Cursed Immortality - Chapter 857: Soul Star Birth!

On the night of Xiao Ke’s thirtieth birthday, he shared a table while drinking. The person he shared the table with was a cool man who fit all of his aesthetic desires. It was practically love at first sight.

He was thirty; he had reached that age where he was no longer the awkward twenty-something youth. He would pursue the one he liked without hesitation, no questions asked.

“I want you to give me a tattoo. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

- Description from Novelupdates

As the number one pill alchemist of the immortal world, Mu Chen had always believed that it was because he had single-mindedly focused on concocting pills that led to him to neglect disciplining his disciple. Which in turn, caused his disciple to be led astray by the seduction of devil cultivation, leading to the three realms to fall to disaster. After his rebirth, Mu Chen resolved to properly teach his disciple, give him the very best resources, earnestly love him, carry him close to his heart, teach him by way of example, and didn’t let him grow corrupt.

One day, I woke up only find out that I’d become a Demon Lord, an individual responsible for protecting a dungeon. The world I’d been spirited away to was one filled with violence. Gigantic monsters wandered through it and competed with each other each and every day for the right to survive. I had no choice but to strengthen my dungeon’s defenses in hopes of living another day—or at least that was what I’d thought. For some odd reason, I instead ended up spending my days in relaxation and bliss.

I once believed I was the heroine of a modern fairytale, blessed with beauty, wealth, intelligence, and a powerful legacy. Men adored me, women envied me, and I was engaged to the most desirable man, Cole Fay. My life seemed perfect, a dream where I held the starring role. But on my eighteenth birthday, that illusion crumbled. The truth hit me hard: I wasn’t the protagonist, nor even the villain or a side character. I was just cannon fodder, a disposable part of someone else’s story. But when fate recognized the cruel joke of my life, I was granted a second chance. This time, I’ll write my own story, living for myself. And this time . . . I will never love you again.