To My Dear Mr. Huo - Chapter 799 - How About We make a deal

When he woke up, Yang Yuan found himself reborn.

When he was one year old, “Ah, not only rebirth, but also transmigration.”

At the age of three, “Goldfinger is finally in place!”

Portable space is handy.

Fourteen years old, “What the hell is my golden finger?”

Yang Yuan screamed in the sky…

Thirty-year-old, Yang Yuan, who was hugging from left to right, stood on Emperor Tread Peak, pointing to the vast land, “This is the country that I have conquered!”

Omg, golden fingers are so fragrant!

- Description from novelbuddy

Skyscraper's rooftop.Fang Cheng is sweating heavily, relentlessly training.1000 airborne clapping push-ups.1000 two-finger push-ups.1000 one-arm pull-ups.1000 one-arm handstand push-ups.1000 single-leg squats.Plus, holding a dragon flag and a Baki plank for one hour.Looking in the mirror, Fang Cheng shows a satisfied expression.“All six skills are maxed out, I can finally synthesize the mythic talent, Asura's body.”Neon-lit chaotic dark city, countless crimson eyes lurking around.Conglomerates, serial killers, cultists, gene-modified beings, rebel groups…Fang Cheng, with his panel, intrudes into this seemingly ordinary mysterious world.Gaining experience and cultivating through push-ups.Fitness, boxing, sanda, parkour, meditation, breathing, qigong…Each seemingly ordinary skill achieves unimaginable heights.Pushing human limits ever higher, crushing every so-called “monster.”Until — becoming the god of the new world!

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.