Fanqie catalogue
Books by 蕉鹿之
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- 4
Fanqie books matched on the author's name.
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Spiritual Qi Revival: I Revitalize the Taoist Sect in Another World 灵气复苏：我在异界振兴道门
An old Taoist priest transmigrates into a modern low-martial world, just as spiritual qi revival begins. Zhang Ruoxu takes one look at the handful of people left in his sect and sighs quietly. Then he turns to look at the demons and female ghosts in the distance, rubs his hands eagerly, and grins. “If you can’t even subdue demons and catch ghosts, what’s the point of calling yourselves a Taoist sect? Looks like reviving the Taoist sect is a job that’ll have to fall to me!” The heavens and myriad
2.2kReads7.1Score107Shelves
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Xuanhuan: The Way of Longevity for the School of Military Strategy 玄幻：百家之兵家长生路
In the Great Chu Dynasty, the human realm and the demon realm collide. Monsters, demons, ghosts, and spirits run rampant. Earthly Immortals sit among the clouds, surveying the world below. The world of cultivation flourishes in all its diversity. The Hundred Schools of Thought manifest their power in the mortal world. Confucians speak with righteous eloquence and wield their brushes to slay evil. Military strategists ride across the battlefield, invincible wherever they go. Mohists use the false
579Reads6.7Score—Shelves
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I, Buddha, Am Truly a Good Person 佛爷我真是好人啊
[Weak System + No Romance + Slow Progression + More Traditional + Saintly Heroine, Don’t Read If You Dislike It, Thanks] When Shi Ran woke up, he had transmigrated to a strange world. There were no aloof immortals in the heavens, pure as the moon, nor compassionate gods and Buddhas filling the skies. Instead, the world was full of deranged, bizarre cultivators. Here, sacred scriptures were laden with taboo costs, and the slightest misstep in cultivation could mean death and the end of one’s path
486Reads8.7Score161Shelves
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Yellow Millet Dream 【黄粱】
[A touch of the classical, traditional, and everyday] Huang Liang awakes from a dream within a coffin. Gazing at the vast, myriad-starred expanse in his sea of consciousness, he can hardly tell whether he has transmigrated or been reborn. “Did Zhuang Zhou dream he was a butterfly, or did a butterfly dream it was Zhuang Zhou?” He looks up: the sky is clear, the moon bright, the clouds washed clean. He looks down: the earth is murky, the water turbid, the waves like ink. Huang Liang emerges from t
146Reads—Score—Shelves