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... e was certain there was no hope in the world for him. Women would claim to love him, but they adored his flashy titles, his limitless wealth, and his power. Everyone would state they loved him out of the good intentions of their heart.

Lies.

Everyone was a liar. Everyone wanted one thing from Kaden. But Lina? Lina whose loyalty was always questioned, whose smile was hesitant, and gaze filled with fear? He couldn't help, but want her. She wasn't certain of her intentions with him. ...

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“Aiyo, this time someone’s going to die. This is going to be a big deal.”

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Mama, who can tell her what’s going on?

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After 6,000 years of development by the immortal sect on Planet Earth, all of the leyline spiritual energy was controlled by the country. They only released enough spiritual energy for the cultivators to breathe. If a cultivator wanted to use the spiritual energy to train themselves, they would have to pay the immortal sect for that.

Chen Mobai was a senior high school student at the Fifth High School of the Immortal Sect. He was studying for his entrance exam at the colleges of the immortal sect. His biggest dream was to achieve the Foundation Establishment Realm until he was transmigrated to a cultivation world.

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“Wait! Isn’t this the legendary spiritual herb? Are these not extinct here?”

“Huh? Is this the method to extract one’s Spiritual Root? Also, isn’t this a divine technique?”

“What a powerful cultivator! Please accept me as your disciple!”

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To care for her ailing sweetheart, college student Lu Chenchen gave up her white-collar office job and chose the higher-paying caretaker profession instead. Going around in circles, she ended up at the Mao family’s home.

The Mao family background was complicated. Old Madam Mao was not her son Yanning’s birth mom, but his young aunt. His wife was Old Madam Mao’s first love’s daughter, spoiled and pampered. Despite over ten years of marriage, husband and wife were distant.

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Lu Chenchen walked on eggshells among these people – carefully serving young and old, currying favor with the lady of the house without offending the man of the house, while also worrying about his sweetheart’s illness and missing “his” elders and children back home. Her heart was like a cookie flattened between the pages of life, living a difficult and cautious existence.

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Comparing my spells to those of other professions, I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast. Mages wield “Doomstorm” and “Ice Age,” swordsmen boast “Sword Rain: Homecoming” and “Wind-Cutter Slash,” while archers showcase “Arrow Rain: Shooting Stars” and “Storm Arrow.” Yet, my ultimate spells are disturbingly named “Cancer Cell Proliferation,” “T-Virus Infection,” and “Rabies Outbreak.”

In the midst of it all, a certain character, some crying girl, laments, “Noooo, I just took a bath, who would have thought that I would become infected!”

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