Bled Dry

【Exhilarating】【New Ultimate Path Plus Points】【Dry Humor】 The world plummets; who shall uphold the heavens? Demons spawn from earth and sky, the Taoist stands valiant and resolute. I am Yi Chen, 'Chen' as in dust, styled Yi Chengzi, eighteen years old, fearful of violent evil spirits, fond of making money. With a cold heart and ruthless hands, he transmigrated to a bizarre world where goblins and malevolent spirits dwell, becoming the eldest senior brother of the Hidden Dragon Pavilion, and as his master lay dying, he entrusted Yi Chengzi with the duty to uphold the path of benevolence and righteousness, to take good care of his younger Taoist brothers; he promised he would. However, his understanding of the path of benevolence and righteousness differed slightly from that of his master. What is benevolence? Slicing evil men and ghosts in half is benevolence. What is righteousness? Smashing the heads of evil men and ghosts into their chests completes righteousness. After his master's death, unable to awaken 'spiritual essence' for cultivation, he set upon an unorthodox path of cultivation with the help of the Golden Finger. Facing the wolves eager for a fight after his master's demise, he struck with heavy fists, understanding the true essence of righteousness. Confronting the malevolent spirits that stood in his way, he naturally reformed them with the iron fists of love. He slew demons, exorcised evil, and tested his sword against various spiritual cultivators, enjoying the landscapes of the world. When he reached the summit and looked around, he was shocked to find that demons were but minor afflictions and that this land and sky were falling... A millennium-long scheme, an eternal enigma, slowly unveiled itself. Strange, it has arrived, and it does not die or perish. Witnessing this scene, Yi Chen laughed. Even the malevolent dogs passing by his Taoist abode had to endure a couple of slaps; how dare someone be so disrespectful to him? Yi Taoist stomped one foot and soared into the heavens! The onlookers exclaimed in shock, "Taoist, stop fighting, the great 'Dao' is nearly worn away!"

The Silverston Empire teeters on the edge of ruin. A foolish emperor and his reckless sons cling to power, while the nobility, consumed by greed and ambition, bleed the empire dry. The people live in crushing poverty, women are silenced by systemic oppression, and magic—once a source of wonder—has been branded as sin. The ancient dragons, symbols of balance and strength, are no more, leaving the land vulnerable and fractured. All hope rests on the Alcons, a forgotten bastion of power. Its guardians? Six princesses, dismissed as spoiled and unfit for anything beyond luxury. But beneath the silks and jewels lie secrets and strengths even they do not fully understand. In a world spiraling into darkness, can these unlikely heroines rise to reclaim their empire and restore the balance?

Heat, drought, the desert everywhere exuding the smell of death. Under the eerie sunlight, a nearly dried-up puddle suddenly trembled violently, as if something was about to emerge, but in the end, it only released a string of bubbles. "What’s this? I’ve transmigrated!” “I’ve turned into a lake? No—a puddle!” “A puddle in the desert, about to dry up!” Oh……No……!

The cruelest part of time is that it never waits for anyone—but somehow, Johnathan Liang hadn’t changed at all. Same sharp gaze, same unreadable expression. Same man who once shattered me without a second thought. I met his eyes, and for a moment, I wondered if he saw it—the wreckage he left behind, the girl who once begged for his love. But that girl was long gone. So, I smiled. Easy, effortless, like I had never bled for him. I watched his jaw tighten, his fingers curl ever so slightly. He sensed it, didn’t he? The lie beneath my calm. The forgiveness that wasn’t real. Because I had moved on. I had won. So, why did seeing him still feel like losing? ---- I knew she’d changed the second I laid eyes on her—because for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I hated her or wanted to know what had made her so untouchable. One thing was certain, I had not chosen her in the past, I would not want to. Elena Zhao was no longer the reckless, desperate girl who once threw herself at my feet, blind to the fact that I would never choose her. In-fact she was calm and poised--too calm and too poised that it irritated me. I would have been a fool to neglect the resent that lingered beneath her stare despite her small smile. Love was not something that made sense to me anymore, especially after what I had lost. There was no reason for her or anyone else to get under my skin. But she bugged me, like an itch creeping my skin. (SPICY, DARK, ROMANTIC, INTENSE, TENSION GUARANTEED, CHEMISTRY, POWERCOUPLE) ************ [NO CLICHES & NO LONG BORING CHAPTERS GUARANTEED] Rewritten completely by me in 2025 march! I started in 2020 so, makes sense if the story isn't as thrilling. I have tried not to take away the original Idea. Good luck and have a great read. Your author- Prabhleen/Theunknownsoul

