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My Spirit Sword Can Complain
Xianxia我的灵剑会吐槽
I Have No Tears
I am Liu Feng, a master of modern chemistry who accidentally traveled to the world of cultivation. The realm here is strict, with a total of twenty-two levels from Ningqi to Tianzun. True immortals are divided into three levels: heaven, earth and human. He became a good-for-nothing young master just after time travel. He was kicked out of his family and was in a difficult situation. I accidentally got a golden finger, which is a spiritual sword that can make complaints\
I am Liu Feng, a master of modern chemistry who accidentally traveled to the world of cultivation. The realm here is strict, with a total of twenty-two levels from Ningqi to Tianzun. True immortals are divided into three levels: heaven, earth and human. He became a good-for-nothing young master just after time travel. He was kicked out of his family and was in a difficult situation. I accidentally got a golden finger, which is a spiritual sword that can make complaints\

Mortal Demonic Device
Xianxia凡魔入器
I Have No Tears
Tiannan Yue Kingdom, on the border of Jingzhou. Hundreds of thousands of mountains are entrenched like ink dragons, and the clouds and mist never dissipate all year round. Everyone knows that this is the place where immortals and demons separate. The deserted village at the foot of the mountain is called "Qixia'ao". Between the low walls of the earthen house, seventeen-year-old Liu Yihan is throwing a bundle of dry firewood onto his shoulder. The linen clothes are rough, but they can't hide the sparkle in the young man's eyes - it's the longing for the world outside the mountain, and it's also the unawakened spiritual root deep in the blood, pulsing silently in the dust and mud.
Tiannan Yue Kingdom, on the border of Jingzhou. Hundreds of thousands of mountains are entrenched like ink dragons, and the clouds and mist never dissipate all year round. Everyone knows that this is the place where immortals and demons separate. The deserted village at the foot of the mountain is called "Qixia'ao". Between the low walls of the earthen house, seventeen-year-old Liu Yihan is throwing a bundle of dry firewood onto his shoulder. The linen clothes are rough, but they can't hide the sparkle in the young man's eyes - it's the longing for the world outside the mountain, and it's also the unawakened spiritual root deep in the blood, pulsing silently in the dust and mud.