Owari no Chronicle - Volume 13, Chapter 20: How to Speak of the End

After someone took my life away from me, I felt something or someone pulling my entire being together with my memories away from me and placing them into somewhere where it was cold and hollow. And when I thought that my life came back to me...

I realized that my new life as one of the dead had already begun...

"Who am I?"

Which path will this soul choose? A path of Perseverance or a path of Ruination?

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P.S: This is my first novel that I write so there is bound to be mistakes...so go easy on me xD

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”

Lin Jiao and Gu Quan have been in love for two years, playing the role of a little white flower for his liking, willing to be humble as dust.

She thought that Gu Quan loved each other as much as she did.

But at a party, I heard him and others say, “Lin Jiao is very good, but it’s not her.”

Only then did Lin Jiao realize how ridiculous her character was.

She was ashes as she was, and when he left himself and lingered with his sweetheart, she left the stage sadly.

*

Later, Gu Quan, remorseful, found Lin Jiao.

He grabbed her hand, his eyes full of nostalgia: “Jiaojiao, forgive me, okay?”

“Not good.” A man in a bathrobe suddenly appeared and hugged Lin Jiao tightly in an absolutely possessive posture.

He glanced at Gu Quan defiantly, leaned over and whispered, “Wife, shall we continue?”

【Guquan Crematorium】

【The second male upper position】

【Double C, 1v1, Cookies】

- Description from novelbuddy

[Warning: Mature Content]

“Master, are we going to keep what happened last night a secret between us?”

“For how loud you moaned and cried, Qing-er, I think the whole world has already learned all about it, and your concern is irrelevant.”

Yun Qing-er, the only disciple of the legendary immortal swordmaster Bai Ye, has been hiding her feelings for her master for years. Unaccepted by norms and morals, it is the darkest secret that she swears to bury deep within her heart.

But life has other plans. Bai Ye's desire for her burns hot beneath his solemn appearance. He will teach her not only the art of the sword, but also the pleasures of life that she never knew existed before.

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Smut starts at Chapter 17, with a teaser in Chapter 11. A bit softcore at first but will get wilder quickly as the story moves on :)

Note that this is NOT a typical cultivation romance. Immortals and spiritual power and whatnot are all plot devices… You'll see what I mean in just a few chapters!

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[Sneak Peek]

He pinned me against the poplar tree at the center of the garden. A breeze rustled past, stirring the sunlight sparkling through the autumn foliage above us, and a sprinkle of gold fell over his shoulders. “Say you want me,” he whispered.

“Bai Ye—” I breathed, but the rest of my words were replaced by moans the moment he traced his kisses along my neck and took my earlobe into his mouth.

Familiar tingles roared through me as he nibbled and suckled gently. His hand slid up my chest, and he played with my sensations with his lips and tongue and fingers until my arms trembled around him. All other thoughts vanished from my mind. The only thing I knew was the irresistible feeling of him on me, so overwhelming that my knees started growing weak. I would've fallen if he wasn't pinning me hard against the tree.

“Bai Ye …” I moaned again, clawing at his clothes. “Of course I want you … Right here, right now.”

He let out a soft puff of laughter, and his hand grazed down, gripping the folds of my dress. With a rip of fabric, he tore them away.