The Sword Deity in Tokyo - Chapter 242: It Was Because Senpai Taught Me Well

Huazhi is a rabbit spirit who has just cultivated into an adult. He was hacked into a post-apocalyptic novel in which the male protagonist is reborn, and became the female supporting role in the book who died early.
System: [Kiss, rush, rush! As long as you save enough energy, you can go back and continue to practice and become a rabbit fairy! 】
The flower branch of dreaming to become a rabbit fairy: (/≧▽≦)/Chongchongchong!
But as soon as he wore the book, the flower branch that had not had time to turn into a human shape was picked up by Jinghuai, and the flower branch who wanted to turn back into a human shape had to stay beside Jinghuai every day, being quilted! he! trample! Smash!
After the rebirth, Jing Huai accidentally picked up a little bunny like a marshmallow, with ruby-like eyes, soft and fluffy bunny ears, and a fluffy round tail adorned behind him.
The scenery is cold and ruthless towards everyone, but she gently brushes her hair every day, feeds her scarce carrots, and gives her the sweetest spring water…
Until one day, Jing Huai put the flower branch on the head of the bed, touched her soft rabbit fur, and was about to fall asleep. Suddenly, the fur on his palm disappeared, and he turned into a girl with soft rabbit ears.
Jing Huai: “…”
Jing Huai rubbed her bunny ears, her face flushed with indifference, “Change back.”
Huazhi retracted his head into the quilt: “No, no.”
Carrots really suck!
Note: Doomsday Cookies

Content tags: sweet text
Search keywords: protagonist: flower branch, scenery Huai ┃ supporting role: ┃ other:

- Description from novelbuddy

Being abandoned by his very own blood, the world stripped him of everything, his glory, his weapon, his beloved and even his name was taken away. He tried to reclaim what were rightfully his but the people already treated him as an outcast.With nothing left to do, he strode towards the place of no return and as he reached the deepest part by accident, he found a sealed casket with an unusual question engraved on its lid.'If the world's destruction would be put in the palm of your hand, how would it end?'Thousands of choices, hundreds of possibilities, and tens of answers, yet just one of these was certain.“I'll carve it with my enemies' blood,” he uttered underneath the moonless sky.On his hand was a blade made of glass, dripping with a crimson, sticky substance. In an era where war was an everyday occurrence and death was nothing but a mere consequence of being weak, his journey towards the labyrinth of revenge had begun.- - - - -Read at least six chapters and please be prepared to crave the rest. Enjoy Reading!

Chen An transmigrated into the world of cultivating immortals. Relying on the fact that he was a transmigrator, he set himself a small goal of entering the foundation establishment stage in ten years.

Unexpectedly, his talent in cultivation was extremely poor, and he was stuck at the third level of Qi refining for many years without making any further progress. After thirty years of hard work in cultivation, he returned as a beginner.

He had wanted to pursue immortality, but in the end, he only learned alchemy. Seeing no hope in cultivation, he chose to return to ordinary life and married a wife to enjoy the pleasures of the mundane world.

However, on the night of his wedding, he returned to the path of cultivating immortals.

[Ding! Your system has been activated.]

[Alchemy experience +1.]

[Alchemy experience +1.]

[Alchemy experience +1.]

It turned out that marrying his wife and enjoying the pleasures of the mundane world was his path to becoming immortal. It allowed him to skip thousands of years of detours and directly become immortal.

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She died with her eyes wide open, waiting by the river for three days and three nights, only to be greeted not by her husband, but by her benefactor. As she looked at the blurred figure, her heart was deeply moved, and she silently made a vow: if she could be reborn, she would definitely marry him!… Later, she really was reborn.

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