Fantasy: I'm Really Not A Supreme Master! - Chapter 816 - 737: Casting Spells into the Air

On the Star Network there is a gourmet food broadcast, where all you can see are a pair of hands. However each dish that this broadcast comes out with is earthshakingly delicious. What’s more, the broadcast anchor’s voice is simply perfect!

With the broadcast’s rising popularity, several food programs extended him an olive branch. When the anchor appeared on screen, as they suspected, he is handsome enough to incur the wrath of both men and gods! The fans licked their screens with increasing frenzy, but after licking a while, they discovered…

Fans:…Wait a minute, isn’t this our fatally-ill idol who hasn’t long to live?

Small Gong: Take these damned nutrient solutions and throw them away! And get me that broadcast anchor!

- Description from Novelupdates

Here martial arts are no longer intangible legends. They have been passed on from generation to generation and from century to century. After the confrontation with science and technology, they have completely integrated into modern society and all kinds of martial arts competitions are taking place across the country as superiority among scholars are hard to reach a consensus but not as difficult among martial artists!

Henry Morris, the 8th-Circle Mage, stood on the execution platform.

When the emperor, his friend, had passed, his son had became a puppet of the nobles. Soon after, a purge had ensued, led by the forces opposing Henry.

Even in the face of death, all Henry could think was that he hated the new emperor and the nobles.

Just as he thought it was all over, Henry suddenly found himself in a new body—one with the potential to become a swordsman. An 8th-Circle Mage, reborn as a swordsman.

With both powers now at his disposal, Henry’s revenge was only a matter of time.

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Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

- Description from Novelupdates