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Occasionally, she would envy those families with loving parents, occasionally, she would feel that children with parents are truly fortunate. But she has also witnessed families torn apart over petty gains, so she no longer envies.

Being free from attachments is quite nice, she has faced danger her entire life, and in death, she won’t need to worry about a final resting place or someone grieving for her. When she dies, her ashes will be scattered into the sea, free from any attachme ...

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struggle for dominance, where power rules above all.But you are no chosen hero. As the third son of a Viscount, you hold no influence—just another noble without purpose. Your knowledge of technology and strategy? Worthless here.Then, everything changes.The cards from your favorite strategy game—the very ones you built and mastered—are now real. No longer digital symbols, but an army you can summon at will. In this ruthless world, where the weak are crushed and the strong dictate fate, this power is your key to survival.You refuse to be a victim. Armed with an army beyond imagination, you will carve your own destiny. Not just to survive—but to conquer.“Soldiers, attack!”..........Note: If you have any questions or comments, feel free to share them!

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Every myth and legend is a path to Godhood!

When humans enter the interstellar era, ancient cultivation techniques shone with new life. Your genes exist with you! A single sentence showing the true meaning of cultivation. Myths and legends are not a fantasy, there are ancient mythological genes in the bodies of everyone.

The Hou Yi Gene allows you to shoot a hundred miles, using a single arrow to break down the dome of heaven.

The Kuafu Gene allows you to run with flying speed, chasing after the sun and moon.

The Divine Dragon Gene allows you to soar among the clouds, roaming around the starry space.

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He stalked towards her, chin low so the shadow cast by his hard jaw cut across the thick fur collar of his vest. His hair had fallen over his eyes in the scuffle, so he peered at her through it like a lion in the grass. With each step, his graceful, rolling gait reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. Despite the forest floor littered in twigs and leaves, he didn’t make a sound.

“Wh-who are you?” Elia stammered, backing away, her hands up. He met her step for step until she came up hard against the tree behind her—and didn’t stop until he loomed over her, so broad his shoulders and chest made a wall in front of her. She could feel the heat rising off his skin in the cool, night air.

“I am the Leonine King.” His voice was a dark, husky gravel. Behind him a chorus of wheezes, howls, and chirps of agreement rose from the people watching. “And you are?”

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