Bai Mo, you evil bastard!

“Only the weakling will care about race and lineage, that’s because they need to see something that is similar to themselves to feel safe. And they need to use another life to continue their dreams; But the sun doesn’t need another sun, and the eternal one doesn’t need another to realize his own dreams.”

A story of a lone seeker constantly searching for a way forward.

[Infinite loop. Surviving in the cracks. Neither a saint nor invincible. Everyone's IQ is online. A slow-burn evolution.]

Ning Mu, who once suspected he was mentally ill, eventually realized the terrifying truth—the world was trapped in an endless reset. As the original course of events began to unravel, something far more sinister emerged: ghosts were real.

And those who devoured these ghosts… awakened extraordinary powers.

Now, everyone was hunting—fighting and feeding on ghosts to grow stronger.

After surviving countless bizarre and brutal incidents, Ning Mu faced the one who now stood above all, almost godlike.

“Go in peace. Don’t rewind time again,” Ning Mu said quietly.

The “god” remained silent—and rewound time anyway.

“Ning Mu, just give up.”

“Yeah! How can we fight against a god?”

Ning Mu only shook his head.

“Who’s to say what it really is—a god, a ghost, or just a human?”

The treacherous streets of Gotham, a palace buried deep beneath the sea, an eerie, forgotten castle…

When Luo Xiu stepped into this infinite world of madness and desire, the gears of fate behind him began to turn.

Twisted cravings. Hypocritical masks. Shattered souls in need of repair.

The deeper Luo Xiu delved, the more he gained—and the more the sickness within him began to fade.

And at that moment, it felt as if Luo Xiu had finally become… the real Luo Xiu.

An exciting journey through endless worlds?

No.

This is the Devil’s Infinite Game.

An Immortal does not differentiate between good and evil, nor do they care about the distinction between black and white. They do not ask what is right or wrong, and consider all living things as dogs. In spite of everything, Immortals pursue the Dao with bitter resolve.

Any being who disturbs my Dao, good or evil, will be forced to meet their karma, reduced to nothing more than ashes.

“Mortals can also become immortals”

A white-haired old man looked at a young man in front of him and gently stroked the boy's head. The boy lay on the ground with his eyes closed, his body trembling and his expression excited.

Since gods and Buddhas are useless, then I will come in person and ask for my life from heaven!

…

This is the story of a terminally ill man who regained his soul and cultivated the ultimate path, killing Buddhas and gods in order to seek immortality.

“By pushing light into darkness, I obtained incredible power. By sucking the essence of life, I became an immortal monster.”

He was dressed in a sacred cloak. Singing commands to the horde of demons.

“Yes, even if this might be my fall, I’d die either way!”

He was merely a child who became a s*ave. Powerless and abandoned. Never once did he hesitate to do anything to overturn his doomed fate.

After all, a God is above all moral values.

This is the story of a man who has succeeded in evolving his mortal body and soul into that of a God.

Only the cultivators can represent the truth under this dark, starry sky! They are still regarded and celebrated by mortals, no matter how selfish and shameless they are!

It’s the story of a demonic cultivator who is willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of immortality.

A thousand years of impermanence, killing endlessly. Fame is the same as dirt, disdaining the ridicule of the virtuous.

His sword cuts through iron and kills people when he’s furious. While consuming his share of wine, he laughed at ghosts and gods.

Killing and fighting on earth and in heaven, terrifying the underworld. The act of killing one is a crime, but the act of slaughtering ten thousand is heroism.

You are a hero among heroes if you have slaughtered nine million people!

Seeing through a thousand years of benevolence and righteousness, but let this life display the majestic wind. There is no love for my name, no condemnation in my heart for having killed a million people!

"When the four great continents collapse and the heavens fall, I shall ascend to the Heavenly Realm of Mount Ling and take command of the Thunderous Voice."

Ji Yuannian stood in silence upon a lotus seat of ten thousand leaves, clad in pristine white Buddhist robes. His jet-black hair cascaded like a waterfall, eyes cold and distant as he gazed toward the far western horizon, where the vast and mist-veiled Mount Sumeru loomed.

...

Wherever paths cross, there are only immortals or cultivators—seated in stillness, preaching the Yellow Court Scripture.

And so, the story begins...

In Beiju Luzhou.