Talisman Emperor - Chapter 1722: He Has Arrived

I reincarnated with e*otic game skills, but this is apparently an apocalyptic dark fantasy. I can’t die, so I tried to save the world with e*otic game skills… “Saint! Save us!!” “Saint! Save us!!!” People keep calling me a saint.

Once Gu Qingjiu, she was fortunate enough to be born in the “best” family, ended up having a miserable and unjust life.

Reliving her life once more, Gu Qingjiu chooses to enlist in the military and bear the toughest hardships she has ever faced. Everyone says that she’s the least possible person to join the special forces. However, she manages to prove all of them wrong.

Good-for-nothing? Who’s the good-for-nothing? Is she a good-for-nothing when she can throw all of them onto the floor in a fight? Is she a good-for-nothing when she has results better than everyone else? She’ll prove all of them wrong.

Enter Helian Niancheng, the well-known, youngest major-general in Beijing. A banishment sends him into the basic ranks in a military camp as a new recruit. From then on, he meets a person that makes him dote on and protect at all costs, his beloved. However, his beloved is only focused on fighting and killing. Major-general Helian declares this to be a very bad, a very terrible situation. Yet, Gu Qingjiu merely replies,

“Scram! Lower your gun if you dare!”

New book “President Fu, The Reborn Sweet Wife Is Online” seeking collection~“What does it feel like?” Her hand was tightly gripped by him and pressed against his cold, sharp, handsome face. “I mean the face.”After being reborn, she turned over a new leaf and clung tightly to her fiancé, refusing to let go. The two of them worked together to crush the scum, scattering dog food everywhere.Rongcheng's Mr. Gu, the most powerful, prestigious, and aloof man, held only her in the palm of his hand. After marriage, her biggest distress was: how to deal with a husband who is too doting and too clingy!

[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.