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... sh-Dragon Island, the steward of Evergreen Hall said nothing more, silently registering it in the ledger.

"A first-rank high-grade Spirit Island’s rental price is usually 200 Spirit Stones per year. How many years would the young master like to rent it for?"

The Third Elder glared at him: "When an upper-grade Artifact Refiner from Artifact Hall rents a Spirit Island, do you dare not to offer a discount at Evergreen Hall?"

The steward smiled bitterly and after some negotia ...

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Waking up from a nightmare several hours before dawn, Belle fetched a drink of water.

She paused in front of her kitchen’s window when she noticed a lit lantern in front of her mansion’s garden. Her butler stood there, shovel in hand. This was no hour to be gardening.

Curious, she made her way outside, but when she had gotten close enough to see a large and hollow pit next to her eternally-stoic and polite butler, she saw him pick up a rotten body.

A DEAD BODY!

Her eyes widened fearfully when she saw her handsome butler drop the rotting body into the fresh hole. She asked in horror, ”What are you doing?!“

Surprised to see his young miss awake at this hour, he stared at her with the same expression he had been keeping up for all these years. He had made sure she was asleep before coming here.

“Gardening.”

“And the body?!”she looked at him in disbelief.

“Fertilizer,” he answered her before picking up the shovel that was on the ground. Belle was now certain something had possessed her butler. Who gardened dead bodies?!

She then heard him ask her, “Want to help me in planting it, Miss Adams?” he gave her a sweet smile.

Note: If you enjoy a book of comedy with light-hearted romance and a gothic background. This book is for you~

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Duwei is born in this new world from Earth without making any sound, he does not cry, he just stares at the people around him. As he grows he does not speak and curses this new world in which he is forced to live.

His father a great general of insurance he must have aptitude for something, nevertheless he is not more than trash. Ignored by his family as the “ret*rded” heir.

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[Warning: Mature Content]

“Master, are we going to keep what happened last night a secret between us?”

“For how loud you moaned and cried, Qing-er, I think the whole world has already learned all about it, and your concern is irrelevant.”

Yun Qing-er, the only disciple of the legendary immortal swordmaster Bai Ye, has been hiding her feelings for her master for years. Unaccepted by norms and morals, it is the darkest secret that she swears to bury deep within her heart.

But life has other plans. Bai Ye's desire for her burns hot beneath his solemn appearance. He will teach her not only the art of the sword, but also the pleasures of life that she never knew existed before.

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Smut starts at Chapter 17, with a teaser in Chapter 11. A bit softcore at first but will get wilder quickly as the story moves on :)

Note that this is NOT a typical cultivation romance. Immortals and spiritual power and whatnot are all plot devices… You'll see what I mean in just a few chapters!

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[Sneak Peek]

He pinned me against the poplar tree at the center of the garden. A breeze rustled past, stirring the sunlight sparkling through the autumn foliage above us, and a sprinkle of gold fell over his shoulders. “Say you want me,” he whispered.

“Bai Ye—” I breathed, but the rest of my words were replaced by moans the moment he traced his kisses along my neck and took my earlobe into his mouth.

Familiar tingles roared through me as he nibbled and suckled gently. His hand slid up my chest, and he played with my sensations with his lips and tongue and fingers until my arms trembled around him. All other thoughts vanished from my mind. The only thing I knew was the irresistible feeling of him on me, so overwhelming that my knees started growing weak. I would've fallen if he wasn't pinning me hard against the tree.

“Bai Ye …” I moaned again, clawing at his clothes. “Of course I want you … Right here, right now.”

He let out a soft puff of laughter, and his hand grazed down, gripping the folds of my dress. With a rip of fabric, he tore them away.