Golden Dreamland

Traversing parallel worlds, Lu Ban, who only wanted to make some money by making films, awaken a System, which granted him rewards every time he completed a task.
Awesome!
Wait a second, look under the bed at midnight? Piano sounds in a theater deserted for twenty years? The artist of an art exhibition gone missing? As Lu Ban completed these tasks, he realized that this world might be haunted!
This System is not normal.
He found that the System not only sent him on deadly explorations in forbidden places but also recorded all his near-death experiences as video material, and later even threw Lu Ban into the Indescribable Another World!
“Eh, if I edit these videos into a movie, wouldn't that be the perfect horror film?”
Lu Ban began to understand everything.
Thus, within the Foreign Domain, legends about the Ancient Overlord and the Indescribable horror began to spread.
——
Another title of this book is "Strange Descent, Filming in Cthulhu's World" "What Did I Do Wrong to Live a Streamer's Life in an Infinite World?" "I, the Investigator, Excel at Getting in Over My Head"
Keywords: Cthulhu, Original Infinite Streams, Myth-making, Roleplaying, Silly, Psychotic, a novel that heals the heart, light and enjoyable.

I Forged the Myth of the Ancient Overlords

The explorers from the Academy swiftly rode the insects away, and Hippocrates let out a sigh as he looked toward the city.


The torrential rain showed no signs of pausing, and the pollution in the air grew more severe. On the streets, the residents were all in painful struggle.


Hippocrates bent down, gently placing his hand on the head of one of the people.


Soon, the person fell into a deep sleep, only a slight twitching beneath their closed eyelids, as if in a dream.


All Hippocrates could do was let these people end their lives in the midst of one last beautiful dream.


"Plato seems to have failed, Ares has already left, and Cleopatra is nowhere to be found. Utopia seems to be on the brink of extinction today."


From his chest, he produced a bottle containing a deep red mist. The mist, which should have been stationary, writhed and churned as if it had a life of its own.


889. A doctor cannot heal himself.