With his eyes closed and opened again, Elias Carver found himself a miner in the depths beneath the Iron Overseers’ stronghold. Armed with a proficiency panel that could hone any skill known to the world, he carved his path through the twilight of the Valorian Empire—an age where warlords clashed for dominion and dark creatures stirred in the shadows.From the “Bronze Forged Frame” that tempered his body through the relentless strikes of mining, to the “Adamantine Bastion Scripture” that rendered him unbreakable; From the “Stormswift Stride” that granted him speed like the wind, to the “Phantom Glimmer” that let him dance through the air; From the “Lion’s Roar Barrage” that unleashed volleys of force from his voice, to the “Solar Raven Ascendancy” that scorched peaks and boiled rivers dry!He rose from the ashes of obscurity, his momentum unstoppable, until at last he stood peerless, gazing back on his journey. “At long last, I beheld the sun cleave the boundless heavens, and the pure river ripple under the wind for a thousand leagues.”

HEED MY ADVICE, TO ALL WHO WILL LISTEN, THE FURY OF A WOMAN WHO LIVES ON REVENGE, EVEN IN THE FACE OF DEATH, IS A RECKONING THAT SPARES NO ONE. The Dukedom Heiress Luella Van-Rensselaer thought that by doing everything her family needed, she would have the beautiful and loving family she had always wanted. However, she ends up getting betrayed by her own twin sister and her fiancé. Having gotten fed up with her family and how badly they had put her through, Luella wishes for death, which her sister gives to her as she ends up dying in the hands of her sister and fiancé. Finally, finding the peace she had always wanted, she wakes up to when she was eighteen (18) years old as the funeral service of her father. And now filled with nothing but rage and memories of her past, she now aims to destroy the entire dukedom with its name. The Van-Rensselaer dukedom will end WITH her and BY her. ~+~ A MAN WHO LOVES HIS WOMAN WITH NO POWER OR WEALTH IS NOTHING BUT A DREAMER; BUT A MAN WHO LOVES HIS WOMAN WITH POWER AND WEALTH IS A PROTECTOR, WORTHY TO BE BY HER SIDE. And that was what Grand Duke Ozed Rhinelander was. A man who went to war for his woman, accumulated wealth for his woman, lives for his woman. And he would kill for his woman. When Luella decides to take revenge on her family, she goes to one person she fully trusts. ~+~ ~Fragment~ "Do you want this?" His voice was low, almost a growl, but there was a hint of something else beneath — something that made her heart skip a beat. She swallowed hard, her throat dry. The question hung in the air between them, heavy and tangible. "I… I don't know," She finally answered, her voice barely above a whisper. His lips curled into a smirk, a slow, dangerous smile that sent shivers down her spine. "Liar" he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through her. "You want this. You want me." She opened her mouth to protest, to deny it, but he didn't give her a chance. His hand shot out, gripping her chin roughly, forcing her to look up at him. "Do you want me to prove it?" He asked, his voice dripping with challenge. ~+~ Tags: #Revenge #Strongfemalelead, #norape, #reincarnation, #Fakeidentity, #EdwardianEra, #VampireRomance #Smut #Supernaturalpowers #magic #darkfantasy #long-distance pining (The main characters are aware of each other's feelings but can't be physically be together yet. IN THE BEGINNING CHAPTERS). ~+~ Cover is mine. DO NOT USE ____ @AR

“Great Saint, why did you follow that thieving baldy to rob the sacred mountain?” “Ah, it’s a long story. Back then, that thieving baldy grabbed my neck and asked me, ‘Are you coming with me to the Western Heaven, or should I send you to the Western Heaven...’” “What about you, Marshal Tianpeng?” “He said he was afraid of getting hungry on the way to the West, so he brought some dry rations along.” “...” This is a story filled with joy, scheming, and relentless teasing all the way through.

