MTL - The Sage Who Transcended Samsara - Chapter 19 courage

Glenn Hughes had spent most of his life confined to a hospital bed. Brilliant yet shackled by a cruel fate, he endured ten long years under the relentless weight of an unforgiving disease. Between medications, surgeries, and agonizing treatments, death had begun to seem less like an end and more like a mercy.But when he finally closed his eyes for the last time… rest did not come.The stench of sweat, dust, and blood was the first thing to greet him. Shackled, filthy, and drained of strength, his body was no longer his own. He was no longer in a hospital but in a cell. No longer a patient, but a prisoner.“What the… what the hell is this?”Glenn had been thrust into a world of steel and prana, reborn in the body of a condemned slave. Once a noble, now nothing more than a number among the damned.Yet, something was different. There was a reason he was still alive.Witness Glenn’s transformation as he is dragged through agony and ecstasy, suffering and desire, boundless pleasure and unrelenting torment—all while shouldering a burden so crushing that any other man would break.------------------------------------------------------------------------No netorare (NTR), no system, no incest, no consanguineous relationships.

“Yin Fu Jing” has a saying: It is also a stealth machine, and no one in the world can see it or know it.

Xu Hong travels through another world and finds that there is an extra volume of “Longevity Picture” in his mind.

Relying on this, not only can you monitor your own and other people’s lives in real time, but you can also steal secrets to convert abilities and lifespans.

The picture of longevity, the picture of longevity.

Therefore, Xu Hong set a small goal…to live 100 million years.

- Description from novelbuddy

Officer, if I told you this just was a “Healing-type Game,” would you believe me?

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”