Dual Cultivation: Beasts and Women! - Chapter 110: Enemies of My Enemy

Chen Chao dreamt of becoming a powerful immortal cultivator, flying on his sword and vanquishing enemies with daoist magic. His hopes were dashed when he discovered that he had absolutely no talent for immortal cultivation.

Refusing to submit to his fate, Chen Chao joined the ranks of countless other talentless martial artists and embarked on the path of martial cultivation, a path scorned by the immortal cultivators.

In this era of strife where martial cultivators, immortal cultivators, and demonic cultivators wrestled for hegemony, Chen Chao will either rise to the top or fall into eternal damnation.

An avid Xianxia reader suddenly has his dream come true—he wakes up in a world of cultivation. The only problem? Maybe it wasn’t really his dream after all.Now, faced with the daunting reality of countless cultivation realms to climb, countless worlds to ascend through, and countless arrogant young masters to deal with, despair begins to settle in.Fortunately, a glimmer of hope appears amidst the chaos: a mysterious system that could change everything.Armed with elders, ancestors, and a sect leader—who are all actually his own avatars—he no longer feels completely overwhelmed.“At least I don’t have to do it all alone… well, technically, I do. They’re just avatars, after all.”

“What I want, the Heavens shall not lack! ”

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”