His lips hovered near her ear, his voice a dark whisper against her skin. "You may fear me, little bride, but I will teach your body to crave me… to need me, until I am all you ever want." --- Belle was never meant to be the bride. But when her parents cried to her about how her beautiful sister could not be married to such a man, she was forced to take her sister’s place. To prevent war between the two worlds of humans and vampires, the kings decided to sign a peace treaty with a marriage, but the only man they could offer for this marriage was a vampire said to be mad and completely heartless. When they said heartless, they meant really heartless, but Belle, being a naive girl her whole life, had no idea what she was stepping into by agreeing to this marriage. At first, he appeared innocent, a man completely opposite to all the rumors around him, until she slowly began to realize every single thing said about the mad vampire was true, or perhaps even worse! He was a man who walked in the path of darkness. He knew no light and showed no mercy, even to those who were not his enemies. He had no heart to love, no emotions but dark ones to feel for anything or anyone. But all of a sudden, when he set his eyes on her, he decided he wanted to keep her, and Belle's naive world began to take a different turn because the mad vampire was hellbent on tainting her innocent soul. Expect "Now, can we forget this happened and enjoy the night?" He arched an amused brow at her, making Belle's heart drop to her stomach as she recalled the so-called wedding night. She hurriedly pulled away from him, her face flaming with embarrassment. From everything she had heard about this night, she was not ready to experience it with this man. The women whispering about it in Mr. Marchant's shop had said one would hate their husband's presence after it and be disgusted by the act. It was not an act meant for pleasure for any woman but torture. Now that she realized her husband would do the same with her, she swallowed hard and nervously clutched her dress. "I...I am not feeling well, My Lord, I—" "Rohan," he cut her off with a tone of amusement. "Use my name when you address me, sweetheart. You looked quite energetic when you tried to go after the ring for someone who isn't feeling well, but," he sighed softly, "I've always been a generous man. I won't let you stress yourself tonight." Belle began to sigh in relief and smile in her mind that he wouldn't push her for the wedding night ceremony. She was even about to part her lips and agree that he was indeed generous and even offer him a thank you when he continued to speak, causing the momentary relief to be replaced by dread. "I will pamper you tonight, and you won’t have to lift a hand. I will give you all the pleasure since you are feeling unwell. Take it as the first lesson in my plan to make you forget love and welcome lust." "...!" "Lie on the bed for me, Isa." Belle felt her throat go dry at that strict command. "I...I..." She began but could not find any words to say to make him spare her tonight. What had she got herself into? Belle thought as a pit seemed to form in her stomach, a deep, gnawing dread. "Do you need me to carry you to the bed, or would you rather walk there yourself?" Rohan questioned with dark mirth in his voice and eyes as he watched her like a hawk. He could tell she was nervous, but what to do? She had brought herself into his world. Belle began to walk slowly to the bed at a snail’s pace, as if delaying it would help prevent the dreadful act from happening tonight. She could feel him following closely behind her. When she reached the bed, she used her shaky hands to move the drapes aside and carefully sat at the edge of it, her hands folded nervously on her lap. She felt his piercing gaze on her, but she dared not look up at him. "Lie down," he ordered softly. MATURE CONTENT, NO RAPE!!

