I’m Actually a Cultivation Bigshot - Chapter 12: I Am A Demon Sword

[COMPLETE] Can a royal Romeo and Juliet find their happy ending?

Ayleth, Princess of Zenithra, is secretly trained in hand-to-hand combat, and collects swear words she doesn't know how to use. During the Festival of Peace, in which every royal son on the continent will be at the castle for a month, she is instructed by her parents to find a husband. Yet, Ayleth has never even been kissed—until the very first ball, when she meets the man in the Lion mask.

Etan is a seasoned warrior, and the Prince of Summitras. He attends the Festival hoping to find a powerful wife who will help him conquer the dark sorcery of their bloodsworn enemies, the Kingdom of Zenithra. But at the very first ball, he discovers the masked woman who captures his heart is the Heir to the evil empire.

Ayleth and Etan face an impossible battle. Will their love survive? Or will their parents' dark dealings keep them apart forever?

[Mature content. No sexual violence.]

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“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

“No, Ayleth. This changes nothing.”

“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

“Ayleth, please.” His voice cracked on the plea and she stared at him, shoving her mask up and off, despite how it would pull her hair out of the beautiful twist the maid had managed for her.

His eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

She had met her One. And he was the son of her bloodsworn enemy.

She stared at him as he stepped forward again, offering both hands, palm up. “Touch me,” he whispered. “Hold my hands. This is real, Ayleth. I don’t know how it happened, but this is real. Please don’t deny it.”

She couldn’t resist. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, letting her palm catch on the scruff of his jaw. He blew out a breath and put his hand over hers, and that jolt that happened whenever they touched shivered through her again.

“Please, Ayleth.”

“I cannot deny it,” she whispered.

A crownless king in the world of gods.Akamir had unrivaled strength, wealth, and prestige in a realm governed by martial ability.Yet one mistake cost him his life.When Akamir awakened in the fragile body of a disgraced noble’s son,he found himself in a world steeped in mana, ancient artifacts, and gods who watched from above—A world shaped by otherworlders summoned thousands of years ago.But the longer he lived in this new reality, the more he noticed its abnormalities.“I am a villain?”A world with a predetermined path.“...In a romance fantasy game and novel?”He had become the anomaly.

The nascent Chaos had just been carved out, and the barren void welcomed the souls from the Otherworld.As the first soul in the Chaos World, Laine automatically became the God of Spirituality.However, divine power stems from Divine Power, and the existence of spirituality was insignificant; thus, the newly born Laine was extremely weak.With no other choice, to avoid being overturned by the torrents of fate, Laine had to rely on himself.He carved out realms, and birthed lives belonging solely to spirituality.He created sequences, scattering the steps to deification.He wove the Magic Net, enveloping the sky, the oceans, and the land.When the bell of dusk sounded, I raised my divine seat and proclaimed to all beings from the pinnacle of the Spirit Realm:There are two facets to the world, the material and the spiritual.The material belongs to the gods, and the spiritual belongs to me, such is the ultimate truth of all things.

In the Kunlun Snow Palace, a sage once said, those who pass away wander, while the living cannot let go.Once the soul departs, it will wither like the autumn grass.Those who are reborn from the dead, existing apart from the mortal realm, shall be shunned by all celestial sects and smitten as undead demons.On this day, a youth awakens from within a coffin, his blood dry and his bones chilled, to find himself a century old upon opening his eyes.A single tear from a sage awaited, a constant companion, may unravel the dreams of the past.Seeking not immortality but a mundane death, not to lament with the ages over lost love and resentment, but only wishing to grow old with tenderness in this lifetime, beneath the white clouds that hold no envy for the heavenly realms.