The Romantic Cultivator - Chapter 210 Prelude To The First Trial (2)

Hunted for the Alchemical Book in her hand - Mu Ruyue wakes up in the body of a wastrel in Shenwu Continent - a martial arts dominated world.Her fiancé has jilted her in favor of her foster sister.Her father condones her abuse.Her younger sister wishes she was never born.And the whole country ridicules and insults her for being a first-rate wastrel.Wastrel? Not at all. With the Alchemical Book in her hand, what pills and elixirs can't she refine?Jilted? She'd rather marry the pure and innocent Ghost King, Ye Wuchen.----Mu Ruyue: Stop calling me Sister!Ye Wuchen: Can I call you Wife then?Mu Ruyue: Not that either!Ye Wuchen: (about to cry)Mu Ruyue: (sighs) Suit yourself.Ye Wuchen then leans forward and kisses the corners of her lips.Mu Ruyue: …Did a child just steal her first kiss?----Brother 1: Let her go!Brother 2: She is my mother, why should I let go of her!Brother 1: Don't ever think of robbing my mother!Mu Ruyue: Let me introduce you, Jing'er, this is your younger brother. Huang'er, this is your elder brother.Huang'er: Mother, this stupid boy bullied me. He's not my brother.Jing'er: Little guy, from now on, you must listen to me.Ye Wuchen: (How exactly do these two regard him? They dare fight over his wife in front of him...)

Jiang Feng, a king returning from the Cultivation World, unexpectedly becomes the affluent son-in-law of a beautiful female CEO. Bringing with him memories from his past life and his talent for cultivation, he embarks on his carefree and legendary life.

Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

- Description from Novelupdates

[Mature Content] [Dark Themes]Catherine Lane had the perfect job in Midnight City, secretary to Ares King, the impenetrable billionaire bachelor, infamously known as the devil CEO.To the outside world, Catherine's life was nothing short of flawless, but in reality, she struggles with debts on the verge of ruining her life. To avoid harassment, she decides to quit and get the cut that comes with it.As if that wasn't enough, her long-term boyfriend cheated on her, claiming she's a wreck with no future, and he's better off without her.Heartbroken and devastated, Catherine is grasping at the last straws when her boss, Ares King, proposes a contract out of the blue.“Become my wife for one year.”“Why me, Mr. King?”“Because we work, Ms. Lane.”The last thing she wanted was to make a deal with the devil. But this offer is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.Sell your soul to the devil for one year. How hard can that be?*****“I think that's all...” My heart throbbed as I grabbed my pen. Here comes the hard part.“You're forgetting something, Ms Lane.”“Hmm?”“We haven't looked over the special clauses.”Special Clauses? Shit! I forgot about that.“The next page.”I flipped the paper.Number one: The wife should under no circumstances fall for the husband. Should the wife breach this clause, all compensation shall be nullified and revoked.“Unfortunately, changes can't be made to that clause.”I scoffed. Does he actually think I'd fall for him?“Understood. Emotional attachments should be prohibited.”“This, Ms. Lane, is why I said we work.”A/N: This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental.