Cultivator of the End: I Refine My Own Death - Chapter 125 – Those Who Cling to Breath

This is the story of a person who transmigrated into a world with a radically different worldview.

In a fantasy world where martial artists can split mountains and creeks with a wave of their hand and break rivers with a kick, there exists a little restaurant like this.

The restaurant isn’t large, but it is a place where countless apex existences will rush into.

There, you can taste egg-fried rice made from phoenix eggs and dragon blood rice.

There, you can drink strong wine brewed from vermillion fruit and water from the fountain of life.

There, you can taste the barbecued meat of a ninth grade supreme beast sprinkled with black pepper.

What? You want to abduct the chef? That’s not going to happen, because there’s a divine beast of unfathomable level, the Hellhound, lying at the entrance.

Oh, that chef also has a robotic assistant that killed a ninth grade supreme being with a single hand and a group of crazy women whose stomachs were conquered.

1 drop of blood = 1-Up

Other people game overnight, I game overnight and bleed.

Ever since the dimensional storms descended upon Earth, numerous dimensional zones have appeared, bringing with them all kinds of dimensional creatures—Immortals, Buddhas, Devils, Angels, Elves, etc.

Yet, all these strange dimensional zones can turn into dungeon instances on my phone. Other people risk their lives adventuring, I spend all my time gaming.

Monsters drop dimensional crystals that boost stats, imbue new skills, and join me as Companion Beasts. These Companion Beasts fight alongside me or alone, augmenting me with their skills and strength. Rare monsters in real life? I’ll just restart the game with a drop of blood to grind it.

I really need a blood transfusion.

“Take it off.” In less than two minutes, he ripped off my short skirt and pinned me down on the bed. To get an Alpha to agree to collaborate with my father's company, I, as the bargaining chip, slept with this cold and ruthless Alpha. I thought that night would be the end of our encounter, but later on, I was forced to become his breeder. As time passed, I unexpectedly developed other expectations for him. Freedom was my only hope. However, I then learned that once I gave birth to the child, he would kill me. So I fled. When we met again, I was no longer the timid girl I used to be. I had become stronger and more beautiful. He regretted it and pleaded, “Don't go, Tori!”Bye, My Ruthless Alpha is created by Cynthia Lance, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.