When Lu Changsheng opened his eyes, the ceiling fan on the ceiling was spinning squeakingly, and a layer of dust had accumulated on the fan blades.
He was stunned for a moment.
He was very familiar with this rental house—boxes of instant noodles piled up in the corner, a laptop that died six months ago on the table, and a five-yuan bottle of Fengyoujing beside the pillow. This is the house he rented when he was extremely poor after traveling to this world.
But the problem is, he remembers that he was sitting on a throne in the endless abyss a second ago, with the bones of three thousand worlds under his feet, and the freshly severed heads of gods in his hands.
