The path of salvation.
Long and arduous.
Yet Servia walked it without pause.
Whenever she thought of giving up, whenever the cold loneliness gnawed at her, whenever thunder roared and lightning split the sky—
Her fingers would instinctively tighten around the hilt of her sword.
Yearning for that illusory reunion.
To strive for it, to become the light itself.
Over time, the grand mission of salvation became etched into the soul of the hero, merging with her very truth.
It was a brilliance so radiant that even the Undying Monarch of the Endless Netherworld would stagger in awe.
It was light.
It was courage.
It was the gratitude of countless lives, worlds, and planes.
A radiance too beautiful to behold.
"H-How…?!"
The Immortal One looked down in shock, staring at the "Holy Sword" impaling its body, confusion twisting its features.
But soon.
That shock twisted into mockery.
The Immortal One prepared to strike back.
A Seventh-Circle Wizard governed life, death, and fate—unless overruled by a higher authority, such as the Root of Death from the Endless Netherworld, no harm could truly touch it.
"Mindless insect…!!"
The power to rewrite laws surged once more, rippling through the world and beyond.
The Immortal One tore free from the blade’s restraint.
And the battle between it and Servia reignited.
Cold yet warm "blossoms" bloomed across the sky of the soul plane, where law clashed against law, where the undying waged war beyond life and death.
Planes crumbled. Chaos rewrote itself.
The battlefield drowned in the blood of the immortal.
Two Seventh-Circle Towers emerged from the void, gathering immeasurable light and heat, unleashing ruinous beams of runic energy that forcibly erased legions of the undead.
"Something’s wrong."
Time passed.
The Immortal One, once certain of victory, now sensed an anomaly in its body—its expression twisted in horror.
"My essence… how could—"
"Shing!"
A blade forged from the will to save worlds, carrying the gratitude of countless realms, struck at the perfect moment—erasing the very concept of the Immortal One’s existence.
A path the Immortal One had never foreseen.
A miracle deemed impossible.
Yet now.
The hero, in the form of her sword, delivered the final blow.
"Wizard… did I…"
"Did I win…?"
Servia fell from the sky, crashing onto the shattered earth of the Netherworld.
Her face was weary, her body drenched in blood.
No one answered her. The only sound was the mournful wail of the spectral wind.
Loneliness crept into her heart.
Tears welled in her eyes once more.
But the hero was strong. She swallowed her sorrow, rose in silence, and stood again.
Gazing up at the Netherworld’s sky, she felt countless watching eyes lurking within the suffocating despair of death.
They were the rulers of other soul planes within the Endless Netherworld.
Among them, beings far beyond Seventh-Circle Wizards.
Those hailed as Eighth-Circle—or even Ninth-Circle—the pinnacle of existence.
"Wizard…"
"I think… I’ve become as willful as you."
"I can’t… turn away from suffering worlds anymore…"
Staggering to her feet, Servia accepted the "inheritance" of the fallen Immortal One—the authority over this soul plane of the Wizard’s world.
Only then did the watching gazes withdraw.
The hero sought no dominion, but she knew—if she refused, another Immortal One would seize this plane.
"I need… time…"
Dragging her battered body forward, Servia smiled bitterly.
Her own thoughts frightened her.
She wanted to purge the Undying Monarchs of the Endless Netherworld, to rewrite its laws, to ensure no world would suffer as the Wizard’s world had.
"If the Wizard knew… they’d scold me…"
"But now…"
"They can’t stop me…"
Silence.
Then, the sound of falling tears.
To become an Immortal One, one must walk the path of soul and truth.
Eternal life.
Undying existence.
These were the privileges of the immortal.
Yet endless time eroded their desires and humanity. All they craved now was greater power, higher ascension.
Self-enlightenment proved too arduous.
So, the Immortals chose a shortcut—seizing control of the soul planes within the Endless Netherworld.
Through them, they communed with the Netherworld’s ancient mysteries.
Time birthed laws within the Netherworld, imposing limits on the Immortals.
They could not freely corrupt the living worlds.
They could not claim unlimited soul planes.
Thus, a fragile order was maintained.
But how could the Netherworld’s nascent instincts truly restrain the Immortals?
Even the Netherworld itself was a calamity—merely drifting near other worlds would bring ruin.
In her journeys across planes, Servia had witnessed too much suffering.
