Two male leads + reborn for revenge + satisfying revenge story + bewitching beauty + loyal hound
In his previous life, on the Immortal Execution Platform, his divine bones were shattered.
Hanchuan was a beauty whose allure stunned the Three Realms and whose venom could poison the Nine Heavens. A half-demon descended from the Heaven-Enchanting Yaoluan bloodline, he was falsely accused of stealing the Nine Heavens Primordial Dao Seal, a crime of unfathomable magnitude, and hunted by the Four Great Immortal Sects.
Immortal Venerable Muhua wore a mask of righteousness. With a single cry of “Exterminate evil and defend the Dao,” he led a hundred thousand immortal soldiers in a bloody massacre of Qingxia Valley. Consumed by boundless hatred, Hanchuan’s soul was torn apart.
Three hundred years later, he clawed his way out of a coffin in a mass grave.
His face was still devastatingly beautiful, but his methods were more deranged and ruthless than the fiends of the infernal depths. Those who owed him from his last life would pay in this one...
“I hear you’ve got yourself a new immortal bone? Tsk, why not pull it out and carve yourself a tombstone?”
“The ancestor’s in seclusion, looking for some peace and quiet? Don’t worry, I’ll send you down to play mahjong with King Yama. We’re one short!”
“So many feet stepped on my robes during the attack? Heh. I’ll chop them off one by one and feed them to the dogs!”
Treading over his enemies’ corpses and blood, listening to their wails and pleas for mercy, Hanchuan smiled, alluring and chilling. “Blood debts must be paid with lives. That’s the only way to make it satisfying!”
But what was the deal with Yun Wujiao, the aloof immortal lord famed throughout the Immortal Realm, following him around?
A spectator during the siege three hundred years ago, in this life he had become the most loyal sword at Hanchuan’s feet. Hanchuan tried to tempt him. “Immortal Lord, we hardly know each other, do we?”
And when Hanchuan thought it was all just a game of using each other, he found a verse carved into the inside of the man’s tightly gripped sword hilt, a vow engraved into his very bones: “May the clouds shelter Hanchuan.”
Yun Wujiao’s gaze remained calm as he wielded his sword to cut down every thorn in Hanchuan’s path.
“In this life, I have no regrets about betraying the entire Immortal Sect for you.”
"Zhenyi suddenly returned, only his shadow was reflected in thousands of mountains." Huotian Yaoluan was born in the beauty of heaven and earth. He should have seen the world with a pair of loving eyes. He should be content with growing flowers and grass, and be envied by everyone and be happy. But the so-called righteous way wants to kill him, and hundreds of immortal schools want to kill him, because the world does not tolerate it and the human heart is slaughtered, so the golden cup fell into the coral pool, the bright moon fell into the mire, and the three hundred years of hatred turned into new cold flesh and blood in the mass graves. The too strong obsession made Hanchuan open his eyes to see the waning moon again. Hanchuan hated the way of heaven for being blinded, and hated those who purified the world for harboring filth and evil. Three hundred years were like a dream, and the scenery was gone but his blood boiled. After the short period of self-pity, it was a spiritual rebirth. Everyone wanted him to fall, but he saved his life and vowed to save the hypocritical immortal family from then on. The blood feud was passed away, and the romance was temporarily suppressed. He wrapped his body around Yun Wujiu's neck with a fragility and innocence that was carefully decorated, and a sweetness like a poisonous snake. The man who looked like an ice sculpture had an indifferent face, but when he finally saw Miao Miao, whom he had been thinking about for three hundred years, at the end of the pile of corpses, his heart was as throbbing as the startling glimpse of Huo Xin Tower, and his actions were always true to his words. If Han Chuan had the sword, he would become the one who followed him most devoutly. His heart and soul were placed in Han Chuan's jade palm, and blood and love seeped into the palm lines of the two of them. The color of cold and heat for hundreds of years The flow of things in the world is as good as before The sky is full of hatred Crossing the water without a boat It's not my own fault that leads me to a smooth road