[This story is all about the sincere rogue's evolution + no CP + an adorable, shameless heroine]
On my first day cultivating immortality, I was a quiet, pretty girl.
On my second day cultivating immortality, I clenched my teeth, my face twisted in a grimace.
On my third day cultivating immortality, I said, "To hell with being a fairy, to hell with floating around in immortal airs. I'm going to be a rascal, a queen in my own right."
What? Cultivating immortality means fasting, keeping a pure heart and few desires, and... To hell with all of it. How can I cultivate, how can I become a big shot, if I don't eat properly? What kind of ambition is that? It makes a mockery of the tens of thousands of years of our ancestors' teachings. Reforming the world of immortal cultivation is up to me!
As long as the sky doesn't fall and the earth doesn't crumble, your queen will roam the world!
