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My Qi Keeps Resetting

The once lazy and complacent Michael has finally found something worth getting serious for. Gifted in gathering herbs, as long as it doesn't interfere with his midday nap. One fateful night Michael's world is turned upside down as he hurries home from the mountains after a day of picking herbs. His hometown village is engulfed in flames and laid to waste, his family members reduced to charred meat. Chasing revenge, Michael must overcome all obstacles and become an exalted cultivator to avenge his family. The only keepsakes remaining are an old pendant and dilapidated cultivation technique passed down from his ancestor. Michael's biggest problem on his road to revenge isn't lack of talent, nor lack of determination. "What the F***??, is this some kind of cruel joke?" "Where is my Qi???" His Qi keeps resetting. --------------- Taking a break for a little bit DISCLAIMER: This is my first contracted book with webnovel, and I am new to writing. In the beginning MC is a typical teenager, loud, childish, sometimes lazy, not taking things seriously, and sometimes haughty (even when he shouldn't be) etc. This may put some people off. However Michael eventually grows up, just like we all do. He's full of flaws and is not OP! at least in comparison to other novels. If you're looking for character development, I believe you'll find it here. I am also improving as a writer every day, so I apologise if anything is hard to read at the beginning. Thank you for reading and adding this to your collections, please feel free to comment on chapters and place your review. If you have any spare power stones please vote! Thanks, LeeroyCGNA

leeroycgna · แฟนตาซี
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156 Chs

Eve of the Assembly

In the depths of the sect dungeon, where despair permeated the air and darkness reigned supreme, a figure emerged with a grandiose entrance. The heavy footsteps echoed ominously, announcing the arrival of Randolph, the embodiment of arrogance and entitlement.

His presence loomed like a dark cloud, casting a sinister shadow over the dimly lit corridor. The torches flickered, their feeble flames quivering in fear of the impending storm. With each step, Randolph's disdainful gaze swept across the rows of cells, as if he were surveying insignificant insects beneath his feet.

Finally, his piercing eyes locked onto the cell where Michael, the bug on his road to glory, was confined. A wicked smile curled upon Randolph's lips, exuding the satisfaction of a predator cornering its prey. The air crackled with the weight of his contempt, suffocating the very essence of hope within the cell.