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You Might Die If I Cast My Healing Spell

# GAMEALTERNATEWORLD # RELAXING # PRIEST In that year, the entire world mutated. The game descended into reality while demonic catastrophes rampaged. For the sake of survival, everyone had to pick up a job class and level up their skills frantically. They worked hard to be more powerful. Lin Ye acquired the special talent of Reversing. He could reverse and strengthen any effect that was targeted at the host. For instance, he could turn damage into healing and buffing into debuffing. As such, he changed his job class and became a priest. He challenged an opponent, “Come at me! Attack me with any of your forbidden curses or divine techniques. I will admit defeat even if I lose a bit of blood.” He then said, “So, your attack has no effect on me? It’s my turn to attack now. Healing Spell!” [Notification: you attacked your opponent with a healing spell and caused 100 million points of critical damage. The other party has been afflicted with the negative status effects of anti-treatment, poison, burn, silence and fatigue.] Lin Ye’s opponent was befuddled.

Sweet Spring Showers · Juegos
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533 Chs

Combat Skills That Ignore The Body's Data (I)

Editor: Dragon Boat Translation

Seeing how "friendly" these pretty boys were, Lin Ye felt that it would be impolite if he didn't return the favor.

"Alright," he said.

"How do you want to fight?"

"One-on-one? A wheel? Or all together?"

"If everyone has to have a turn, I suggest that you all do it together. It'll save time."

The man in the white sweater summoned all of his equipment. It was a pure white Assassin's cloak, paired with a small dagger that emitted a faint silver light. He was clearly a standard level 20 Assassin.

"Don't act tough!"

"Otherwise, it will be very embarrassing when you lose!"

"Hurry up!"

"Summon your equipment and weapons!"

Upon hearing this, Lin Ye sighed.

He summoned his Hidden Moon alone, then put his left hand in his pocket and held the blade in his right hand. He was wearing shorts and slippers, looking like a beggar sword saint.

The man in the white sweater frowned.

"A Swordsman?"