The Cold Lord God Always Acts Like a Spoiled Brat To Me

The girl of luck is indeed the girl of luck, and even if she falls behind, the rules will always be on her side.

 The rules are blocking Jiang Chaan.

 Jiang Chaan has violated the NPC's responsibilities.

 She will be punished by death.

Either die or be imprisoned in the eighteen hells.

 Whatever it is.

 There will never be a No. 1 again.

 This is the price of losing.

"Aren't you going to help?" The white cat lay on the cold floor with ancient golden patterns, licking its fur lazily. Its ice-blue eyes were like mysterious glacier gems. It got up and walked around Ranbai several times. , "She can't win luck."

 “Poor little guy.” Ranbai said slowly, “It should be even more pitiful.”

 The bells echoed.

listen.

"he came."

 The sun and the moon migrate, and time and space are torn apart.

 The endless cold breath enveloped the library late at night.

The black card enshrined in the center seems to sense the presence of its owner and break free at any time.

Jiang Chaan felt palpitations in his heart.

Bright red blood dripped from the corners of his mouth.

 She has no heart, this is the only bond with him that has been formed for hundreds of millions of years.

 The pressure and punishment of death.

 It is a sickle, black, with a deep outline.

 Always ruthless.

 He appeared, lowered his eyes, and looked at her.

"Master." Jiang Chaan's body was like a decayed butterfly, dying. She had no intention of killing the **** and was panicking about being exposed. Instead, she stretched out her hand towards him with trembling black long wet eyelashes, as if she had been picked up casually by him at the beginning. The same pitiful and harmless person, soft fur, innocent soul, eyes full of tears, respectful and humble, with such a dependence that dare not cross the distance, "I hurt so much."

 She is a liar.

 She didn’t lie.

Your internal organs are in pain, dislocated and twisted, and your bones are shattered. This is the punishment of death.

 Scythe should be destroyed if it has the consciousness of betraying its master, right?

 He raised his hand.

The voice is cold and contains no emotion.

"come over."

Jiang Chaan walked toward him step by step with difficulty, his delicate white fingers tightening the sleeves of the God of Death, without warmth.   Being grabbed by the throat.

 A slice of sweetness.

 His breath is vaguely in the breath.

 It is the coldness of the eternal night.

 It is so profound that it is engraved into the bone marrow.

hard to forget.

 A bond that is difficult to break.

 Is it really just for the sickle?

"Who are you?" Ziying forced her body to stand up, still unable to stand upright under the strong cold pressure. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and she knelt on the ground, unable to even look directly at Him.

 “You shouldn’t hurt her.”

 His sight is like looking at a dead thing.

-No.

 It shouldn’t be like this.

Luck has been given, but also deprived of it. Ziying has always relied on herself to not lose, but now she is horrified to find that the thing in the dark that she has always relied on is gradually being taken away...

"No!"

 Cinnabar pen.

  Draw the last line.

 Bright red like blood.

Dianbai bowed slightly.

"rest in peace."

 “There is work, Judge,” He said.

 The card enshrined under the golden light hangs on the slender and pale fingertips of the God of Death.

"The 49th reincarnation is over, I should meet Pluto." Rye held the Bible in her arms, her silver hair was wrapped around the thick ancient black leather cover, and her blood-red pupils looked down at the girl who was strangled by the throat. She looked like a butterfly in pain and unbearable.

 “Good luck to your little pet.”

 …

 …

 The eighteenth level of hell.

Pluto looked at the seven additional names on the list, shook his head, held an ink pen in his hand, and tapped Hei Wuchang's head on the left, and then tapped Bai Wuchang's head on the right, "You can't even accept a soul. What’s the use!”

 His eyelids suddenly twitched.