Cultivator of the End: I Refine My Own Death - Chapter 51 – Blood Price of the Gate

When a cold and crafty girl travels into the body of a foolish, man-crazy, young female aristocrat, what will happen?

Scream out.Awake and pour out the grudge left in you onto me.Then, I shall save you.

Glenn Hughes had spent most of his life confined to a hospital bed. Brilliant yet shackled by a cruel fate, he endured ten long years under the relentless weight of an unforgiving disease. Between medications, surgeries, and agonizing treatments, death had begun to seem less like an end and more like a mercy.But when he finally closed his eyes for the last time… rest did not come.The stench of sweat, dust, and blood was the first thing to greet him. Shackled, filthy, and drained of strength, his body was no longer his own. He was no longer in a hospital but in a cell. No longer a patient, but a prisoner.“What the… what the hell is this?”Glenn had been thrust into a world of steel and prana, reborn in the body of a condemned slave. Once a noble, now nothing more than a number among the damned.Yet, something was different. There was a reason he was still alive.Witness Glenn’s transformation as he is dragged through agony and ecstasy, suffering and desire, boundless pleasure and unrelenting torment—all while shouldering a burden so crushing that any other man would break.------------------------------------------------------------------------No netorare (NTR), no system, no incest, no consanguineous relationships.

We were a peaceful people living in harmony with nature in the vast lands of Lyréanor, but this peace was short-lived when our people were defeated by the dark elves, an ancient people even older than this world. It is said that they arrived in Lyréanor by boat and since their arrival, chaos has been unleashed. Proud of their obscure power, derived from dark rituals, they have raised gigantic armies of monsters whose name is synonymous with terror: ‘Obscurus’.They went on the rampage, and everywhere they went the grass didn't grow back, life died and disintegrated. Seven, there were seven. The seven dark elves known as the Lords of the Apocalypse. A single gesture from them was enough to strike us all down, a single gesture from one of them was enough to decimate us in blood and terror.And as I, Foster, contemplate the macabre scene before me, the bloodied and deformed bodies of my fellow elfes beings, and as death grips my soul, a strange sign appeared before me.[Ding... Activation of the world tree system]