The Demonic Cultivator In Zombie World - Chapter 105: Replanting of Spiritual Roots

I possessed a third-rate villain who died in every route of my favorite game.

But I want to live.

Karsha, a general in the United States Army, was a loving father and husband who was accused of killing his wife and two children. As a result, he was sentenced to death. However, his life took a turn when a sinister being transmigrated his soul to a world of cultivation. He awakened as a slave and slowly rose through the ranks thanks to a strange system with its own agenda. He began walking the path of cultivation and immortality, which will soon drive him into a conspiracy so grand that his understanding of who he was, who he is, and who he is to become will be put into question.

Memories surged like a tide into her head after she was reincarnated, and she found out who she was… A complete pushover. Her name was Beiting Huang, a direct descendant and third-generation descendant of the Beiting Dynasty. Her fearsome reputation stretched across all nations on the continent. She was a girl, but she was disguised as a boy for some reason. Everyone was also after her wrist… to hack it off and take the bracelet she wore, which was actually a high-level spiritual item that concealed her gender.

Everyone included her own brothers. Her brothers were fighting and killing each other, tearing the dynasty apart in the process… and she happened to be caught in the crossfire.

Mercy? Did the old Beiting Huang not beg before she died? Did they spare her when she did? An emotion that was not hers stirred within her body, and Beiting Huang knew it was the old Beiting Huang’s grief.

In her mind, she assured her: Don’t worry. Since I’ve reincarnated in your body, I shall avenge you. Your death will not be senseless! After those words, the old Beiting Huang’s emotions faded.

Now, there was only one Beiting Huang. She was the underworld’s king, a mercenary lord who slaughtered and plundered with the world at her feet. Reincarnated into the fearsome Beiting family as its ‘useless’ ninth son, the world’s riches were once again in her grasp. She cultivated impossible abilities, contracted with magical beasts, and possessed a mystical dimension. She also trampled over gods and demons as and when she liked. Cold and handsome, her very presence was proud and magnificent, causing the world to fight for her affection.

Three rejections. Three shattered dreams. That was Layla’s reality, all because she was different—a half-shifter in a world obsessed with purity. Ostracized, shunned, and finally sold off like a pawn to the most feared ruler alive—the Lycan King. He was ruthless, a king with a graveyard of brides, each one a ghostly reminder of a fate worse than death.Layla loathed him. Hated the way his gaze cold and fathomless, held no warmth for her. Hated how his touch, both thrilling and terrifying, sent an uninvited chill down her spine.---“I hate you!” I screamed, hands clenched so tight my knuckles ached.He sighed, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips, his tone mocking as he closed his book with a deliberate snap. “Stressed, are we?” he asked, strolling toward me, each step reminding me exactly who held the power here.“Lucky for you,” he drawled, rolling up his sleeves as he stopped just inches away, “I know exactly 70 ways to ease those nerves.” His fingers brushed my cheek, a touch that seemed to burn into my skin. “The first… a hug.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he leaned in, breath hot against my ear. “And the rest... well, that's 69? what do you say about that?”I swallowed hard, my heart thudding wildly as he tilted his head, waiting for me to react, that insufferable smirk still in place.“What’s the matter, darling?” he murmured, a taunt lingering in his gaze.---A Dangerous ObsessionCan she resist the pull, or will she dance into the flames of her own destruction?A dark dive into obsession, raw need, and the razor’s edge between desire and devastation.---LYCAN KING CASSIANI will tear her apart piece by piece, feeding the wildfire that grips her with each shuddered breath. Like air to flame, I’ll claim every inch, drawing heat from her skin until it sinks into her bones.Her pulse will race under my hands, her breaths shallow, pleading. Her eyes may scream, but her lips will still murmur my name. That first taste of fear will only feed something deeper—a need that burns through her veins, molten and fierce.And just when she’s too far gone to turn back, I’ll twist the knife, giving her the pain she’s learned to crave.She’ll be the moth to my flame, helpless against the very thing that will consume her.