A God of Slaughter Lives Inside Me

I, Li Zhao, eldest legitimate son of the Li family, am seventeen years old, born with a useless Chaos Physique and not a shred of cultivation.

My fiancée is the Seventh Princess, famed throughout the realm for her peerless talent and adored by thousands.

Today, she sent someone to break off our engagement.

In front of all the guests, she said I wasn't good enough for her.

I looked down at the chipped stone in my hand and sighed.

Then I brought out another soul to take over.

My right eye turned silver-white, my left pitch-black.

One half of my face sneered, the other grinned like a clown.

I performed a comic routine with myself.

“Rip out his tongue?”

“Hold on, hold on. It's the old man's birthday. Bad luck.”

“Then how about breaking an arm?”

“Why are you so violent? Just scare him a little.”

By the time I hoisted the prince up, he'd wet himself.

The guests stared at me like I was a monster.

My father wept tears of joy.

Oh, right. I forgot to mention.

There's a god of slaughter living inside me. His name is Lu.

I call him… another me.

We share one body, and for the past five years he's been teaching me:

When someone hits you, hit back. When you slap someone, make it count.

Today, the first face-slapping is done.

There's a whole line waiting for their turn.

In a nutshell: Everyone else gets a golden finger. I've got an old ancestor living inside me. Two souls, one body, and we specialize in putting arrogant people in their place.