MTL - The Fake Daughter Made a Sensation All Over the World By Relying on Metaphysics - Chapter 645 I've hurt people for so many lives

Qi Condensation. Foundation Establishment. Core Formation. In the current world, only these three realms are known to be achievable. Nascent Soul is but a legend and the realms above it lost to the the long river of time. The modern era is known as Cultivation Civilization, a balance of power and civility, excess and moderation. While cultivation remains a secret practice, it has long since exposed itself to the mundane world, quietly intertwined with each facet of society. While the world appears to be at peace, what lies underneath is a conflict between human, cultivator, and demon, brewing for ages and waiting to implode. Yet in the wake of humanity’s rapid industrialization, qi—and consequently cultivation—is dying.

Once Gu Qingjiu, she was fortunate enough to be born in the “best” family, ended up having a miserable and unjust life.

Reliving her life once more, Gu Qingjiu chooses to enlist in the military and bear the toughest hardships she has ever faced. Everyone says that she’s the least possible person to join the special forces. However, she manages to prove all of them wrong.

Good-for-nothing? Who’s the good-for-nothing? Is she a good-for-nothing when she can throw all of them onto the floor in a fight? Is she a good-for-nothing when she has results better than everyone else? She’ll prove all of them wrong.

Enter Helian Niancheng, the well-known, youngest major-general in Beijing. A banishment sends him into the basic ranks in a military camp as a new recruit. From then on, he meets a person that makes him dote on and protect at all costs, his beloved. However, his beloved is only focused on fighting and killing. Major-general Helian declares this to be a very bad, a very terrible situation. Yet, Gu Qingjiu merely replies,

“Scram! Lower your gun if you dare!”

The Night Has Come, and kermesinus moon ascends in the sky.Hoarse whispers flow at the street corners, and brass steam machines spew out bloody mist.Your brain is singing a hymn, eyes are chanting a melody.Skin cracks, and flesh buds swell.Amidst the Mist, the wall of flesh that has devoured thousands of corpses wails endlessly—“Weep not, our players don't bite, they just want to play with you.”Annan, the lone strategist, the top player, the savior of the mist-covered continent, the leader of the Thirteen Saints, the friend of the Twelve True Gods, the king of pioneers, “the Just”, the Gatekeeper of the Fourth Calamity, the uncrowned deity, advised kindly.