webnovel

I'm a Young Master, so what?

"My Fate, My Hands, The Heavenly Dao will not squeeze me down a pathetic path to my doom." Long Wei, the young master and crown prince of the Imperial Haven Empire, faces a challenging path to greatness. Despite being blessed with incredible talents like the Void Dragon-Phoenix God bloodline, Eternal Void Meridians, Transcendent Dao Physique, and Heaven Shrouding Eyes, he finds himself at odds with the Heavenly Dao. It feels as though fate is mocking him. As Long Wei strives to reach the top, he encounters adversaries who rise from obscurity, armed with unimaginable artifacts and abilities that rival his own. Enemies, hailing from the future aim to thwart his plans and bring about his downfall. System Wielders seek to exploit his talents for their own gains, while Transmigrators are determined to put an end to him. Additionally, he must confront his own set of enemies and ancient monsters who covet his talents to advance their own cultivation. To achieve godhood, Long Wei must delve deep within himself and face perilous battles, intricate schemes, and mysterious secrets that trace back to the ancient Chaos Era—the very beginning of the Myriad Realms. His success depends solely on his own determination, as the Heavens have turned their back on him. Will Long Wei overcome the dangers that lie ahead, or will he succumb to the doom that awaits him?.

Unholy_Dragon_God · 玄幻
分數不夠
115 Chs

Hog-Fest 1

The Outer Court of the Spectral Combat Hall was a behemoth of interconnected courtyards, abodes, and various amenities specially crafted for outer court disciples to enjoy. It was located at the base of Spectral Combat Mountain, which, in truth, was a mountain range that held quite a large number of gigantic mountains. The largest was the Spectral Combat Peak, where the main force of the Spectral Combat Hall resided.

Long Wei looked up at the well-scripted sign of the Outer Court, lamenting whoever wrote it, as the handwriting befitted that of an Immortal or a God. He felt his own handwriting was inferior to what hung there, shaking his head with a light chuckle.