And so, she resolved to change it all—to correct this twisted world at its root.
She would overturn all creation!
……
"Audacious! How dare you?!"
"Kill her!"
"Let this plane be shattered if we must!"
After years of silence, the hero known as "Servia Clawphire" launched her assault on the other soul planes, erasing one Immortal after another.
At first, the Immortals watched indifferently.
They assumed she sought the Netherworld’s authority.
The strong naturally claimed more planes—so none intervened.
But as time passed, the truth became undeniable.
Servia’s slaughter never ceased. Even after seizing the maximum number of soul planes allowed by the Netherworld’s laws, she continued her relentless purge.
Naturally, her defiance provoked retaliation.
Seventh-Circle Immortals united, joined by Eighth-Circle overlords, to hunt her for eternity.
Yet the outcome defied expectations.
Somehow, her slaughter of Immortals still aligned with her truth of salvation.
The hero fought on, growing stronger with each battle, retreating when necessary—until, against all odds, she ascended to the Eighth-Circle.
Her blade grew heavier, each strike carrying the weight of entire worlds—heavy enough to erase even the eternal.
"Have you ever heard… the weeping of worlds?"
With those words, her sword cleaved through a fragment of the Endless Netherworld.
Some faltered. Some grew curious.
Even the Ninth-Circle, the so-called Creators, descended to challenge her.
But Servia no longer fled.
She burned herself as kindling, igniting the flames of salvation.
"Muscle Enhancement!"
"Agility Boost!"
No profound spells.
Just two of the most basic, zero-circle incantations.
Yet her drawn blade moved faster than time, struck harder than space itself—converging the will of countless living worlds to carve an undying light into the Endless Netherworld.
u Chenyuan transmigrated into a female-oriented novel about a real and fake heiress, becoming the CEO elder brother of both. Unfortunately, the entire Lu family—including himself, the CEO—were mere cannon fodder in the story. Determined to save himself, Lu Chenyuan took action. The spoiled, attention-seeking fake heiress? Thrown into the harsh realities of the working class to learn humility. The love-struck real heiress? Pushed toward academic excellence, so lofty goals would blind her to trivial romances. As for the betrayed, vengeful arranged marriage wife… the plot hadn’t even begun yet. There was still time—if he couldn’t handle her, he could at least avoid her. "CEO Lu, are you avoiding me?" Mo Qingli fixed her gaze on Lu Chenyuan. For the first time, the shrewd and calculating Lu Chenyuan felt a flicker of unease.
ts me of treason?" "Correct. The host must return to the capital and gradually build up influence." "Wait—I have half a million soldiers, and you want me to go back to the capital to 'build influence'?" "Host, you are currently the Northern Garrison General, loyal to the Great Xia Dynasty." "Of course I am loyal to Great Xia! Absolutely loyal!" "But you keep referring to yourself as 'We'..." "Never mind the details! Summon all the regional commanders and military officers! We suspect treacherous officials are manipulating the court! They shall march with Us to the capital and purge the corrupt!" "......"
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
] [Lone Wolf, No Male Gaze] [Protagonist is pursued early on; extreme protagonist-stans, stay away!] The "Carnival Paradise" descends and slowly devours the real world in the form of a game. By chance, Zhu Yan awakens the talent [Roleplay], becoming one of the first beta players. He thought he could develop safely, but after clearing the first instance, he is branded by humanity as the chief culprit behind the game's spread—a traitorous villain. A villain? Who would ever... become one! He'll be the villain! From then on, Zhu Yan is not only a player but also a lackey for the Carnival Paradise. Between the straight path and the crooked path, he chooses the con. With his left hand, he dons the villain's mantle, staging scenes within instances, infuriating players who decry him as a despicable traitor, all while the game happily promotes him. With his right hand, he joins the non-human organization "Fangcun Mountain," which opposes the Carnival Paradise, transforming into a mysterious player who slaughters game bosses, earning cheers of "Long live the expert!" from fellow players. Gradually, Zhu Yan rises to become an S-rank human player in Fangcun Mountain's archives, while also being the Carnival Paradise's certified top game Boss. But when the final war erupts and both major factions place their hopes in him— Players tag his various aliases: "Experts, this offensive depends on you." The Carnival Paradise's supreme Boss throws an arm around his neck: "Bro, you're the iron, I'm the steel; you can't let me down again!"
