Grinding Cultivation Toward Martial Saint - Chapter 337 - 50 Unpredictable Means of Gods and Ghosts

In her previous life, she was humiliated and bullied every day. Her relatives despised her and her friends played tricks on her! Her mother and elder brother died one after another early. She gritted her teeth and survived the adversity alone, but only managed to live for twenty-six years!When she opens her eyes again, she finds herself back in time twenty years ago. To swallow insult and humiliation silently and let history repeat itself? If everything couldn't be changed, what was the point of her rebirth?! Who can stop her now that she defies her destiny and her abilities are emerging? In front of others, she is an ordinary student with an indifferent personality, isolated by her classmates. Behind their backs, she works step by step to build a brilliant and extraordinary business network.

Do not underestimate the act of tilling the soil. The practice of farming holds the power to command the clouds and dictate the rainfall with a mere flick of the wrist. Similarly, never undervalue the humble farmer, who might draw the gaze of stunning women, and vie for the affections of fluttering butterflies.A stunning journalist makes for a worthy companion, and even an aloof, imperious law enforcement officer could be brought to plead for mercy. A tutor? Allow me to provide additional instruction! I may appear as a regular individual, but through a stroke of fortune, I have embarked on a captivating journey, dancing amidst the wind and the clouds!

A new emperor rules each year in Yohuachanca.Only the most delicious of food graces his palate; the realm’s most beautiful women fill his harem; his palace dazzles the mind in its beauty; and four priestesses counsel him in all matters. The life of an emperor is good, luxurious, and short. For at the year’s end, he is sacrificed to the Nightlords under the light of the Scarlet Moon.I am Iztac. A pisspoor orphan and the year’s emperor. A sacrifice bound for the altar. But the vampires have made a mistake this time. For I am a sorcerer, whose soul journeys into the secret underworld to plunder the secret spells of the dead. There, in the darkness, hides the power to drag the Nightlords off their throne. I have a year to find it, or perish for good.I may not be the first emperor, but I will be the last.

When we lose our hearts to the wrong person, setting a betrayal in place, how well do we come out from such hurt?