The First Order - Chapter 175 - A new item in the palace!

She woke up from her sleep to the divorce papers that the original owner’s husband tossed at her.

“F**K! I'm dead!”That was the first word I muttered after regaining my memories from Earth.Reincarnating into a world of cultivation should’ve been a blessing. Adventure, immortality, power—what’s not to love?But then I remembered what my family did.My sister just broke off an engagement with a crippled young master—definitely a future protagonist.My mother ripped a Dao Bone from my cousin and gave it to me—guaranteed future revenge arc.And me? I’m already a third-rate villain: bullying weaklings and flaunting my Bai Clan name.Worst part? Despite the Dao Bone, I’m still trash at cultivation.My only hope?The System... which I’ve had for years.“I just never realized... It was in English!”

“You call yourself a hero? After your greed killed my sister?”What would you do if all of your friends, everyone you ever loved besides your sister, died in front of you?What would you do if, because you were weak, everyone hated you and considered you a Wasted, someone who hurt humanity's chance to survive extinction?Adam continued fighting despite this abuse, because he still had 1 simple goal: even if he was nothing more than cannon fodder or wasted potential, he would keep his sister safe.But then, it wasn't the Kaiju or apocalypse that killed her. It was the Exalted, the strong, the heroes of society.The people he was supposed to praise were the ones who took his last hope in life away before killing Adam as well.So, when he regressed with a villain system that rewarded him for killing Exalted...[First Exalted killed!][Artifact: The Mantle has upgraded to level 2!]

[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.