Adventures Of A Goblin - Chapter 239 Monryck The Minotaur Leader Against The Trolls

“Obtaining the topmost degree of talent in sword arts in the world requires giving up 72 years of lifespan, which leaves you with only five more years of your life. At the same time, you will never be able to feel love, kinship, and friendship, and you’ll end up leading a lonely life until your death, unable to procreate, or to have any descendants.

“From now onwards, everything related to happiness in the human world shall no longer be of your concern. Are you willing to accept this?”

“Hahahaha, I’m already alone bereft of all support, my hopes dashed to pieces, shouldering only absolutely irreconcilable grudge and hatred, why would I disagree? Why would I not want it? I couldn’t ask for anything better!!”

His sword sweeps across the Divine Continent for seven days and nights, moving 90,000 miles through the starry skies, unhindered.

He slays saints and buddhas in Heaven, slaughters demons and devils in Hell, sweeping away all the grievances in his heart.

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?

The young master of the Huo Family was well-known in the Rong City. Having been brought up in a military, political, and business family, he was decisive in dealing with businesses, yet sexually continent as it was said. Nevertheless, he happened to fall in love with an illegitimate daughter.

He was once Head of the Immortal Sects.

Jiang Zheliu resisted the world’s destruction, protecting the people single-handedly. After losing all his spiritual energy, his hair turned white overnight.

All that remained was a millennium passed in vain, and a grave disease.

He distanced himself from the Cultivation World, went to Zhongnan Mountain to collect herbal medicines and grow flowers, as if to retire.

Until….. Those little demons he had once saved, his cherished juniors, even those devils that he had suppressed innumerable times, all came knocking at his door, each more excited than the next gripping his hand:

“Qianbei, what type do you like? Can you not be so rigid on your requirements?”

Jiang Zheliu: “……？？？”

Wenren Ye is newly appointed Devil Lord of the Devil Realm.

He is cold-hearted, devilishly handsome, and when he was younger he suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of a certain Head of the Immortal Sects.

Still obsessed with this defeat, Wenren Ye hurried through the night to Zhongnan Mountain, but all he saw was white-haired weak Immortal Sects Leader, with droopy eyes, sick to the bone, with freshly coughed up blood staining his lips.

His obsession was still alive, but his heart was also thumping.

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