Rise of the White Dragon - Chapter 440

Tayar is currently embroiled in a brutal war.

The races of light are on the verge of exterminating the races of the fallen.

Led by humans with fearsome powers from another world, their victory becomes more and more assured with every passing battle.

But when the last member of a now extinct race of fallen suddenly appears, the entire world will be turned upon it's head.

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The world is a sea of bitterness.

The mortal swims in the sea.

The body is the vessel.

The soul is the mortal on the vessel.

The vessel carries the mortal as it sails endlessly towards the other side of the sea.

Does cultivating the body strengthen the vessel enough to reach the other side of this sea of misery?

Or does cultivating the soul give the mortal on the vessel the ability to master swimming?

Cultivating according to the martial path allows one to become an Earthly Immortal.

Cultivating according to the immortal path allows one to become a Divine Immortal.

Which path should be chosen?

- Description from Novelupdates

In this latest work by Lord of the Mysteries author, Cuttlefish That Loves Diving, be prepared for a well-thought out and detailed apocalyptic, cyberpunk world with a setting superseding Lord of the Mysteries!

It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.When Aria crashes into Kael’s empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, she’s met not with defiance—but a dare. “You want revenge?” he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation.“Then ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.” His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac.“Hate me until your hands shake,” he growls. “But do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.”Their arrangement is a collision of dominance and delirium. Aria wields her fury like a blade, determined to break him. Kael? He thrives under her wrath, goading her darker, deeper, hungrier.But vengeance turns slippery when every command she hisses ignites his obedience, and every cold glare melts into bruising kisses. Soon, the bed becomes a battleground—her nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpent’s promise: “Chain me with your rage, darling. I’ll still come back for more.”The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, who’s destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, what’s left when the ashes cool?