Unrivaled Tang Sect - Chapter 591.2: The Ice-Spirit Douluo Descends

Han-Yeol worked as a Porter, and one day experienced an unforgettable awakening, turning into a Hunter!

But… What?

He had to hunt monsters to level up, and could only gain skills by repeating actions?

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Naoki, unexpectedly finds himself transmigrated into the vibrant Pokémon world. Inheriting a charming, yet modest ranch, he dreams of a tranquil life surrounded by adorable and fluffy Pokémon. Despite the challenges, Naoki's heart is set on crafting a life filled with simple joys and magical meals that bring him and his Pokémon closer together.Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the cover image. If you are the rightful owner and would like it removed, I will take it down promptly.

I had thought that my life couldn’t get worse when I walked in on my fiancé cheating on me with my best friend. But after a series of unfortunate events, I opened my eyes in a world that I had only read about in a webnovel, the Erudian Empire, ruled under the domineering, bloody reign of Emperor Helio.

The worst part?

I’m not even the main character! Reborn as Winter Royberg de la Erudian, I am the pitiful side character who is discovered to be a royal bastard princess due to a certain physical trait only the imperial bloodline possesses. But I know the end of Winter’s story and the unwanted royal punching bag is framed as a witch and killed at age 16 on the guillotine due to the scheming of the cruel empress.

An aloof, murder happy father? Check.

Psycho half-sister? Check.

Meddlesome author who wants me to follow the script? Double check!

I don’t want to die an early death again, so I’m determined not to ever be discovered as a royal again. But before I know it, I’m trapped in a palace of blood and opulence playing tricky games of power, games I have no clue how to win. How will I survive to adulthood in the imperial palace and get my happily ever after? And am I really the only person who fell into this world?

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.