MTL - The Experimental Log of the Crazy Lich - Chapter 700 Broken bottle of disaster

Why is it “Hero” that “Savior” that? Why is it always the same happy ending? “Happy” “Good” “Perfect” endings? You know what? SCREW IT. I will give you all the worst possible ending possible? Why? Because I’m an asshole!

One day he suddenly found himself in hell.
All he had was the desire to live and a predation ability.
From the first to the ninth thousand circles of hell, he absorbed dozens, hundreds of thousands of demons.
Even the seven great dukes of hell bowed down before him.

– Why would you wish to go back? Doesn’t his highness have everything that’s in Hell?
– What do I have?

Nothing to eat, nothing to enjoy!
The only things in Hell are the barren lands and terrible demons!

“I’m going back.”

After ten thousand years he returns to Earth.

Just when I got to know her, the hairy girl only wants to beat me up!Prim childhood sweetheart treads on me underfoot!Childhood friend turned sister suddenly demands I repay the kindness of upbringing?...Are all these twists of human nature, or the moral decay?Surrounded by young girls wielding knives, Shen Mo Dust trembles: 'Author, why do I only meet bad women?''What exactly are you not satisfied with, let's switch roles!'Jealous at having crafted the protagonist's peak of life with his own hands but without a single girl by his side, the author furiously slams the keyboard!(Spotting the little whips raised by the venerable readers, he picks up the keyboard again)The alternate titles of this book are 'They Shine Like Stars' and 'They Are Lonely Like Stars'.

The boundless universe is full of many wonders.

I, Chen Ping, only have one sword!

I can move mountains, overturn the seas upside down, suppress demons, slap the face of gods, pluck the stars, break rivers, destroy cities, and… open the heavenly abode!

***

The Midland world was full of wonders.

In the center of the world, there was a scholar who had once used a sword to slash out a waterfall of the Milky Way. This was the person he was the most proud of.

At the edge of East Sea’s cliffs, there was a nameless Daoist who was unwilling to ascend to the peak of a mountain. He only wished for a cool breeze to brush against his face.

In the Western Pure Land, there was an old monk who liked to treat people to chicken soup and tell stories.

In the southern border of the Wilderness, there was a blind painter who controlled golden-armored puppets that were as tall as mountains to move the hundred thousand mountains, creating an embroidered picture.

A impoverished youth who grew up in the north. One day, he saw tens of thousands of Sword Kinesis Immortals above him, like a swarm of locusts crossing the border.

He wanted to see for himself the scholar that the storyteller had mentioned, the surging tides of the East Sea, the vast swamps of sand in the west, and the majestic mountains of the Southern Wasteland.

Thus, one day, the youth picked up the wooden sword and began to descend south.

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