MTL - The Son of Finance of the Great Age - Chapter 1015 Rescue (below)

A door unfolded before him.Evil thrived, and whispers spilled from within.The resentful compound eyes flickered and vanished, the presence longing to burst out was blocked inside, and the alluring murmurs echoed in the ear.The sticky, pink brain mumbled something. A figure cloaked in a yellow robe watched from a distance. A dark green presence, smelling of blood, roared. A string of wondrous soap bubbles released friendliness—and many, many guests.They sincerely invited Lu Li to join this mad party.Lu Li stepped in, his stride resolute and unwavering.He had no reason to refuse.

Char lived alone in the closed beta test of “Fantasy World” for thousands of years. He had already experienced 177 data wipes. In this span of time, he had already successfully charmed all of the NPC beauties, challenged all of the bosses single-handedly, gathered all of the divine weapons and used hundreds of methods to complete the online game as though it was a replayable console game. Just as he was losing the ability to differentiate whether he was a player or an NPC, the public beta started for “Fantasy World”. As such, a player who was even more terrifying than a boss was born.

Qin Fen had once been abandoned and broken until, one day, he picked up a liquid metal ball that turned his life upside down.
This is the interplanetary era where Classical and Modern Wushu are competing. Classical Wushu enables followers to grow as powerful as dragons and elephants, whereas Modern Wushu enables followers to freeze monsters or even extinguish erupting volcanoes.
Qin Fen steps onto the stage of both Classical and Modern Wushu while belonging to neither. With the exquisite combination of both Classical Wushu and modern technology, he will pave a way to become a legend.
He is one of a kind, a favored son of heaven.

[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.