You Practice Immortality, I Farm - Chapter 1130: Genho Shino

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.

Grayson is a poor college student, scavenging leftover food, betrayed by his girlfriend, and constantly looked down on by everyone around him. Little do they realize he’s actually the heir to the mightiest billionaire family. When the seal on Grayson’s fortune is lifted, he transforms into the ultimate second-generation rich kid. He only wants to keep a low profile, but fate just won’t let him!So you think I’m just a loser? Fine. I’ll quietly use my money to solve everything behind your backs. Then I’ll make you all choke on your own words, swallow every insult, and slap you hard in the face...（This is anovel full of twists, comebacksand face-slapping moments, witha tightly woven and engaging plot—definitely worth your time.If you enjoy my story, please support it by adding itto your favorites. Your encouragement is the driving force behind my continued creation of exciting contentI also promise there will be no disappointing ending—the storywill have a satisfying conclusion. As the author,I already have 1.5 million words in reserve and willupdate with at least three chapters daily on average.）

The Night Has Come, and kermesinus moon ascends in the sky.Hoarse whispers flow at the street corners, and brass steam machines spew out bloody mist.Your brain is singing a hymn, eyes are chanting a melody.Skin cracks, and flesh buds swell.Amidst the Mist, the wall of flesh that has devoured thousands of corpses wails endlessly—“Weep not, our players don't bite, they just want to play with you.”Annan, the lone strategist, the top player, the savior of the mist-covered continent, the leader of the Thirteen Saints, the friend of the Twelve True Gods, the king of pioneers, “the Just”, the Gatekeeper of the Fourth Calamity, the uncrowned deity, advised kindly.