Post-Mythical Era: I don't want to die in the third reincarnation - Chapter 36 - 34 Crazy Parents

Ethan Smith walked down the empty street, cigarette in mouth, shaking his head and forcing a bitter smile. Who could have imagined that after three years of marriage, all that remained was betrayal?

He vowed to make that woman regret what she had done and promised to make everyone who had been good to him live a good life.

Yes, it was Emily Taylor, the woman who had helped him out of the abyss of despair when he hit the lowest point in his lifetime.

“Emily, it's time for me to take care of you.”

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(A fierce and adorable female lead VS an obsessive and sinister male lead, sweet doting + metaphysics + slight fantasy)

Jiang Xiaoxiao, the great master of the Mystic Sect, was born with an incomplete soul. Every full moon night, she would also turn into a tiny three-inch tall person.

The Grand Master said that in the sixteenth year of her life, she would meet a nobleman. The purple gold dragon aura on the nobleman’s body could lift her curse.

Xie Xun, the King of Chu, had his dragon aura taken away at the age of three. Plagued by bad luck, he was exiled from the capital.

The first time he met his adorable wife, his adorable wife shrank with a swoosh in front of him into a tiny three-inch being, standing in his palm dozing off.

Later, the King of Chu sewed a small pouch on the sleeve of each garment. When going out, he would put his adorable wife in the pouch.

And he told others, “My little one is weak, pitiful, and helpless.”

The little ghost shivered in fear: Have you seen someone using a kitchen knife to hack ghosts at a mass grave? Yes, it’s your weak, pitiful and helpless Queen!

The ghosts wailed at the mass grave: Have you seen a living person who could scare the ghosts to tears? Yes, it’s still your weak, pitiful and helpless Queen!

The entire netherworld exploded: Have you seen a newly wedded bride escorted by two Ghost Emperors and two Ghost Kings? Yes, it’s still your weak, pitiful and helpless Queen!

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?

A muffled murmur sounded softly,

Crazy goblins ravage the village,

Mutated beasts roam the fields,

The ancient old gods are gradually awakening,

Just when the darkness is about to engulf the entire continent,

A brave man from another world quietly appeared,

This may be the darkest hour before dawn.

Human: “The savior has come?”

Monster: “Have new food arrived?”

Till the fame of the brave spread far and wide,

Walking through every corner of the continent,

He/she/they know,

What is the real darkest hour.

The monsters and humans said in unison:

“I beg you to be human, the ancient gods were so scared that they went back to sleep.”

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