Extra Demon: Sacred Academy of Light - Chapter 129 Shining Spots

30 year old Lu Ziwen was born in poverty and after struggling for a lifetime, he is finally able to perform in the Golden Hall symbolizing the highest honor. However, an hour before taking the stage, he was killed by his lover.

With eyes opened once more, he was unexpectedly born again in the body of the fallen star Qi Mu!

Who controls the world with notes?

Who is the king of the classics?

Qi Mu: I’ve conquered you; I am the king of classical music!

Min Chen: … As long as you are happy.

This is a story of a reborn violinist, vengeance, struggling for the top, and dominating the world of classical music!

- Description from Novelupdates

Lu Lingxi died.

As a child born by his parents through precise genetic matching, for eighteen years of his life, he lived entirely for his brother, who had leukaemia. He was his brother’s shadow, a “medicine reserve bank” for his brother’s treatment needs.

Umbilical cord blood, stem cells, bone marrow… whenever his brother needed it, he would have no choice but to quietly lie on the operating table.

Until the last time, when his brother needed a kidney and he never came off the operating table.

When he opened his eyes again, Lu Lingxi became a teenager with the same name Lu Lingxi.

Freed from the shackles of his fate, he possesses the mysterious ability to communicate with plants.

Raising flowers, gardening and running a farm, Lu Lingxi begins a very different life!

As a promise, he went out into the world as an assassin. 3 years later, after becoming the Supreme Assassin, he gave up on everything he had and returned to the ranks of ordinary people. But one day, Kismet, a mystical game created by the National Research and Development had appeared.

[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.