The washed-up magician Zong Jiu transmigrated into a horror, infinite flow novel about a survival show, taking the place of the cannon fodder who died tragically in the first evaluation round. This show was very interesting. Out of the tens of thousands of people, only a hundred people could survive, and the c-position (strongest contender) could even get a universal wish ticket.

If it were someone else, they’d probably be scared to death.

No one expected that Zong Jiu was not only unafraid, but also caused a sensational stir, shamelessly showing off his tricks the whole way.

Once his tricks stopped, and his life could be considered safe and sound, he ended up in a rivalry with the novel’s big villain.

Today you try to get at me, tomorrow I’ll get you back, back and forth, it’s pretty fun, heh.

As a result, though it was just playing around, one time they got carried away and really did end up sleeping together. Watching the nemesis who was pressing him to the ground, Zong Jiu lazily lifted his gaze. “If you want to kill me then kill me, don’t speak nonsense.” Even when at a disadvantage, he showed no trace of fear, and actually continued to provoke him.

That person used his ice-cold finger to trace his ear, and the action heading toward the aorta suddenly stopped.

“What a pity. I’ve changed my mind.”

—

He was once very willing to personally give Zong Jiu death. Every day, he used to regret not gouging out his flesh, personally snapping his neck. But after this person fell into his hands, another, more urgent desire grew like weeds.

Compared to winning or losing, he would rather see him crying and panting, with eyes red, begging for mercy.

The Third Prince, Zong Luo and the King of Beining, Yu Beizhou, have been at odds with each other.

Water and fire were never compatible. Their tit for tat confrontation was exhaustible.

Unfortunately, things went awry. After an imperial edict came, Zong Luo laughed facing the heavens. His ink hair was scattered, he closed his eyes, and committed suicide under the city gate.

However, he woke up again.

Following that, he became entwined with Yu Beizhou once more, till death eventually came upon him.

His enemy’s face was stunning, flamboyant, and sinful. Only after staring at him did he only notice a little bit of light floating within his unfathomable eyes.

“Senior martial brother,” Yu Beizhou said in a low voice, grasped his sword in hand, and touched his eyebrows intimately, “We meet again.”

…….

That night, Zong Luo had a dream.

He dreamed that after his death, the man sewed up his uncollected body, and kept it in an ice coffin for nine years.

Glory, wealth, and world domination that will last for thousands of generations- Zong Luo didn’t want it, but Yu Beizhou got it all.

However, no one knows that after going to court every day, after the tyrant dismissed the palace servants, he would walk into the cold bedchamber alone.

“Senior martial brother, it’s already nine years.” Yet it’s still so cold no matter how warm it is.

“I hate you so much.” He held the body in his arms and muttered to himself.

-Hate is the strongest form of love-