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One Last System

Scorned by the world he was born in, Arthur had no other choice but to learn how to deal with it. Yet, just as his hard work and dedication were about to pay off, the hate towards his origins brought him to his death. But that wasn't his fate. His future wasn't supposed to end with his head cracking against the edge of the stairs. His bloodline could not die as that would be against the wish of the universe itself. Thrown to another world, he found himself in a situation where the skills and craft he honed would be no longer of use. His patience, his creativity, his logical thinking were no longer in demand in a world where strength reigned supreme. Or was it? "My system is overpowered. I'm not shameless enough to deny it." "Scores of women and slaves all around? Those are the wishes of a naive kid, not mine." "Lower the price of those apples by a quarter and we will have a deal!" "Dear, stop, I cannot hold any longer!" Jump in and follow Arthur's adventures as he proves that even the illogical world of sword and cultivation has its own rules. Laws, that one can learn, laws, that Arthur sets off to use to his own advantage! **** This novel will have some comedic elements, but it won't be the core of the story. I also won't hold back any punches when it comes to dark humor, heavy elements or morally ambiguous aspects. If you are looking for a fckboy/edgelord/cliche, then his novel is not for you. Discord: https://discord.gg/PNGgcMr

MotivatedSloth · Fantasía
Sin suficientes valoraciones
509 Chs

Dinner with Terio

I walked out of the sect. Every step I made was marked with insults. 

'Those fellow disciples of mine are really vicious,' I thought, smirking. 

While they hurled insult after insult at me, I allowed the warmth of my robe to gently coat my flesh. 

Because this wasn't a simple robe. 

It looked just like the cloth that every other disciple in the sect wore. It had the same color, the same cut, the same length, and even the same decorations on its sleeves and belt. 

But it was a product of a level sixteen tailor rather than a mass-produced cloth. Instead of its only job being to shield one from nakedness, my robe was as good as a magical armor straight from some power fantasy novel. 

For every insult thrown my way, my smile would grow slightly bigger. Hearing those people fall right into my act while knowing the truth about the discrepancy between them and me was just too amusing.