to complete the Tower almost 700 years ago in time, it exploded, spreading monsters all over the word.Even the system, which blessed humans with power, had abandoned them. Or did it?[Run]A singular message urged Leo to escape, yet it was short lived as was he was caught like an animal in a trap.And just like an animal he lashed out until the very end, taking one of the captors to the grave with him.But as darkness closed in, the system spoke again.[One time Regression activated][Congratulations. You've activated the Heart of the System]

Hey? Why is there a HP Bar and a Title above your head? Why do you know magic? Hey, why are there people slashing their swords at me!? What’s wrong with this world? Why is it so much like an RPG!? HEY!!

[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.