My Cell Prison - Chapter 90 - : Door of Fate

He was an orphan with mediocre aptitude and a humble background.Through perseverance and an unwillingness to settle for mediocrity, he practiced cultivation desperately.By a stroke of luck, he awakened the Ancient Martial Soul, long extinct in this world, and from that moment on, his rise was unstoppable, like a comet soaring high, embarking on a cultivation journey to dominate the world.Starting as a beggar who was bullied by others, he began to shine with each step, entering into an era of chaos where Sects are numerous, talents abound, the Ten Thousand Clans vie for power, and human heroes emerge one after another in a vast and magnificent world.With the 'Tyrant Sky Martial Soul', he vowed to forge his own myth!

The next morning, Jian Anning asked, “What is happiness?” Yu Xingxing hooked his lips into a smile and suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace. “Happiness,” he said, “is being with the one you love and doing things that make you happy. Let's continue, wife!” Jian Anning kicked him off. “Get lost!”

Waking up in the body of a 6-year-old boy a few years before Cintra is destroyed, Madara receives a system that gives him the ability to gain the powers of Uchiha Madara.[The peak of Uchiha Madara's system is before he becomes the ten-tails jinchuuriki.]The system's percentage does not stop Madara's power, but rather the system's release. After all, I don't want to see a character who goes around killing everyone from the beginning of the story.

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.