This book is also known as "The Diary of the Female Prime Minister" and "How the Wives of the Chaebols Are Made"

What is a city tycoon? What is he in the face of world power?

What's the point of urban rebirth? What if I can't live forever in the next life?

In early 2024, he was hailed as the last Maoshan monk who could ascend to immortality.

Fang Zuo.

The ascension and tribulation failed, and the Nascent Soul fell into Tokyo.

Wreaking havoc at the top of the power pyramid around the world.

In the days of searching for the truth behind the disappearance of aura.

Filled with widows, tycoon wives and garbage collectors.

Fang Zuo suddenly realized that these strong women were all helping him intentionally or unintentionally.

She became a female prime minister, a female president, and a female chaebol, standing at the pinnacle of the political and business circles of various countries.

When I woke up from a hangover, my hair seemed to have grown in the wrong place and all over my chin. My skin was pale as a ghost, and what made me even more angry was that I had a red tattoo of the Black Society.

But I thought of the axe called Leviathan next to me, the kid called Atreus who called him father, and the wife who was pregnant but was lying there waiting for him to be cremated...

Unspeakable things were whispering at the bottom of the abyss, and the Old Ones were wandering in the starry sky.

The endless distortion brought by the pursuit of the unknown brought an end to all wizards who pursued the truth.

Only Lyle, whose sanity value was locked by the system, embraced His hands, kissed His face, and whispered something that terrified them.

"Add another hour, and use more strength."

Slow pace + research-oriented protagonist + martial arts + demons + auto-play system

The path of martial arts is like climbing a ladder to heaven, requiring a clear understanding of realms, physical training, spiritual enlightenment, and the breaking of shackles. Each step is thorny, woven with blood and tears. It's a well-known fact that cultivation requires endurance beyond human capabilities—standing still in a pine-like posture under scorching sun, breathing in and out without ceasing in the bitter cold of night, reshaping meridians with gritted teeth, and defending one's true heart against the demons that devour one's soul. But how can a mortal body endure this endless arduous training? Even the slightest instability in one's foundation can lead to eternal damnation.

But I can "hang up"