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... cestral tablet for over an hour before placing it on the stone table and picking up his cup to drink water.

Then he lit a cigarette and, while smoking, his soul wandered the heavens, lost in thought.

The people present all knew he must have some ideas, but no one dared to ask aloud.

The four Taoists from Maoshan had much to say, however, no one took it upon themselves to speak first.

After finishing a cigarette, Feng Jun took two sips of tea and then sighed lightl ...

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“Fireball spell? Lightning Chain? Frosted Ice Mirror… etc.”

“Wait, I came here to practice Kung Fu! What has magic got to do with me?”

“I am a mage?”

“Oh, that’s right. I am a Mage!”

“However… do you really firmly believe that I am a mage?”

“Alright then, look at my knives! Look at my sword! Look at my fist! Look at my concealed weapons!”

“What? You’re now saying that I’m not a mage?”

“If you don’t believe me, I will prove it to you: If you believe me, I will show you a performance: No one can get in the way of a mage who knows Kung Fu!”

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Song Xingcheng found out that he was the cannon fodder for a novel…
The horror is, this is actually a post-apocalyptic novel?!
He relied on the rent of the two buildings to live a happy and free life, and his favorite grilled chicken…

But all of them will be gone!
Fortunately, the golden finger fell from the sky, and he became the lord of the city.

Since then, anywhere he had waved his hand had many houses, vast farmland, roaring factories, and rising technology…
Song Xingcheng not only once again lived a beautiful life of collecting rent and receiving soft hands but he also grabbed a man who can cook chicken!

***

He Qianshan: My skill of making grilled chicken is inherited from my ancestors, come to my bowl soon ~

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