The Artist Who Paints Dungeon - Chapter 37

A Pill Emperor of his generation was set up by a traitor.

Since then, the world lost a Qingyun Zi and gained an invincible silkpants.

Once again, walking the Great Dao of Alchemy.

How can I defy the heavens . . . with the medicine in my hands!

- Description from Novelupdates

Shen Dongqing is a powerful, thousand-year-old ghost. He had just possessed a body and hadn’t even relaxed for two days yet when he was pulled into a white, parallel world.

On the first day of the Infinite Nightmare Game:
Other players tremble, crying and wailing wanting to go home.
Shen Dongqing eats, sleeps, and plays ‘Fight the Landlord’ (card game).

The second day:
Other players are chased endlessly by ghosts, crying loudly ‘Save me!’
Shen Dongqing eats, sleeps, and plays ‘Fight the Landlord’.

The third day.
Shen Dongqing……
The ghosts finally set their sights on this lazy player. The other players watch on in glee. As a result, who knew that this slim and pale youth would stand up and easily dispatched the ghosts with his bare hands.

Other ghosts: Can’t afford to disrupt this elder. Let’s go, let’s go.

- Description from Novelupdates

“The biggest blessing in my life was meeting you. The greatest misfortune was hurting you.” — Ye FeimoOn the night she finally confessed her feelings, Wen Nuan entered the wrong hotel room—and woke up in the arms of a stranger.Drunk, confused, and heartbroken, she never expected that one night to bind her to the ruthless and enigmatic CEO, Ye Feimo.To find her, he boldly posted a half-naked ad of her across the city. To own her, he made her sign a contract as his substitute lover.She thought it was love. He only saw her as a stand-in.When the woman he truly loved returned, Wen Nuan vanished without a trace.But it was already too late.Ye Feimo finally realized that the only woman he truly loved... was the one he let go.

(Immortal Cultivation+Meeting a Perfect Match+Shura Field+Invincible Flow+Upgrade Flow+Playing the Pig and Eating the Tiger)—What is cultivation? When I think back to the past, cultivation was, as a baby, kicking my legs over and over again—kicking on the bed, kicking on the ground, kicking every single day. Cultivation was, as I grew older, swinging my sword again and again—slashing here, cutting there. Cultivation became, as I matured, the repeated harmony of yin and yang—busy tonight, and busy again tomorrow night. … My name is Xu Ming. I have never cared about the stipends given to me by those sect masters, noble ladies, or princesses.I said to her, “Can you give me a room closer to yours? I need to report my work to you at any moment.” Even if I accomplish nothing every day, I just want to watch how she cultivates. I…