Rebirth Of The Villainess: Young Master Lu's Wicked Wife - Chapter 651 Fate Of The Wicked (1)

After binge-playing a game for seventy-two hours, the single-player streamer Yang Yu, who made his living selling game guides, quietly passed away in his bed.Unaware of his own death, he was invited by a deity to conquer an RPG game, and was persuaded into choosing the hardest civilian starter.Couldn't even defeat a single slime after leaving the novice village? Want to learn a taunt skill but have to actually verbally taunt? And the gacha only yields trash?Faced with numerous hardships, he actually... got excited.A true gamer never fears challenges; they only fear the game being too easy.As his sparse panel began filling out, Yang Yu felt an unprecedented satisfaction swell within him, and he became addicted to making waves, unable to stop himself.'Hey? There seems to be a lone hero up ahead. Watch as I turn him into a unit of combat power! Damn, I’ve been spotted. Hero, don't run away!'

He used to think Death was the end.He was wrong.Death was but another beginning, a new adventure.Reborn into this strange and familiar world, he should have been dead, his soul fading into nothingness, but he found himself in a completely new existence. Now, as a Primordial instead of a human, he must find his place in this wondrous world.

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In a usurped kingdom , amid a war-torn and blood-soaked Italy, Conradin's battleground is set. To reclaim his birthright the crown of Sicily, he must tread a path paved with blood, learning that he must do whatever it takes to ascend the throne.

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In the year 1266, the tale of Conradin, the last scion of an ancient imperial dynasty, unfolds. His once-great kingdom, Sicily, has been ruthlessly usurped first by his own uncle and now rests in the hands of the cunning French Count Charles. Through a treacherous plot involving the Pope, Charles managed to oust the Hohenstaufen from the Kingdom of Sicily and crowned himself as its king.

In the East, powers such as the Despotate of Epirus are keenly observing the instability in Sicily, poised to seize any advantage that may arise from the chaos. Meanwhile, the small Italian communes are caught in the political crossfire, aligning themselves with one side of the conflict or the other based on the prevailing political party in power and their vested interests. These shifting allegiances turn the Italian peninsula into a powder keg, where all-out war seems inevitable.

As the shadows of history close in around Conradin, the world watches with bated breath. Will he emerge triumphant, his name forever etched in the annals of Sicilian glory as the rightful king who defied insurmountable odds, toppling both the Pope and the usurper? Or will he, in his valiant struggle, become a tragic figure, a symbol of lost opportunities and shattered dreams? The future of Sicily hangs in the balance, and Conradin's destiny remains uncertain, poised on the precipice of history.

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Once upon a time, there was a makeup artist who possessed outstanding skills and top-notch aesthetic judgement. When he did makeup for various stars, he could embellish sharpness onto the smooth vases that lacked edges, and he could make models who exceeded the boundaries of aesthetics to appear delicate and soft, more approachable to people.

Male stars loved to request him, for he had a thorough understanding of masculine charm in particular, and the makeup he did was never garishly slathered in oils or powders, instead exuding a natural, dashing air of elegance.

Female stars loved to request him, because not only was he excellent in his skills, he was also everyone’s closest confidant; when they chatted, he could easily hold any conversation, and his mouth would be tightly sealed, never allowing anyone’s privacy to slip out.

Although this person was quite young, after getting by in the makeup industry the past few years, he was virtually considered as a distinguished personality in his profession, and would be referred to as a ‘master’ wherever he went.

But he had a terrifying secret. He needed to carefully tread on thin ice and couldn’t expose even the slightest traces; otherwise, nobody would invite him to work ever again, and nobody would apply to the classes he led anymore.

—He was a straight man.

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