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Books For First Grade Non

The Forsaken-Grade Cultivator

It’s 2100, and Vincent Carter – Ying – is a twenty-year-old virgin with a penchant for profanity, he has but three guiding principles: “In a world where honour and valour seem like unaffordable luxuries, cowardice remains the pragmatist’s ultimate virtue. Spinelessness isn’t shameful, it’s simply self-preservative romance.” “Doubt is unironically the cheapest superpower a person can have, after all if it’s human, it’s probably plotting something. And if it’s plotting something, it’s probably hiding something. And if it’s hiding something… well, you get the idea. So question everything, one sceptical step at a time.” And lastly, “Muscle heads – because who needs brains when you can just flex your way through life? Couldn’t be me, I’ll tell you that much.” Armed with nothing but these… questionable (?) values, as well as experiences shaped by a hellish life in the slums, Ying dives headfirst into the latest VR sensation – Cultivation Climax, a world brimming with great magic, ancient mysteries, and blood-curdling conspiracies just waiting to be unravelled. However, because Ying’s life is just that kind of special, he is greeted with a rather ‘lovely’ surprise upon opening his eyes to the new world… Ding! [Your misfortune is truly astounding!] [You have awakened the absolute WORST talent for Cultivation!] ‘…’ “…W-what?!” Yes, what indeed. https://www.royalroad.com/profile/633482/fictions. I'm the author.
A_literal_Sunfish · 20.4K Views

For Me, For Us, For Everyone

Cigarette smoke curls in the stagnant air, the dim glow of a dying bulb casting twisted shadows against the walls littered with half-torn articles and red-thread connections. Somewhere between the ink-stained papers and the scattered pills, a man sits—silent, unmoving, staring blankly at a stuffed monkey in a clown suit. A detective, they call him. A man of justice, a solver of mysteries. But behind the applause and empty praises, behind the sharp smiles and hollow congratulations, he is nothing but a walking contradiction—one hand holding a case file, the other exchanging cash for little plastic sachets. His mind is a labyrinth of voices, whispers that coil around his thoughts like suffocating vines. His brother grins at him from the corners of his vision, eyes glinting with the truth he refuses to face. His father’s voice is gentle, forgiving—too forgiving. Too much for a man who doesn’t deserve it. Each pill swallowed is another step into the illusion, another moment of stolen happiness before the weight of reality drags him under. He walks the city streets, drowning in faces that admire him, loathe him, see him as something he is not. He is both a hero and a villain, a detective and a criminal, a man trying to outrun the past while shackled to its corpse. And at the end of the night, when the echoes of the world fall away, all that remains is the darkness, the whispers, and the suffocating truth—he can never escape them.
Zeisn · 0 Views
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