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All The Time In The World

Way of Heaven: Creating the Strongest World of Chaos of All Time!

What is it like to become the Heavenly Dao of a vast world? Qin Yu’s answer: It’s helplessness and despair! Under his command are a hundred thousand Da Luo Golden Immortals, billions of Golden Immortals, and Taiyi Golden Immortals, and an uncountable number of other beings. There are also invincible existences who repeatedly break the limits, surpassing the pinnacle of Da Luo Golden Immortal's Ninth Heaven and reaching the terrifying Twelfth Heaven, a thousand times stronger. With such a lineup, they should be invincible in the vast world, capable of suppressing all rebellion and sweeping through everything. But what brought the Heavenly Dao to despair was precisely these immensely powerful beings who transcend past and future, leaping out of the river of time. Traitors, all of them traitors! Actors, all of them actors! Every strong being betrayed the world that gave birth to and nurtured them! The Evergreen Immortal Realm no longer had a shred of hope. It could only wait to be drained of all its vitality and then despairingly fade into oblivion within the Sea of Chaos. Just as Qin Yu was preparing to give up... The cheat of being a transmigrator activated. Deep within his consciousness appeared the Gate of Creation, capable of channeling a Creation Aura equivalent to ten thousand times the world's original energy based on his strength. He didn’t use it to save the Evergreen Immortal Realm, filled with nothing but betrayal and ingrates. Instead, he started fresh, creating a unique and unparalleled world within the Sea of Chaos! With unstoppable momentum, he returned in strength, burying all the traitors...
I_am_not_done · 767 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 · 686.6K Views

Trapped in The Beast World

What the hell is this place?" The words escaped Leon's lips, but the sound of his voice—high-pitched and melodic—stopped him in his tracks. He blinked, looking down, and immediately froze. What... in the actual... hell? He was no longer himself. His once lean, athletic frame had been replaced by soft curves wrapped in a tight, scandalous red dress. His hands—delicate and manicured—trembled as they hovered in front of his face. Panic surged through him as his mind raced. "This... this isn't my body!" he exclaimed, clutching at the unfamiliar contours of his figure. The sound of his own voice—now distinctly feminine—sent another jolt of shock through him. Before he could process the impossibility of the situation, a guttural growl echoed behind him. Spinning around on unfamiliar high heels, he spotted a massive black jaguar stalking toward him. Its golden eyes locked onto him with a predatory gleam. Leon didn’t have time to think. Instinct took over as he yanked off the impossible heels and sprinted barefoot into the dense jungle. The ground was rough beneath his soft, uncalloused feet, and the dress clung uncomfortably to his body, restricting his movements. "I was just in class!" he muttered between gasps, weaving through the trees. "How did I end up here? And why the hell am I a woman?" Branches scraped against his exposed skin, adding to his growing sense of vulnerability. He had always been a confident, athletic guy in the real world—a star on the soccer field, the kind of person who could handle himself in any situation. But this? This was an entirely new kind of nightmare. As he pushed forward, his balance faltered. The foreign body he inhabited didn’t move the way he was used to, and it took all his focus to avoid tripping. "What is going on?" he cried out, frustration mixing with fear. Just as the jaguar’s growl grew louder, a sudden force struck him from the side, sending him tumbling into a cluster of bushes. A sharp "Oof!" escaped his lips as he hit the ground. "Shut up!" hissed a voice, low and urgent. Leon blinked, dazed, and found himself staring up at a man crouched over him. His face was rugged yet undeniably handsome, his sharp eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "Keep quiet if you want to live," the man muttered, glancing toward the direction of the jaguar’s growls. Leon’s breath hitched. Everything about this situation felt surreal—the jaguar, the jungle, the strange man, and most of all, the fact that he was no longer in his own body. The man grabbed his arm and pulled him upright. Leon winced as his newfound feminine frame swayed unsteadily. "Who... who are you?" Leon stammered, his voice trembling. "No time for questions," the man snapped. "If you don’t want to end up as jaguar food, follow me." Leon hesitated, his mind a storm of confusion. This has to be a dream, he thought desperately. But the sharp pain in his feet and the chill of the jungle air on his bare skin told him otherwise. Reluctantly, he followed the man deeper into the jungle, his heart pounding as the growls of the jaguar faded into the distance. His mind, however, was far from calm. How did this happen? Why am I here? And most importantly... how the hell do I get back to my own body?
C_J31 · 1.6K Views
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