MTL - Jiang Chao Ge and the Spirit Weapon - Chapter 99

Thirty thousand years ago, the Heaven Fighting Race who called themselves “Gods” invaded the Spirit Realm. Hundreds of races rose up in resistance, but ultimately suffered a crushing defeat. The Human Race was the first to concede, and the rest of the Hundred Races soon followed in succession.

Framed by her so-called best friend and half-sister, Su Qianxun stumbled upon a strange man when she was making her escape. A strange man so handsome it looked as if his face was carved by the Gods, but with a heart as cold as stone. A wild and fiery night ensued, and ever since then, they embarked on a journey filled with passion, lust, conspiracy and treachery.

Mo Tianliao was a master weaponsmith and a demonic cultivator. When news spread that he was about to complete a divine weapon, cultivators from both the demonic and orthodox sides chased him down and killed him. In a stroke of luck, he managed to possess a new body and was reborn.

So what was the first thing on his mind after his rebirth? Avenging his death? Taking over the world?

Mo Tianliao: I have to find my cat!

—
Mo Tianliao: Why won’t you let me hug you? You used to be my cat!

Master: (unsheathes claws)

Mo Tianliao: Ahaha, this disciple has too much respect for Master, this disciple can’t bear to let Master walk on the ground!

Master: (lifts paw, sends disciple flying)

- Description from Novelupdates

I once believed I was the heroine of a modern fairytale, blessed with beauty, wealth, intelligence, and a powerful legacy. Men adored me, women envied me, and I was engaged to the most desirable man, Cole Fay. My life seemed perfect, a dream where I held the starring role. But on my eighteenth birthday, that illusion crumbled. The truth hit me hard: I wasn’t the protagonist, nor even the villain or a side character. I was just cannon fodder, a disposable part of someone else’s story. But when fate recognized the cruel joke of my life, I was granted a second chance. This time, I’ll write my own story, living for myself. And this time . . . I will never love you again.