MTL - Immortality Cultivation Era - Chapter 42 Didn’t bring anything

I made a game.

Jiang Tong was a person who had no tomorrow. She was stuck in an endless loop, repeating the same day, 4th April of the year 2022. From the initial excitement up until despair, Jiang Tong had tried everything to escape. She killed herself countless times, using different methods, but she would always wake up on the day of 4th April 2022. To pass her unlimited time, she learned more than a thousand and three hundred skills. From languages, to shooting skills, culinary skills, performing arts, etc. Jiang Tong learned everything imaginable. She enjoyed the excitement and hotblooded fights brought about by wrestling; she enjoyed the speed and thrill brought about by car racing; the pleasure of seducing and tasting all kinds of handsome men; the therapeutic sensations of playing various instruments.

No matter how much trouble she got into, when it got to four in the morning, she would suddenly fall asleep and wake up on the morning of 4th April. Until… After countless trials and errors, she finally managed to bed Z City’s most dignified but also the weakest young master, Ji Lanzhou. Ji Lanzhou was the Ji family’s youngest young master. Due to his frail body, he was the apple of the Ji family’s eye. No one in Z City dared to mess with him. But Jiang Tong didn’t care because she would have to relive this day again tomorrow. Yet… When dawn came, Jiang Tong was shocked to find Ji Lanzhou sleeping on her bed when she opened her eyes. The man even looked pale from having overexerted himself. Jiang Tong was delighted! She looked at her phone, and the date showed 5th April, 2022! After five hundred years, more than a hundred and eighty days, she was finally out of the loop! Ji Lanzhou woke up to see Jiang Tong laughing and crying like a mad woman. He pursed his pale lips and said, “Liar.” Jiang Tong raised an eyebrow. “It was an accident, Sweetie. So now I have to run for my life.” Ji Lanzhou was baffled.

[COMPLETE] Can a royal Romeo and Juliet find their happy ending?

Ayleth, Princess of Zenithra, is secretly trained in hand-to-hand combat, and collects swear words she doesn't know how to use. During the Festival of Peace, in which every royal son on the continent will be at the castle for a month, she is instructed by her parents to find a husband. Yet, Ayleth has never even been kissed—until the very first ball, when she meets the man in the Lion mask.

Etan is a seasoned warrior, and the Prince of Summitras. He attends the Festival hoping to find a powerful wife who will help him conquer the dark sorcery of their bloodsworn enemies, the Kingdom of Zenithra. But at the very first ball, he discovers the masked woman who captures his heart is the Heir to the evil empire.

Ayleth and Etan face an impossible battle. Will their love survive? Or will their parents' dark dealings keep them apart forever?

[Mature content. No sexual violence.]

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“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

“No, Ayleth. This changes nothing.”

“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

“Ayleth, please.” His voice cracked on the plea and she stared at him, shoving her mask up and off, despite how it would pull her hair out of the beautiful twist the maid had managed for her.

His eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

She had met her One. And he was the son of her bloodsworn enemy.

She stared at him as he stepped forward again, offering both hands, palm up. “Touch me,” he whispered. “Hold my hands. This is real, Ayleth. I don’t know how it happened, but this is real. Please don’t deny it.”

She couldn’t resist. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, letting her palm catch on the scruff of his jaw. He blew out a breath and put his hand over hers, and that jolt that happened whenever they touched shivered through her again.

“Please, Ayleth.”

“I cannot deny it,” she whispered.