Celestial Bloodline - Chapter 688 You don’t want to clear up the misunderstanding?

A Group Chat with all the Anime Girls you love!Our MC can go to their world.No NTR, Dark MC, Just pure fun read and slightly ecchi fanfic.

“The fallen, the near extinction, those who wish to die, the rich, those who have been loved by life, and those who have been chosen. Are you ready to leave everything you have behind? Are you, the ones chosen by the gods themselves, ready to write history?”“Are you, the reason for the creation of the line between life and death, ready to become holy beings? Are you ready to climb beside Zeus, Odin, Archangel Michael, Lucifer the Fallen Angel, Buddha and others? Are you ready to become a God?”“You've been chosen!” These words would be the words James would hear the most from the moment he entered the tower.Behind the strange events, special feelings and dozens of things lost, James would have only one thing on his mind:“I will break through the tower and meet Chaos himself.”

An edict bestowed marriage.

A noble daughter with three strikes: no talent, no looks, no virtue.

A trash wangye – disfigured, disabled, seriously ill.

Everyone says: Perfect match!

Bridal veil down–she wore a shallow smile. Leisurely and calm. Having experienced life and death, she only wanted to lead a quiet life.

Going up to the wedding hall–he had a slight smile on his face; a heart as cold as ice. He suffered all kinds of humiliation, but there will be a day when he will stand above all beneath the heavens.

–He is my husband. To bully him is to bully me. To insult him is to insult me. To hurt him is to hurt me. If someone were to hurt me, I would have to get to rid of them!

–Benwang doesn’t believe in supernatural beings and doesn’t seek heaven. If she were to die, benwang would turn this entire world into purgatory and sacrifice this whole country to her!

- Description from Novelupdates

[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.