Soul-swapping:Imperial concubine rebirth - Chapter 725

Her sister steal her lover

She thought it was a dream

after rolling and waking

Nightmare Reality

Her loved ones, her love, her life

They were all trapped in that big fire

burned to ashes

Ye Qiu transmigrated to a world of barren wastelands. He obtained the 10,000 Fold Return System.

My name is Chen Huaian, and I’m dying of cancer.In my final days, I became obsessed with a game where you raise a virtual girlfriend.I spent all my savings buying her cultivation manuals and magical artifacts. Though my wallet was empty, I smiled like never before.I always thought it was just a game—until one day, my virtual girlfriend sent me a mystical pill.The next second, the pill materialized in my hand.I… might not have to die after all?——————————————————My name is Li Qingran. I was stripped of my cultivation, had my spiritual roots torn out, and was exiled from my sect, left to die in a broken-down hut.Just as I thought my life was over, I encountered a mysterious benefactor who never showed their face.This enigmatic figure healed my wounds, guided my cultivation, and helped me grow stronger until I became the most powerful sword cultivator in the Cangyun Realm.But the Cangyun Realm is on the brink of collapse. Spiritual energy is drying up, and the path to immortality is fading. Rumors spread that a mighty immortal from the Celestial Realm plans to merge our world with another on the verge of a spiritual resurgence.A great era of chaos is coming.And even immortals may fall.Desperate to find my benefactor, I scour the world for their traces.I will protect them—and become their eternal partner in the Dao!

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.