My Sweet Physician Wife Calls The Shots - Chapter 3657 - (Author's note) 371

On his 20th birthday, Tyson’s life took a drastic turn when a mysterious Meta-bot chooses him, granting him a powerful armor and thrusting him into a battle far bigger than himself.Now as a Ranger, he joins the fight against the Rogues while mentally prepares for the deadly tournament—the only way to earn years for Earth’s survival.The battles inside Tournaments always broadcasted live while warriors risked everything for Earths sake and for their families sake.Now, Tyson must navigate his fractured ties with his adopted brother while falling in love with the most beautiful girl from his academy, who turns out to be the former General's daughter.Will he take responsibility and prove that he is worthy of the Roger family name, or will he crumble beneath the weight of expectations before time runs out?------This novel is a blend of sci-fi and fantasy, featuring a 'weak to strong' progression. My focus is heavily on character development, so if you're looking for a any regular story then this novel might not be for you!Tags: Action, Adventure, War & Politics, Tournament, Fantasy, Romance, Gore, Death, Brotherhood, Alliances, Dungeons & Maps, Weak to Strong, Sci-Fi x Fantasy, Character Growth, Power Progression, Mecha Battles, Revenge & Redemption, High-Stakes Survival, Emotional Depth, Betrayal.

I turned my assassin into my maid with the power of money! Money is all-powerful!

It was a world full of swords and magic; Lawrend was the son of the wealthiest merchant in town. Since the age of 7, he had been having dreams. A dream about a past life in a modern civilization where monsters are nonexistent, and humans dominate the world. Lawrend saw Iron birds, Magical bricks that display moving paintings, Thunder wielding, and many more.

There was a scene in one of the dreams that made Lawrend’s heart beat fast. A row of a dozen maids bowing in front of him. Each dressed in a french maid outfit.

Something awakened inside Lawrend when he had that dream. A fervent desire to have his very own Maid Harem!

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.

The archaeologist “red-haired witch” made too big of a disturbance while excavating tombs, gloriously becoming a martyr in the midst of the grave chamber’s collapse. Seventeen years later, she had transmigrated into the Five Regions Continent. The delinquent Meng Fuyao who struggled to survive in the lowest rungs of society, cast aside her boyfriend who was about to marry another person with a slice of his five fingers.

“Believe me, she will be an absolutely perfect wife. With her by your side, you will be like an aristocrat and her luxury poodle – no matter where you go, your status will increase by a hundred-fold and complement each other perfectly.”

Forsaken love, abandoned like dog shit. From then on it was a boundless sky and open sea, a trek of ten thousand li. To obtain the Seven States seals, fight against the world first. For the hope of return in her heart, brazenly collide with the Machiavellian royalty of the seven states, uniting the outstanding and talented under the heavens through fortuitous meetings.

And so, will this road of chanced affection go through the peak of heavenly mountains and the warmth of bonfires; the glint of sword shadows and the coldness of the glance backwards; the autumn sun’s golden wind and the flying sweep of the robe sleeve; or that chilly moonlit forest and that sprint like an arrow’s? Once love and that chosen, narrow path cross each other, which will prevail?

She said, I can dedicate myself to you, but if you do not want my body of hot blood, then I must draw your blood. She said, the efforts of my entire life have run in the opposite direction of true love, so are the heavens laughing at me? Then I guess I can only laugh at the heavens.

Three chi of torn silk, one zhang of spilt blood. A thousand li of expanded territory, ten thousand fallen corpses. One day the Luan and Phoenix will soar up with the winds, and Fuyao will rise straight up, ninety thousand li.

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