Yang Qing sighed as he gazed upon the black building that stood tall piercing the skies above with an inviolable aura around it. "The Order sure is black-hearted," he angrily thought as he made his way into the building begrudgingly. The building could be considered his home away from home and a source of endless grief for him due to its unforgiving working hours. The building housed the courtrooms of the Cultivation Order Society, an organization founded to maintain a semblance of order in the ruthless cultivation world of the southern continent who if left to their own devices would sink the whole continent to the ground. Due to how impetuous cultivators were, the cases never stopped. "Yi Jie, what do we have today?" "Two cultivators at the palace realm fought over a treasure and destroyed half of the territory of the blue deer kingdom in their fight, A rogue cultivator is suing the owner of the falling meteor blacksmith shop for selling him a faulty saber that keeps attracting lightning tribulations. A cultivator suffering from pill poisoning is blaming it on the white hilltop restaurant as he suspects they are feeding their spirit beasts pills to make them bigger and fatter. And the last case is 500 families are suing a cultivator by the name of Ren Fu for being negligent as a husband and a father whilst also pilfering their resources dry as he moves from place to place.," Awkward silence ensues........... Join me as we follow Yang Qing in his role as a judge in the Cultivation Order Society with cases and troubles that never seem to end. Fair warning the story has multiple POVs. Re-edited chapter (50/50) Second milestone (65/150) All support matters whether it's power stones, comments, reviews, golden tickets, subscriptions, or those who buy privilege chapters or even lurking readers..I welcome all your support in whatever format it comes in and I thank you for it, It really does mean a lot, especially to rookie authors like myself.

A lot seemed off about him, his hair color had changed from the usual dark brown to white. It was really confusing, early at school his hair was dark brown, so what happened between the few minutes they were apart. "Dean",Audrey hurried towards him but he raised his left hand up to stop her in her tracks. "Don't come any closer", he whispered underneath his breath, with all that his gaze was on the ground "But-", Audrey tried stepping forward. "Don't", he said raising his head to look at her directly,she could see his face clearly now. At school his iris held a little bit of color but right now,it had non. His eyes were so clear he looked blind. "Dean what's happening to you",Audrey cried in panic. She didn't know what was going on with Dean, what hurt her the most was he didn't want her next to him. How can she help him if she can't get close, but even with that she was still stubborn. Dean was at the far end of his room, bit by bit Audrey covered the gap."It's Time",Dean said trying to play down his emotion, but it could'nt be hidden. "What is Time?", Audrey asked confused walking to him slowly. "Dean you're scaring me". As she tried walking towards him, she felt as tho she was being pushed back, the closer the distance between them,the harder it was for her to come close. "Time for me to go-ah",Dean groan holding his side. “Dean!”, Audrey exclaimed, she increased her pace but the force was strong and the injury she had under her feet didn't make it any better. "He has come", he said letting out a dry cough. "Who has come?",Audrey asked. What is time?who has come?, she asked herself. "Mortem", Dean said with short of breath. . Life has never been good to Audrey, after loosing her parents at a tender age. she works extra and hard to make ends meet, she made a friend. Not long after he to was taken. luck hasn't always been on her side, will she pick herself up and keep pushing, or will she succumb to the bad luck holding her down. note: The cover isn't mine,it was gotten from Pinterest. so I give credit to the artist. Disclaimer: everything written here is based on pure imagination The schools, characters and places are not real

In the ethereal lands of Elnervale, where the winds had gone twisted through the woodland, Milena Ferlin lives a quiet and graceful life at the farm with her humbling Grand Aunt Dawn, and her curious little cousin Alena. The farm nestled by a short distance from the palace, providing food and supplies for the towering Duke Laurus de Vanstein -a man who values respect, perfection and equality. Milena's days are spent caring for the crops, devouring pages, caring for her little cousin Alena, and visiting the orphanage once a week. Life may be simple yet it was beautiful for Milena. Then the crisis suddenly went crawling in at the Ferlin Farm. Meat suddenly went dry, crops had withered, slowly decaying the farm faster than nature should allow. Until then, the duke himself sets foot in their farm to take care of the crisis -when suddenly he is fascinated by the captivating beauty of Milena which will soon become an obsession of the great duke. Then on, Milena slowly becomes closer to the palace due to the duke's commands, but in return - dark truths starts unravel making Milena confused to whether claim justice or to run away from the web of the duke's manipulation. This stories tells about a conflict of possession and genuine feelings whilst fighting for retribution of Elnervale's Legacy.

