Supreme Star Card Master - Chapter 607 - 482: The Star Lord Who Killed the Most Star Envoys_2

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.

He was born with the most powerful attribute ever seen—yet it’s the one power that no one can control. Not even him.Unstable. Chaotic. Dangerous.Aramith lived an almost quiet life—until strange visions and fragmented memories began to haunt him. Whispers of a name he doesn’t remember. Shadows moving where none should be. And a voice, deep within, urging him to awaken.When hidden forces begin to stir, and those he trusted reveal their fangs, Aramith is thrown into a war of secrets, bloodlines, and ancient powers.He doesn’t know who he is.He doesn’t know what he is.But something inside him does.And it’s waking up.In a world ruled by strength and deception, what happens when the greatest threat is the truth buried within you?And what will you do when you find out your world is nothing but a tiny piece, a fragment of a greater universe you never were prepared for, one that wishes for your extinction?

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.

Emperor Yongning liked his daughter, but he gave birth to eighteen sons in a row. For this reason, he specially asked the master to fortune-telling. Did he have a daughter?

The master told him, “Your Majesty, you have a daughter, and the daughter was born long ago.”

Emperor Yongning waved his hand and said, “I only have eighteen sons and no daughters.”

Master: “No, you have only seventeen sons.” The other is a daughter.

Emperor Yongning: “Absolutely impossible.”

Until one day, Emperor Yongning saw his eighteenth son Jun Ning, wearing a double-ring bun, wearing a pink skirt, pretending to be a little girl, and excitedly said to him: “Father, I am It’s not the prince, I’m the little princess you always miss!”

Emperor Yongning: “…What nonsense, you are my son.”

Jun Ning: “No, I’m your daughter.”

“Come on, give me a medical examination!”

After the test, it turned out to be a daughter.

Emperor Yongning: He, he has a precious daughter.

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