Cosmic Paragon - Chapter 39: Survival Training!

Opening his eyes, Long Tian finds himself in a scene where he's beating up a protagonist.

He's confused, until a deluge of foreign memories assaults his mind, leading him to a chilling realization: He has died... and transmigrated.

But there's a problem - he's become a villain!

At first, he's okay with this. But the more time passes, he notices something.

Why doesn't he have a system?!

This worries him. Going up against a protagonist without a system feels like a suicide mission.

But of course, he doesn't lose hope. He looks at his own identity.

The young master of an ancient family, check.

Rich and good-looking, check.

A genius with extraordinary talent, check.

Awakened the martial spirit of a dragon king, check.

With all of these, does he have any reason to complain?

“Goddamn protagonist, I will make you suffer!”

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Harem or not? I haven't actually made a decision about that. Let the storyline unfold, and we'll see in the future.

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This is a very interesting thing. It is obviously dim and black, but it can emit a golden light, which makes people deeply fascinated by it…

- Description from novelbuddy

Tang Qiu was a substitute bride–forced to take her half-sister’s place and marry the young master of the Jiang family, a deformed cripple with less than 6 months left to live.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Jiang Shaocheng would find himself a bride?”

“I hear that he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Fengs’ daughter to improve his lifespan.”

Tang Qiu ignored the whispers around her and focused on her husband-to-be, who coughed violently in his wheelchair. At the altar, after they had said their vows, she lifted her veil and knelt in front of Jiang Shaocheng, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips.

The marriage contract was signed. No matter his physical deformities, he was now her husband.

She wasn’t afraid of the scars that marked his face, nor was she repulsed by him being confined to a wheelchair. Every morning, she made him breakfast, attended to his needs, and thought of little else beyond her duties as a wife.

“Young Master Jiang is a cripple who can’t get it up,” her best friend argued. “When he dies, you’ll still be untouched. You should set your sights higher.”

“A sickly invalid like Jiang Shaocheng can’t give you happiness,” her ex-boyfriend insisted. “I’ll wait for you.”

But Young Master Jiang only scoffed. “I have plenty of time left to be with her.”

Later in their marriage, Jiang Shaocheng wanted to enjoy his little wife in all ways–the press of her lips against his, the brush of skin on skin; the way a husband and wife were supposed to. But Tang Qiu refused him, blushing. “No, we can’t. The doctor says you can’t exert yourself.”

Jiang Shaocheng’s desire was surging through him, a heat in his core that demanded to be satiated. He cursed, I should have gotten rid of that doctor and the wheelchair long ago.

But he yearned to make love to his little wife, and so he revealed his true identity. In the blink of an eye, the deformed cripple transformed into a powerful businessman–tall, dark, and handsome. He quieted Tang Qiu’s protests, his body positioned over hers, his arms caging her as she lay on the bed. His voice was low when he asked, “What about now?”