Endless Transmigration: These Shitty Lives are Killing Me - Chapter 163: Disciple Candidates?

Lin Xiao was an orphan who strived to get stronger while living with his sickly younger brother in an unnamed small village.

Because of a chain bracelet, Bai Min inadvertently crossed over thousand years to become Daxing dynasty’s Murong Feng.

She married the mischievous and unruly 4th Prince Sima Rui.

Won’t this marriage disappoint the owner of the soul and body?

From their uninterested beginning until they slowly getting to know each other and finally got together.

An accident made this marriage predestined by fate became an autumn dream.

Eventually Bai Min cannot resist the longing of the heart and also cannot avoid the calling of her lover in the dream. She abandoned everything to cross over a millennium once more.

This affectionate love without regret and willing to give up everything was met with continous twists and turns.

She made a pact with her lord to be fated for three lives. Across a millennium, was it possible not to disappoint this lifetime?

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“Hah..Hah..”

In the midst of what seemed like a battlefield, a young boy with white hair knelt on the ground, struggling to catch shallow breaths. A short sword pierced his heart, his arms and legs were broken, making him unable to stop the crimson blood from coloring the ground.

“That's what you get for betrayal,” a red-headed teenage boy sneered as he stood before him.

“A pathetic person like you could never be my brother,” added a purple-haired girl, her voice seething with anger, as she stood alongside the redhead.

With great effort, the young boy shifted his gaze forward. He could see many familiar faces in front of him—his so-called family, his so-called friends but his gaze remained fixed on her.

“Wh..y, A.nna,” he uttered with immense difficulty and sorrow in his voice, his vision blurring as he locked eyes with the blonde-haired girl, who regarded him with emotionless eyes.

“I did that so I could save you,” he said, his voice gradually growing louder.

“I DID THAT SO YOU COULD LIVE!” he shouted, making everyone present flinch in fear.

“I never asked you to do this” the blonde-haired girl replied, her words crushing the very soul of the boy.

“A...nn.a,”

the young boy whispered one last time, a small tear slipping down from his eye as he breathed his final breath.

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Neil survived eight grueling years in a post-apocalyptic world only to die and be reincarnated in the body of Eden Morton, a character from a game he

used to play as a teenager, by an unknown entity for unknown reasons.

Eden's life was a pitiable one, plagued by the constant manipulation and betrayal of those around him – whether it was the princess, the famed hero, or even his very own family. Eden died without ever experiencing genuine love. Now, as Neil took over, he was determined to embark on a new journey, seeking the one thing he and Eden never had : a life worth living.

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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