Yin-Yang Harmony System - Chapter 62

Yun is a novice MMO player who equipped only unpopular skills labelled as garbage. However, soon after the official launch of the game, the NPC stopped to sell Recovery Potion. Everyone finally started to notice the importance of Support Magic and Items. And that spells trouble for Yun as well as all the support-based players. They received orders for recovery potion from endless flood of players en masse, some more aggressive players even go as far as forcing the support players to be their personal craftsman. In order to prevent this from going out of hands, all the support players grouped together to form a community to keep things in order.

My name is Chen Huai’an, and I have cancer. I’m dying. Lately, I’ve become obsessed with a virtual girlfriend game. I top up my account to buy her cultivation techniques and magical artifacts. Even though I’ve emptied my wallet, I laugh like a fool. I always thought it was just a game—until one day, my virtual girlfriend sent me a pill. The next moment, the pill appeared in my hand… Am I… not going to die?!My name is Li Qingran. My cultivation has been crippled, my spiritual roots dug out, and I’ve been expelled from my sect. I cower in a dilapidated hut, waiting to die. I thought my life was over—until I met a mysterious senior who never shows himself. This senior heals my wounds and helps me cultivate. I grow stronger and stronger, eventually becoming the most powerful sword cultivator in the Cangyun Realm. I’ve heard that the spiritual energy in Cangyun is depleting, the Dao is dim, and an immortal from another world plans to merge their soon-to-revive realm with ours. An age of chaos and opportunity is upon us. Even immortals may face death in this struggle. I scour the world for traces of this senior. I want to protect him—and become his Dao companion!!!

Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

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