Mated To The Cruel Prince - Chapter 903: Arrival Of The Monster King

Chen Mu, a low-level officer, thought he could only live a cautious life, but unexpectedly he got a system panel that could accumulate experience, and he could master all the skills with just one practice.

[Blast Knife + Gale Knife + Wind Chasing Knife = Blast Artistic Concept]

[Jade skin grinding method + sand iron method + coarse salt method = skin of copper and steel]

A peerless martial saint with unparalleled swordsmanship, bronze skin and iron bones, and a body of pure gold was born step by step.

- Description from novelbuddy

The protagonist transmigrates into a novel and gains a system where they grow stronger by simply writing in a diary.July 7th, sunny: “The boss’s outfit is hideous again. Wouldn’t it be better to wear something cooler?”July 7th, evening: “I’m about to have my engagement called off. So excited! How should I act?”July 7th, evening: “Lin Qingyue, the female lead, is probably going to drown her sorrows in alcohol.”The protagonist thought it would be easy—just jot down daily musings, record life’s events, and earn rewards. All while playing the part of a villainous, bootlicking second-generation rich kid, moving along with the original plot.But unexpectedly, the female leads gain access to copies of the diary entries.One by one, they stop following the script, and the plot spirals completely out of control.July 10th: “The female boss is an idiot—no one would want her.”Soon after, the protagonist gets punished at work, all because they entered the office with their left foot first.

Three centuries ago, reality tore open and parasites from another dimension poured through. They didn't just kill humanity—they consumed it, wearing human faces while spreading like a plague through every major city.The strong became Originals, commanding lesser generations in a hierarchy of monsters that humanity calls Bloodsuckers.Now they own everything. Governments, corporations, entire cities bow to creatures that should be myths.That's when the Shadowguard was born. They were humanity's elite hunters equiped with the skills and tools to put an end to the bloodsuckers. But they became nothing more than political tools, protecting the wealthy while the poor got harvested by Bloodsuckers like cattle.Kaine Cross was one of the best hunters alive until he walked away from the corruption. He decided to become a solo hunter.Unfortunately, going freelance got him killed by the very monsters he'd spent twelve years learning to destroy.Death was supposed to be final. Instead, Kaine awakens in an ancient tomb with a system that makes him something the bloodsuckers have never faced—a predator that grows stronger with every kill, commands armies of the dead, and turns their own kind against them.Every kill feeds his strength. Every corpse becomes a loyal soldier. Every battle expands his growing army until even vampire lords will bow or join his ranks permanently.[LEGENDARY WEAPON ACQUIRED: SOUL END - THE DEATH REAPER][SKILL UNLOCKED: CORPSE DOMINATION - UNLIMITED ARMY CAPACITY][MORTAL ESSENCE SYSTEM: ABSORB POWER FROM EVERY KILL]Zombies. Liches. Reapers. Wights. Revenants. And even monster girls; beautiful, deadly creatures once enslaved by the vampires now serve at his side, bound by Kaine’s will or by lust, vengeance, and freedom.He's not a hero. Heroes save people. Kaine Cross collects enemies and turns them into allies, whether they want to be or not.The vampires ruled through fear for centuries. Now they're about to learn what happens when death itself holds a grudge.Join Kaine as he builds an unstoppable army of undead and monster girls, and leads them on a path of blood-soaked revenge.Build an army. Claim your revenge. Rule the dead.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.