The Journey of Immortal Cultivation - Chapter 79 - 69: A Career with a Promising Financial Future

Bubbles…Soft, fragile, and fleeting. They drift without purpose, bursting at the slightest touch.They aren’t weapons. They aren’t threats. Just harmless playthings, forgotten the moment they vanish.But what if bubbles weren’t so innocent?What if, in a world of Hunters—where magic shatters mountains and fists split seas—someone awakened a Skill based entirely on bubbles?A joke. A death sentence.Goblins would laugh.The weak would pity him. The strong wouldn’t even bother to look twice.But powers can hide secrets. And some truths are buried in plain sight.When a nameless F-Rank awakens the “Bubble Skill,” no one expects him to survive.Let alone rise.However, the indomitable spirit of River Faelan refused to die.Step by step, he climbed to the top—shattering every limit placed on a “mere” Bubble Mage.He proved them all wrong.And he’ll do it again,Even if it means starting from the very bottom… for one more time.

His muscles screamed, his body begged for rest, his mind ordered him to stop. But Bakugo couldn't. Not while Izuku hadn't arrived. So, he pushed forward. Every explosion, every strike, every movement was pure determination, a reflection of his unwavering will to win.For a moment, he felt beyond himself. Fast. Precise. Almost invincible.And then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The battlefield vanished, and the pain ceased.It was in that moment that Katsuki Bakugo understood... he had died.Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.

She was the Eldest Legitimate Daughter of the General's Mansion, treacherously harmed and died a miserable death. Perhaps moved by pity, heaven granted her rebirth. She returned to four years earlier, not only possessing heterochromia that allowed her to see what others couldn't but also equipped with a portable space. She vowed to make those who hurt her and her mother pay in this life.He was a Prince with a Different Surname from Moli Country, holding military power and commanding awe in all directions. It was said that he had conquered most of Moli Country, and even The Emperor showed him deference. Legend had it he was a bloodthirsty prince who killed without blinking an eye.One day, she encountered a ragged but handsome man on the street, who chased after her, shouting, “My wife, my wife.”The woman said, “Damn it, who is your wife? Aunt isn’t even engaged yet! Go where it’s cool and stay there.”The man responded, “You are my wife, and I've decided to follow you for life.”“A feel-good story, both leads are strong, a pampering love story with 1v1 romance.”

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.