My Simulated Road to Immortality - Chapter 1730 - 1418

[MATURE CONTENT]Arella is an angel.Well, she used to be an angel. A real, bona fide, halo-wearing, wing-flapping celestial being. That was until one tiny whoopsie where she unfortunately burns a pair of wings at a banquet happens.Fine!There was more than one tiny whoopsie.Fast forward a few hours later, and Arella found herself booted from the pearly gates with nothing but her wings and an eviction notice.Her family called it a “vacation.” Ha! A vacation, in the human realm of all places!One hundred years later, Arella calls it her new life. Turns out, living among humans isn’t half bad—especially when you can turn invisibly smug at their lack of ability to fly. Early retirement has never been so blissful. That is, until the heavens smack her face with a message: Arella’s back on duty. And her new job? Marry. The. Demon. King.Wait, what?!Marrying the Demon King isn’t exactly on Arella’s bucket list, especially when demons and angels have been sworn enemies for eons. But orders are orders. So, off she goes, wings drooping and attitude cranked to full sass, to meet her new husband—a devilishly handsome demon who seems unnervingly smitten with her.Not to mention the heat that surges within her the moment she lays her eyes on him. Cue in dinner dates, fiery arguments (literally), and a series of catastrophes involving Arella purposefully setting a demon's hair ablaze with her holy fire.But as Arella settles into this bizarre celestial-demonic union, she uncovers a sinister plot that threatens not just her marriage but their entire reality. Turns out, angels and demons might have to join forces to stop a threat that neither side can handle alone. And Arella? She might just be the unexpected key to saving everyone.Armed with nothing but her quick wit, trusty angelic powers, and a painfully doting husband who may or may not leave her love notes carved into rock when she is angry, Arella must navigate battles, betrayals, and the occasional marital spat to protect their world. After all, nothing says “happily ever after” like saving existence itself, .... right?Right?One fallen angel. One absolutely smitten demon king. And a whole lot of chaos.

I was sixteen when the gods abandoned me.The Blessing Ritual was supposed to grant me power, a divine gift to carve my future. Instead, I received nothing. No abilities. No hope. Just another nameless soul left to rot in a world ruled by strength.Fine. If the gods wouldn’t bless me, I’d make my own power.For ten years, I clawed my way forward, experimenting with forces no human should touch. I pushed too far—and it killed me.Then I woke up.Sixteen again. Back at the Ritual. But this time, something changed.Time bends at my will. Blood moves when I command it.The gods still won’t acknowledge me, but it doesn’t matter. This world isn’t fair, and I’ve stopped playing by its rules. Faith and Chaos clash in my veins, and I will use them both.They wanted a Chosen Hero, someone to dance to their tune.Well, too bad for them—I’ll carve my own fate.

Qin Hao crossed into a parallel world and unexpectedly inherited the position of the current Celestial Master of the Qingyun Mountain Celestial Master's Mansion.Draped in purple robes, holding the authority of the Xuanmen sect.Bound to the Super Celestial Master System, he could earn different rewards every day by completing designated tasks.Organizing Taoist scriptures, he received the reward [Taiping Qi Technique]!Cleaning the main hall, he received the reward [Innate Golden Light Curse]!Sweeping the mountain gate, he received the reward [Soaring Immortal Step]!Pruning flowers and plants, he received the reward [Innate Yimu Qi Capture Technique]!Wiping the statues of the Three Pure Ones, he received the reward [Righteous Thunder Law]!...He thought he could live peacefully without trouble, but unexpectedly, a photo that went viral online pushed him into the spotlight.A self-proclaimed fighting champion and male live streamer entered Qingyun Mountain, claiming to seek a man in purple robes for a challenge.A match of martial arts.The live stream was filled with over a million enthusiastic viewers.They supported the male live streamer in exposing a fraud, wondering whether the rumored Celestial Master in purple was truly as powerful as said.Under the watchful eyes of the public, Qin Hao reluctantly accepted the challenge.Qin Hao asked, 'Fellow practitioner, what shall we compare?'The male live streamer smiled confidently: 'I've heard the Celestial Master in purple is unmatched in martial arts; I have practiced free combat since I was young and have specifically come to learn something from you!'Qin Hao shook his head: 'Martial arts, I do not know.''What do you know then?' the male live streamer asked.Qin Hao unleashed a palm strike into the air, condensing the five thunders within his palm, and with a mighty slash.Golden thunder transformed into a blade of qi, slicing directly at the challenger. The thunder left in its wake split the 'Challenge the Celestial Master' plaque that the male live streamer had brought, right in front of the mountain gate, into two halves.Qin Hao said with a smile: 'I know thunder spell!!'

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”