Death Is The Only Ending For The Villainess - Chapter 44: Leonard suddenly rubbed his fingers through his ears as if he were bored.

“The Second Cult Leader and the Prophet of the Voodooists died during the Holy War seven years ago.”

Florence Academy was a prestigious clergy academy.

“Now that the Voodooists are considered as a cult, who is the Third Cult Leader, where are they now, and what are they up to?”

Only I knew the answer to this question.

The Third Cult Leader was a freshman at Florence Academy. He was here, standing amongst the others in the auditorium.

How do I know this, you ask?

Because I’m the Cult Leader.

……………………………………………………………

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Following the death of the emperor, the Astanian Empire plunged into chaos. His two sons both aiming for the throne caused a civil war that divided the empire.In the midst of this conflict, Alaric was forced into conscription. He later joined the crown prince’s army as a company commander.He led his 100-man army into battle, fiercely fighting with the hope of a better future. Unfortunately, he was just too weak to cause a ripple on the battlefield.A single arrow to the head shattered his hopes and he died without even a proper burial.Just when he thought that everything was over, he found himself back to his younger self with his memories intact.Armed with his knowledge of the future and a system that awakened his dormant powers, Alaric began his journey to overcome his fated demise.

Eighty years ago, Qi Shijiang was a crosstalk artist who was a good performer.

Eighty years later, he borrowed a body to resurrect himself in the entertainment circle.

Despite living again, it’s really not easy to reenter the old profession.

As far as this face is concerned, no one believes that he is talking about crosstalk. No one believes that he does not rely on his face to eat.

– What is the use of this magnificent beauty? ?

- Description from Novelupdates

In a world of shallow-minded, materialistic mortals, what would one from humble beginnings – whose face had been stomped on, spat on, oppressed for the longest while by the arrogant, pampered upper echelons of society – do, when a mysterious application pops up on a brand new phone that was meant to be the birthday gift of an ungrateful girlfriend? What if the application takes the form of a chatroom where its occupants, bearing the names of mythical, fictional beings, start giving out ‘Red Packets’, all the while spouting nonsense?