MTL - Parasitic Cultivation: Race Clearing System - Chapter 522 clean up

He was very happy to be reborn, but why was he sixteen again, he can’t bear to look back at that time.

Why does he return to being sixteen years old, yet still meet Doomsday?

It’s alright to encounter the end of the world, so why did he have to fall in love with someone?

Even if he falls in love with another person, why did it have to be a man?

Falling in love with a man is also alright, so why did it need to be a secret one-sided love?

Even a secret and unrequited love is alright, so why is that man his….

- Description from Novelupdates

Li Che transmigrated into this world and lived a mundane life for nineteen years. Accepting his fate, he chose to marry, have children, and work hard to support his family.But in the instant his daughter was born… his fortunes changed. Through his daughter, his life became extraordinary.…When his daughter was safely born, he gained the Dao Fruit [Celestial Artisan] .When his daughter turned one, healthy and unharmed, he gained the Dao Fruit [Dragon-Elephant Vajra] .When his daughter turned two, free from illness, he gained the Dao Fruit [Purity of Heart] .When his daughter turned three, lively and clever, he gained the Dao Fruit [Chess Sage] .At ages four, five, six…Li Che realized that with every year his daughter grew, he could condense a Dao Fruit to strengthen himself.From then on, Li Che had a simple and humble wish: one Dao Fruit per year, quietly guarding his daughter to ensure her immortality.All he wanted was… to start from a warm home with his wife and daughter, calmly protecting her journey to eternal life.Silently, he would condense Dao Fruits—billions upon billions of them. Thus, his cultivation soared to the peak of divine refinement, standing invincible across all realms.

Catching arrows, running up walls, crushing boulders and bending metal, these are but petty parlour tricks in the eyes of martial artists. But where can a genuine martial artist stand in an era where martial artists are nothing more than a myth?

[Warning: Mature Content]

“Master, are we going to keep what happened last night a secret between us?”

“For how loud you moaned and cried, Qing-er, I think the whole world has already learned all about it, and your concern is irrelevant.”

Yun Qing-er, the only disciple of the legendary immortal swordmaster Bai Ye, has been hiding her feelings for her master for years. Unaccepted by norms and morals, it is the darkest secret that she swears to bury deep within her heart.

But life has other plans. Bai Ye's desire for her burns hot beneath his solemn appearance. He will teach her not only the art of the sword, but also the pleasures of life that she never knew existed before.

----------------

Smut starts at Chapter 17, with a teaser in Chapter 11. A bit softcore at first but will get wilder quickly as the story moves on :)

Note that this is NOT a typical cultivation romance. Immortals and spiritual power and whatnot are all plot devices… You'll see what I mean in just a few chapters!

----------------

[Sneak Peek]

He pinned me against the poplar tree at the center of the garden. A breeze rustled past, stirring the sunlight sparkling through the autumn foliage above us, and a sprinkle of gold fell over his shoulders. “Say you want me,” he whispered.

“Bai Ye—” I breathed, but the rest of my words were replaced by moans the moment he traced his kisses along my neck and took my earlobe into his mouth.

Familiar tingles roared through me as he nibbled and suckled gently. His hand slid up my chest, and he played with my sensations with his lips and tongue and fingers until my arms trembled around him. All other thoughts vanished from my mind. The only thing I knew was the irresistible feeling of him on me, so overwhelming that my knees started growing weak. I would've fallen if he wasn't pinning me hard against the tree.

“Bai Ye …” I moaned again, clawing at his clothes. “Of course I want you … Right here, right now.”

He let out a soft puff of laughter, and his hand grazed down, gripping the folds of my dress. With a rip of fabric, he tore them away.