Rise of the Devourer - Chapter 17: Extending Trust

I was sixteen when the gods abandoned me.The Blessing Ritual was supposed to grant me power, a divine gift to carve my future. Instead, I received nothing. No abilities. No hope. Just another nameless soul left to rot in a world ruled by strength.Fine. If the gods wouldn’t bless me, I’d make my own power.For ten years, I clawed my way forward, experimenting with forces no human should touch. I pushed too far—and it killed me.Then I woke up.Sixteen again. Back at the Ritual. But this time, something changed.Time bends at my will. Blood moves when I command it.The gods still won’t acknowledge me, but it doesn’t matter. This world isn’t fair, and I’ve stopped playing by its rules. Faith and Chaos clash in my veins, and I will use them both.They wanted a Chosen Hero, someone to dance to their tune.Well, too bad for them—I’ll carve my own fate.

Li Che had transmigrated and, after living nineteen ordinary years, he opted to accept his fate, marrying and having children, striving to support his family.But the moment his daughter was born....Through his daughter, he rose in status, and his life was no longer ordinary....With his daughter’s safe birth, you gained a Dao Fruit, “Immortal Artisan”.When his daughter turned one, safe and sound, you gained the Dao Fruit “Dragon Elephant Vajra”.At his daughter's age of two, free from illness and disaster, he gained a Dao Fruit, “Pure Heart”.By the time his daughter was three, lively and clever, he gained a Dao Fruit, “Chess Saint”.His daughter was four, five, six years old.......Li Che discovered that with each passing year of his daughter’s age, he could condense a Dao Fruit to enhance himself.From then on, Li Che harbored a simple and unpretentious wish.A Dao Fruit a year, quietly safeguarding longevity.As a father, he only wished...Starting from the warmth of his wife and child by the hearth, to peacefully protect his daughter's immortality.Silently condensing countless Dao Fruits.Henceforth cultivating his spirit, invincible between heaven and earth.

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”