Sholawat Asofa

A reincarnation. A forgotten empire. A second chance beneath a blood-red sky. --- “So… let me get this straight,” Baoyu leaned in, frowning. “You were a royal scholar in the Yuan Dynasty, got framed, died tragically, and then—what—woke up in a jungle palace somewhere in ancient Sunda?” Li Tianhe—well, *Ragaputra* now—half-smiled, toying with the pendant that pulsed faint blue light against his chest. “Technically, it was a forest temple. And I wasn’t just a scholar. I was a tactical advisor, thank you very much.” Baoyu blinked. “Bro, you were twenty and already wearing those weird black robes like you knew how the world worked.” “And now I wear bark-textured armor and argue with spirit tigers.” Tianhe sighed. “Funny how life… or death… works.” --- In a world where ancient China crossed paths with the secretive kingdom of Pajajaran, **fate weaves across dynasties**. *Li Tianhe*—once a disciplined, calm, and brilliant strategist of the Yuan court—meets his end not on the battlefield, but through betrayal, scapegoated for a crime soaked in imperial politics. He never saw it coming. Until he opened his eyes again, reborn beneath the canopy of tropical stars. Now he’s **Ragaputra Maheswara**, the illegitimate son of a vanishing concubine no one dares name, with fragments of ancient texts burned into his soul and a weapon of Sunda origin pulsing at his side. A kujang of blue flame. --- “Let me ask you this,” Tianhe said, staring at the stars with a rare softness in his voice. “If your second life begins in a land that speaks with its forests, writes in forgotten scripts, and remembers history through the bones of kings—do you try to live quietly?” Baoyu shrugged. “Not when your *first* life was a mess because you stayed quiet.” “Exactly.” --- But Pajajaran is not a peaceful kingdom. *It is a crossroad of worlds*: * Riddled with mystical **Wangsakerta manuscripts** * Guarded by the **ghosts of treaties with ancient China** * Haunted by the **mist-shrouded figure of Prabu Siliwangi**, the last king who vanished… but never truly left. And somewhere in those ruins, hidden between **rituals, rebellion, and royal secrets**, lies the truth behind the **Prasasti Langit**—the Sky Inscription—that binds Tianhe’s two lives together. --- So what’s the deal? The Yuan Dynasty thought they erased him. But in the deep woods of Sunda, the sky remembered. And Ragaputra? He’s not just surviving. He’s rewriting the game—one ancient prophecy, one ghost-pact, one flaming kujang at a time. Because this time… He remembers everything. --- *Think of it like Avatar: The Last Airbender meets Nirvana in Fire meets Nusantara’s hidden history—told through daily banter, mystical past lives, political chessboards, and the quiet weight of a boy caught between empires.* Ready to uncover what the sky never forgot?

In the realm of Nurghazira, where prayers drift like mist and mountains breathe ancient secrets, lived a boy with no name but a thousand destinies—Zayan. Raised in the shadow of ruins and old remedies by a blind healer known only as Master Faatir, Zayan never imagined the old man’s chants and clay bottles held more than herbs. But on the night the moon bled silver, the old master whispered his final breath and left behind a book—a living script written in light, sealed with the sighs of seven jinn. The Book of Breath and Bone. Its verses could only be read by a soul cleansed in silence and dawnlight. Its pages did not speak of war—but of wounds: physical, spiritual, and those too deep for any blade or balm. It was a manual of healing and harmony, of energy and equilibrium—meant to rebuild a shattered world, one heartbeat at a time. But peace is a forbidden art in a world built on control. From the Ashen Exorcists of the Eastern peaks, to the Gu Sorcerers of the Southern swamps, powers stir—hunters of sacred knowledge, chasers of divine fire. They come not for healing, but for the final seal: Afaaj, the crest of celestial dominion. Zayan must journey through ancient ruins veiled in jasmine mist, cross cities where potions are politics, and learn to wield techniques born not just from muscle or mind—but from soul memory. He will learn of the Sky Pulse, of Talismanic Breaths, of Eye Gurah and Spirit Points. He will walk the thin thread between healer and warrior—between savior and heretic. And above all, he must answer the whisper of the pages: “Are you the Healer of the End, or the End of all Healers?”

Beyond the Frozen ranges and through the Twin peaks of cruelty, the world of men ends. And this is where the Lord of destitute hibernate. His army of monsters, the destitute, consist of orcs, ogres, goblins and whatever cruel creature one could conjure. They come to the land of men, plunder, murder and take their women as playthings. They take their blood and feed it their lord – feeding him strength. On another part of Deimo, closer to the borders of Deino, lives a boy. He is not like the others around him, for his hair is blonde and his skin is pale. What's more, his father's hair is red and his mother's blue. His name – Osmond Ward. He didn't know nothing of the world, for he was merely seven. He didn't know he had the blood of the spirit of fire and water running through him. He didn't know that his family was banished, for his parents belonged to different castes; they followed different gods, and gods are selfish in their followers. But when the monsters came to his village, and when they killed his mother, he couldn't nothing but watch. His father died on that day, trying to help him escape. When he was taken in by his uncle, he had only thing in his mind; revenge. But for that, he need to see the world and learn. A world of Divine artifacts and chants. A world of elemental spirits and strange energies. A world of elves, the followers of light; dwarves, the followers of metal and rock; lizard men, the follower of sands, and demi-humans, the followers of lightning. A land of beasts and monsters. The land of Graeae, a land of beauty and nightmares. Additional tags: #dark #grimdark #darkfantasy #revenge #elves #dwarves #asofai #tolkien #gore #adult

bismillah

The book I ordered from a wide variety of biased eye views of the color of the world. The book is titled "PSYCHIC CONFRONTATION" which means mental warfare. The story is taken from the true story of an indigenous local boy who struggles to live with perfect health. If a weapons war could still be agile with a shield, would mental warfare be defeated only with foundation? Foundation of faith for example. Then if the focus of the enemy is mental which is a point where the body can stand firmly, is the enemy able to penetrate it with just an explosion carried by the heavenly wind? This book will give you the brightness, or also the chaos that arises from a disappointment. I hope anything will happen to you after reading it. You can still breathe in a much more extraordinary and more relieved way. Read every point, may all good things always accompany us. Don't forget the sholawat!