MTL - Look In the Mirror - Chapter 17 Start and stop adjustment

The celestial celestial beings who lived for more than 100,000 years were born and reborn in a small monk in a human world.
His motto: “It’s not as good as a medicinal medicine for ten years of hard work.” “Even if you practice a copper-iron bone, it’s not enough for my soldier’s attack.”

- Description from Novelupdates

Spend life energy to infuse martial arts, and you can perform unlimited deductions.

Shen Yi’s mortal body only has a lifespan of less than a hundred years. Fortunately, he can gain his remaining lifespan by killing demons.

In the troubled times where evil spirits are everywhere, the long sword is revealed, causing the liver and gallbladder of these creatures who have lived for thousands of years to burst!

From [Eagle Claw Technique] to [Eight Desolations Splitting Heavenly Hands], from [Demon Subduing Fist] to [Golden Body Prison Suppressing Dharma Appearance]!

Shen Yi occasionally ponders, how come this lifespan is getting longer with more use?

He put the sword into its sheath, raised his eyes to the sky, and heard that there was a Jade Palace above the clouds. It was filled with thousands of saints, each of whom had experienced endless years.

This time I came to heaven just to borrow a million years from the immortals to prove my path to immortality.

- Description from novelbuddy

He rescued her. It took him eight years to pamper her into the most beautiful woman in the city. Anyone who dared to lay a finger on her would die!

Little did he know, she had long set his sights on him. She considered him as her possession. Did someone look at her man? It didn’t matter if the person was a man or a woman. She’d torture them in the most horrible way possible! However, to her surprise…

“Are you done playing?” He forced her into a corner. That’s when she found out that he’d known all along…

Dear readers! Fresh green style, maybe you will like it more in .

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.