MTL - Peerless Pill God - Chapter 111 Dragon Scale Skin (2)

Shi Jin once read a book. It was supposed to be about satisfying the desire for vengeance.

The main character, also named Shi Jin, was the sixth son of his harem-novel-protagonist-like father. All was well—while his father was alive. But after his death, Shi Jin’s five elder half-brothers tormented him, eventually leading to his death. The protagonist was reborn, determined to take revenge, and… the novel was discontinued.

That day, Shi Jin almost spat blood and dropped the book into a shredder. The next day, he died in a car accident. Somehow, when he came to, he had transmigrated into a teenager, a youth also called Shi Jin.

There was only one problem. His father had just died. His older brothers were about to torment him…

Shi Jin: Let’s eliminate my brothers’ hatred, my goal is to keep my life!

- Description from Novelupdates

This is a story of a transmigrator leading a small martial sect to rise. It is a fantasy tale set in a world of ordinary people cultivating and vying for supremacy, without the assistance of any system.

Weary reader, it is an honor that you have chosen this book amidst the heavy, dim library.Regrettably, this book is unwell.Your fingers should be able to feel the raised growths on the surface of its cover,Words written in bygone days are like parasites rooted in the pages, hoping for someone to observe their wriggling,To feel, to decipher, to touch the essence of this ailing story.If you insist on borrowing this book, please make sure to regularly check your own physical condition.

I once believed I was the heroine of a modern fairytale, blessed with beauty, wealth, intelligence, and a powerful legacy. Men adored me, women envied me, and I was engaged to the most desirable man, Cole Fay. My life seemed perfect, a dream where I held the starring role. But on my eighteenth birthday, that illusion crumbled. The truth hit me hard: I wasn’t the protagonist, nor even the villain or a side character. I was just cannon fodder, a disposable part of someone else’s story. But when fate recognized the cruel joke of my life, I was granted a second chance. This time, I’ll write my own story, living for myself. And this time . . . I will never love you again.