I'm an Infinite Regressor, But I've Got Stories to Tell - Chapter 330

The person with the best martial art skill in the world, whose prestige is unparalleled. The head disciple of TianQing sect, the leading sect of all Six Great sects, and Jianghu’s number one, Ming ChangYan shaoxia.

During a decisive battle, he slipped and fell.

His ten years of cultivation was completely annihilated and reduced to a normal human.

Fortunately, he was lucky enough to have fate decide that his life shouldn’t end there, and he survived.

The doctor told him, “To gain back your cultivation, enter the palace as a concubine!”

In order to get the medical herb that was given to the emperor by the XiYu Region, the immortal’s grass, Ming shaoxia could only wear a skirt, apply makeup, endure the humiliation, suffer patiently, and join the palace drama.

Ming ChangYan: This shaoxia is shameless.

Unfortunately, just as he dressed up in drag and entered the palace, he meets the man he once picked up from under a mountain.

…..

Ming ChangYan: I was joking just now…..this is too shameless!

If I were to be found out by him, my (old) number one reputation would go down the drain!

- Description from Novelupdates

They said they came from out of nowhere. There were no signs of their arrival nor there were any loud sounds.

One day, Humanity woke up and was forced to accept their existence...along with the destruction they brought with them.

Ashton West, a orphan and a transmigrator from Earth. He woke up in this near-apocalyptic world without anyone else to rely on aside from himself.

Thankfully, he was blessed with a golden finger that came with his transmigration package!

Ashton: This world needs a Hero...sadly, I can't be bothered to be one.

Ashton: Surely there's someone out there who can fulfill that role. As for me? Well...

"Being 'Humanity's Strongest Backer' doesn't sound so bad."

***

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"Your bed is cold," spoke a voice in the room that had her eyes go wide in fear. Nervously, she turned around, gulping softly to see a shadow on her bed as if someone laid down there. The man who had been lying down sat up emerging out from the shadows where he had been waiting for her.

A replica of Marquis Kieran Vale, the son of the Marchioness of Vale, who she deemed a failure. That was all she was. No, she was now referred to as “he.” At least until she met Claude Del Ihar.