Kaijin Fighter: So I Have to Make Monsters, So What? - Chapter 402: Butterfly Effect: Warehouse miracles

A man betrayed by a comrade dies a wretched death as a third rate swordsman. His existence, his life, his emotions are all a nuisance in the eyes of society. But wait… What’s this green skin? Reincarnated as a goblin? Wait, I went back in time as well?

Qin Aofeng, a third-generation descendant of the great and prestigious Qin Family, was just as famous as his genius big brother Aotian, but was famed in Qin City for being the “Good-for-nothing Seventh Young Master.”

The compound is perilous, the clan is full of conflict. Before her rebirth, she dressed as a male, her birth a mystery. Because of her lack of talent, she was thought of as a worthless member of the clan. After her rebirth, she walked onto the path of a strong person, and lived on the continent like a fish in water.

Until one day at the capital city of the empire, the spear of the patriarch pointed to her young uncle that she always treasured, the “young male” that had always been undistinguished stood out, and astounded everyone, becoming a peerless genius. Ever since then, countless males and females became made for … …

The vast ancient forests, the deep bogs shrouded in back mist, the desolate and endless desert, the mountains and plains without any border where the magical beasts moved unhindered, this was a vast magical world.

- Description from Novelupdates

“Live the life you want this time.”

A peerless assassin, codename: Hua, has already started her career ever since she was a child. Her mission’s record was perfect and whoever deemed to be her enemies would end up dead without knowing why.

When war ended, she was sent to an institution where she was watched heavily. The doctor in charge gave her an ordinary wuxia novel to read.

An avalanche struck after she had finished reading.

When she woke up, she had turned into Nan Hua, the young miss

Epic fantasy presence: Ashes Of The First Tyrant [AOTFT]Prologue – The Law of AuraThey say every soul burns.Some flare brightly and fade. Others smolder quietly for a lifetime.But a rare few, rare beyond reason ignite with such intensity that the world bends to them. These are not gods. Not yet.These are the Tyrants.And their aura is not a gift.It is a weight a burden.In this world, aura is everything.It is the breath behind a sword strike, the pressure behind a command, the silent will that can crush or inspire. Most are born with it. Few master it.But only one…only one in an ageawakens the Tyrant’s Spirit…the aura that dominates not by force, but by presence alone.