Martial King's Retired Life - Volume 11.5 Chapter 23

He is very cold and passionate, Mu Yanwang, who means what he says. He has always regarded women as dirt but she, he has only spoiled her.

At first, he said with overbearing arrogance – “Even you are mine.” Afterwards, he gradually fell for the enemy – “Mine is yours.” Finally, he surrendered obediently, – “Ning Xiaofei, I’m also yours.”

Ning Xiaofei, his little wife. He just wants to put her in the palms of his hand, to love.

- Description from Novelupdates

The ninth son of the Tianhan Immortal Emperor of the fairy realm, Qin Yun had the rare gift of the Chaos Immortal physique and even achieved the cultivation level of Real Immortal at ten years old. He was so skilled that his father was considering making him the successor to the throne.

But his idyllic life was shattered at the hands of a massive conspiracy, and the Immortal Emperor, his own father, not only exiled his mother to endless torture in an unfathomable abyss, but he also sealed away Qin Yun’s intelligence and memories away and banished him to the mortal world.

Stuck on Earth as a helpless child, he is taken in by a beautiful woman in a small town who adopts him as her younger brother. Things are fine for a while, but when a bully attempts to extort his newfound sister for sex, and no one is willing to stand up to him because of his powerful friends, can Qin Yun tap into his old skills to protect her?

Xia Ruofei, a retired special warfare elite, unexpectedly discovered that the ancestral scrolls contained a small space that was independent.

There are Lingtan waters that promote plant growth in the space. There are mysterious spiritual flowers that cure all diseases. They also bring ten times the time flow rate. What is planted is a fine product, everything grows fast, and what can be cultivated is spiritual…

From then on, planting flowers, planting trees, raising animals, and licking beautiful women, Xia Ruofei opened a wonderful life.

- Description from ptwxz (translated)

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”