Before the Transmigrator Faked Their Death, I Made a Sacrifice

Wen Liangyu died, killed by a group of men who had once treasured him and treated him like the moon in the sky.

Only after his death did he realize that he was just a pitiful wretch in a stand-in story. His luck had been stolen, he'd gone mad and become impossible to like, and in the end everyone had turned against him, leaving not even a body behind.

Everyone in the cultivation world knew that Wen Liangyu, the youngest disciple of the Sword Sect's leader, was spoiled, willful, and not to be crossed.

He also had a beautiful face, red lips, features as lovely as a woman's, and a dazzling, radiant appearance.

He was everyone's precious darling.

But an accident left him gravely injured and unconscious.

When he woke again, he found a stand-in who looked seven-tenths like him waiting for him.

This stand-in was nothing like Wen Liangyu. He was kind, sensible, gentle, diligent, respectful of his teachers, and beloved by everyone.

More importantly, he was someone who had transmigrated into a book. His task was to gradually replace the original, become the cinnabar mole in everyone's heart, then, when the time was right, fake his death and pin the blame on the original. This would drive the men who had once been infatuated with the original mad and get the original killed, allowing him to go home.

And Wen Liangyu was the so-called "original."

He really had been killed.

After learning the truth, Wen Liangyu couldn't accept it, so he used a forbidden technique to force time to turn back.

Time returned to when he was seventeen, and the demon clan was invading while his master was in seclusion.

Wen Liangyu sneered. "Use me to get home? Not a chance!"

Before the transmigrator could fake his death, he drew his life-bound sword.

He looked at his sect, nearly destroyed, then at his brothers and fellow disciples struggling to hold on, and finally at his parents, covered in blood, and his brother, collapsed with grave injuries.

He gave a tragic smile.

Without hesitation, he chose to draw his sword and sacrifice himself.

That day, the Sword Sect's leader sensed his disciple's death, emerged from seclusion, and slaughtered his way through the battlefield. Blood rolled down the long steps at the sect's entrance, staining half the sky red.

The Sword Sect's most doted-on, most delicate young disciple had sacrificed himself.

Everyone went mad.

Only the transmigrator stood there, dumbfounded. Wen Liangyu's sudden, outrageous move had cut off his way home for good.

Theme: Oh~