The Transmigrator’s Cultivation - Chapter 223 - Arc 13: Wild Beast Plains | : Pounce

them. That is, until his life deemed his playthrough unfair and gave him a red card. Poison was his family's best friend, as everyone had at least tasted it once, not twice because they never could.Death was never on his calendar, neither was an offer for a divine gig. Enter the Deity of Stories, a celestial being with a fetish for plot twists, who offers Min Jae a deal he can't refuse: become her divine cameraman.No, not the kind with a lens, but one who records the tales of mortals. In return, he gets a second shot at life, in a world where his dearly departed parents are alive and well, ready to dote on him from birth.Reborn as Judge (because “Min Jae 2.0” sounded too dull), he quickly realizes this new life is no gift. This steampunk utopia, filled with airships, clockwork gadgets, and an alarming lack of Wi-Fi, thrives on manipulation. But who needs the internet when you have a divine camera and the sharp mind to control it all?Judge isn’t just here to record stories; he’s here to write them, casting himself as the mastermind behind every twist and turn. Armed with his divine powers, he navigates complex schemes, power-hungry nobles, and ruthless industrialists, all while keeping his ultimate goal hidden: to ascend to godhood and rewrite his own fate.Of course, he generally makes a glorious mess of things, all while trying to keep his dear parents blissfully unaware of his less-than-angelic schemes. But as the stakes rise and the Deity of Stories watches his every move, Judge must tread carefully. Can he manipulate his way to the top, or will he become just another character in someone else’s plot twist?---Just a quick disclaimer: The book steers clear of any unwanted adult stuff. However, it does feature a potentially disturbing amount of violence—enough to make you wonder about the author's mental health.So proceed with caution—and maybe a shield!

A phoenix is a creature of legends, a wonder of the world, an imagery of life and destruction. This fabled creature signifies the rise of a hero in a virtual world where battles occur for the sake of honor and glory!

“No one likes us, it doesn't matter!”“It doesn't matter if everyone likes us!”Aldridge, possessed by time and space, never imagined that one day he would become the boss of the notorious Millwall in England.The Edwards family gave Ferguson seven years to finally recreate the dynasty of the Busby Boys.After Graham's glory, the arsenal was looking for the next Chapman. The professor who was fired for the first time left for Japan, always waiting for the call from Europe.Liverpool, which has won the Champions League four times in seven years, still lives in the shadow of Manchester United.White Hart Lane is gradually becoming ordinary, Stamford Bridge is dimly blue, Jin Yuan's violent Ben challenges the throne, Keegan trains the gorgeous magpie to soar to the sky!In the summer of 1994, the Millwall Youth Army, led by young coach Aldridge, was about to rewrite the history of a hundred years without a championship.That dark blue of a mad lion is determined to sweep Europe...

You’d think seeing the future would give me a head start on surviving the apocalypse. I had it all planned—until everything I knew shattered when my husband sacrificed himself to save me and our son. Now it’s just me, my three-year-old son Leo, and my cursed gift of foresight that only seems to kick in when it’s nearly too late.I’m doing my best to keep us safe, to find food, to make some kind of plan—“Mommy?”I glance down, trying to ignore the tug on my pant leg as I focus on our supplies. “Not now, Leo. Mommy’s thinking.”“Mommy!”I sigh and finally look down. My three-year-old is standing there, clutching… I blink. “Leo, where did you get a knife?”He shrugs, grinning like it’s the most natural thing in the world.My heart stutters. “No, really. Where did you find that?”I try not to laugh. I mean, he’s three. Maybe he just—found it somewhere? But the next day, it’s a water bottle. Then, a tiny flashlight, somehow with batteries still inside.I don’t even know what else; he’s pulling things out one by one with the pleased grin of a kid who’s just figured out his favorite game.Well, we may just survive this mess after all.Now, if only the universe could have spared me from him. I don’t even know his name, but I know his type: tall, broad, and annoyingly handsome, with an air of calm control that’s out of place in this chaos. Ex-military, if I had to guess, with a voice that’s just as infuriating as his smirk. The man has a habit of showing up at the worst—or best—possible times, with a gun at the ready and secrets buried as deep as those bright green eyes.I mean, he’s probably useful, but I’m trying to keep my eyes on the prize here: survival.For Leo and me.Because, foresight or no foresight, nothing is guaranteed in this new world—except the fact that people like him are trouble.