Transmigration: On the Gossip Front - Chapter 1070 - 1071: The Unpopular True Heiress 14

He was The Greatest Talent in the Nine Hells Realm.

Shen Zhenyi began to practice his sword when he was four years and two months old.

At the age of seven, he studied the Ten Thousand Sword Sutra. By the age of eleven, he fought against the Yudao in Shangqing Palace. In an instant, he unleashed one hundred and eighty-five sword strikes, making it impossible for anyone to retaliate. The Yudao admitted defeat and deemed him as “The Peerless Genius.”

At the age of 14, Shen Zhenyi, with his Six Forms of the Ancient Sword, surpassed the swordsman Zuo Tianxing who was ranked among the top ten masters in the world, and won the title of “The First Swordsman of the Abyss.”

He now lies crippled. A fraction of the state he was in before. Or so they thought.

- Description from Novelupdates

Everyone in the City of Jing thinks that bestowment of marriage between Xian Junwang and the daughter of the Yi’an Marquis House is to insert a fresh flower into manure.

Xian Junwang was that fresh flower and the di daughter of Yi’an Marquis House was that manure that was not liked.

It is said that what is heard is false, seeing is believing. Who knows what the truth really is?

- Description from novelupdates

The clock struck midnight when Ruelle heard the echo of footsteps. She tensed, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end in the cool night air.“You shouldn't be here,” Ruelle whispered, her voice a breathless murmur. The silhouette finally came to stand under the moonlight, his dark red eyes watching her and his inky black hair ruffling.“Shouldn't I?” His voice was a dark caress, and she stood there captivated by the danger he exuded like perfume.“I haven’t seen you for the last two days,” his tone low. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the silk of her nightgown, tracing the trembling outline of her collarbone. “Tell me, were you avoiding me, or perhaps... entertaining other offers?”Ruelle’s heart raced, her breaths shallow. She declared, “I don't belong to anyone.”“A bold claim,“ he murmured, his breath a tantalising chill against her skin as he leaned in. ”Yet here you are, pulse racing, your body tensed as if in anticipation of my touch.”His fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face towards his. The moonlight caught his eyes, revealing a glint of predatory intent. “Or must I remind you whose touch you truly crave?”

A high school student that has lived as a mob-character ―― Mimori Touka