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... to be so many cultivators in Jianghang City. I almost didn’t escape,” he said, looking at Hu Qianzao on the ground with a hint of excitement in his eyes.

“Ye Xuan, what did you do to me—!!!” Hu Qianzao’s pain had eased somewhat by now, but her forehead was covered in cold sweat, her face pale from the agony, devoid of any color.

Her current appearance evoked pity.

However, looking at Hu Qianzao, Ye Xuan showed no mercy. Instead, he wore a disdainful expression. “Nothing m ...

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15 years ago, his elder brother was killed right in front of him in the middle of the night – killed by their most trusted driver. Since then, Stefan had a hard time sleeping and often got nightmares. He learned not to trust anyone.

Cayenne worked almost all day and all night. She only got three hours of sleep every day. She was the breadwinner of their family since her mother was diagnosed with tuberculosis. She thought she would have a great time working as a receptionist in a hotel.

Until…

“I’ll pay you an additional $3000 a month. Sleep with me.” Stefan placed a signed check on the table in front of her.

Her head was spinning at the large sum of money. She can finally buy her mother’s medication and send her brothers to school without worry. But to sleep with him?

“I’m sorry if I come off rude but, I can’t sleep with you sir.” She tried to refuse politely, afraid that she will lose her job if he felt displease towards her.

Stefan took off his coat and placed on the backrest of his chair. “Think about my offer carefully. It wasn’t so bad sleeping with you after all.”

It was a mistake she made on her part when she fell asleep right beside him on his bed, drunk and dizzy.

Will he make the mistake of trusting someone again? Will he entrust his life to her by sleeping soundly beside her? How will they face each other when they started to unveil the mystery of their identities?

MTL - Forty Millenniums of Cultivation~ The enemy of Tekken (eighty-eight) voyage (end)
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“Even if this universe is truly nothing more than a brutal bloody shadowy forest, we Cultivators will burn all that we have just to give off a single weak flickering spark in the darkness!

No matter how weak each spark is, how short-lived, how small… As long as the sparks flow unabated, then one day one of those sparks will light some tinder, and that tinder shall light some fallen branches, and those branches shall set ablaze each and every last tree of the forest!

In the end, even the smallest sparks will eventually set the shadowy forest ablaze, and illuminate the whole world!”

In a world teeming with cultivators, Li Yao, who makes his living collecting scrap metal, encounters the soul of a titan powerhouse from forty thousand years in the past.

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If you can reincarnate or transmigrate into a cultivation novel world and you have a choice, would you be a protagonist, an antagonist, a side character, or a mob character?

And what would you do if you are aware that you’re a character in a cultivation novel?

Mao Miaomiao, a 60-year-old retired professional MMA fighter got transmigrated into a mysterious cultivation world with modern technologies. He found himself in his youthful body, and he got a system as a bonus.

Cliche, right?

[You have received new quests]
[Kill a native protagonist.]
[Kill a reincarnated protagonist.]
[Kill a transmigrated protagonist.]
[Kill a regressed protagonist.]
[Kill a time-traveled protagonist.]
[Kill a resurrected protagonist.]
[Failure Penalty: Death.]From a mob character to a villain mob, from a villain mob to a villain boss, from a villain boss to a secret character, the system forced Mao Miaomiao to evolve… and hunt every protagonist in this world.

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Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

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