Download Chereads APP
Chereads App StoreGoogle Play
Chereads

The Vampire Dies In No Time Manga

Burning Passion Love Never Dies

Mingshu was so addicted to a novel that she forgot to eat and sleep; she had taken to heart the plight of the villainous emperor within, whose fate was appallingly tragic! After angrily writing a thousand-word negative review, she woke up to find herself transmigrated into the book, becoming the freshly minted, unfortunate Noble Consort of the Tyrant. Confronted with the living and breathing emperor before her, Mingshu's mind was a whirlwind— Isn't this my kid? 〣( ºΔº )〣 In the eyes of everyone else, the emperor was bloodthirsty by nature, ruthless and cruel, a Living Yama whose very name sent shivers down spines! Through Mingshu's eyes, the emperor was: afraid of the dark, terrified of thunder, loved to act spoiled, lacked a sense of security, was inherently kind, and had a life-or-death need for sweets... What kind of supreme cutie is this?! Wahhh, baby, mama loves you!! In order to change her son's dreadful ending, Mingshu, overflowing with maternal love, transformed into a child-protecting demon! She brazenly confronted the Empress Dowager, furiously scolded court officials, and fought imperial consorts with her bare hands... But wait, why were the kid's glances at her becoming more and more peculiar? —— As a child, Si Chu always dreamt of a young girl who taught him to read and write with patience, tended to his wounds with care, and gently soothed him to sleep on every stormy night. Then one day, the girl disappeared. He searched high and low but couldn't find her. So, obsession turned into a demon, his eyes blood-red and crazed, he went mad. Just when he lamented the world's boredom and contemplated destroying everything, He came across a pair of bright, sparkling, talking eyes. With a gloomy and obsessive look, the emperor's lips curled into a cold smile: Fine, you've come to me of your own volition. —— Everyone knew: The emperor detested beautiful, delicate, and arrogant women most of all. No one knew how long the dainty Noble Consort would last. * When you visit this world, remember to take a look at the sun.
Cloudy · 221.7K Views

Cameraman Never Dies

In the greed-filled world of corporate empires and magic knights, Min Jae was a king in business, with pockets so deep he could drown in 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!
CloudCatcher · 189.3K Views

To Sleep In The Sea Of Time

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling
man_of_culture3030 · 692.3K Views
Related Topics
More