Rae Yushiguro was supposed to be dead. Killed by a bully, his body bled out on the cold pavement, the weight of his past mistakes crashing down upon him. But instead of oblivion, he awakens—weak, helpless, and unable to move. The terrifying realization soon sets in: he's been reborn as a baby. His new name is Kai Valehart, the son of a well respected family in a world far different from his own. A world where ancient kingdoms clash, arcane forces shape destiny, and powerful beings watch from the shadows. But this isn't just another world—it's one teetering on the brink of catastrophe. A Collision is coming, a cataclysm that could unravel reality itself, and Rae finds himself at the heart of it all. Trapped in the fragile body of an infant yet retaining his memories, Rae must navigate this unfamiliar world while piecing together the mystery of his reincarnation. Why was he given a second chance? Who—or what—pulled him into this world? And most importantly, can he escape the cruel fate that awaits him? As the secrets of his past and present intertwine, Rae will uncover a truth far beyond anything he could have imagined. His death was no accident. His rebirth was no coincidence. And the Collision is only the beginning.

"Sorcerer Elite" follows Kai'len Imperia, in a world where medieval warfare collides with WW2-era sorcery, aspects, and supernatural forces. Tragedy looms in every corner, the enemy murmurs doubts into the faithful questioning what they believe in, is their faith that fragile? Do you believe everything you see, hear, and read? This is a tale of burning sacred texts, unspeakable horrors, and foreboding prophecies. When the unknown strikes, and mana runs dry, sometimes all that’s left is an old shotgun, a rusty knife and sheer will. Step into the world of Eschalon and follow Kai'len’s harrowing path to becoming a "Vereigh Vower"—the Bounded Ruler's Vow.

While some walk a path lain with roses, laughter and humility, others tread a path of control, power and authority. The duality of worlds has blended seamlessly, the pen is no longer mightier than the sword but has become bloodier. Cordelia was destined to tread a path of power, knowledge, trust and bond but as mother fate is cruel her path was filled with thorned roses that pricked and bled her with each step. Seeing her kingdom reduced to meagre ashes and the people she cared for left as corpses she was left beyond broken. As her feelings faded from her finger tips she closed her eyes only to open them in a place that was familiar but...different. Her past is not as she remembers, her home has become uncharted grounds and the people... are no longer people.

James was a hustler who'd succeeded in retiring early, only for the pandemic to ruin all of his plans. He spent two years locked up inside playing video games and watching movies, only to be spiritually abducted just as the situation started improving. Now his name is Jin and he's a part of the Illusion Room Sect. A cultivation sect that creates scenarios for combat-focused cultivators to hone their skills. In other words, fully immersive video games. Will the gaming knowledge of his past life help him succeed in such a cut-throat world? Will he manage to break his two-year pandemic induced dry-spell? And most importantly, will he ever manage to surpass the rank of cannon fodder?

The world ended for Caelith the moment he returned to the camp, only to find it in ruins-his people slaughtered, their bodies torn apart like ragdolls. Among the countless corpses, one was missing: Jerry, the only person he truly called family. Plagued by dreams of a war he never fought, of a name that doesn't belong to him, and of a voice in his head that whispers of a destiny he doesn't understand, Caelith is thrust into a terrifying reality-one where gods have fallen, the heavens have bled, and something inhuman walks among them. The massacre was only the beginning. As he follows the cryptic command to head north, Caelith begins unraveling the truth of who he really is-and who Jerry might have been. The more he remembers, the more the world around him warps into something unfamiliar, something dangerous. Because the war that once tore the celestial throne apart never truly ended. And this time, the gods are not the only ones who will bleed.

Ten thousand years ago, the sky shattered, the earth bled, and reality screamed. Gods and awakeners clashed against horrors that should not exist......things that twisted minds, devoured souls, and laughed at the concept of death. The world did not win. It survived. The Veil Barrier was forged, sealing away the nightmares at an unfathomable cost. Time passed. The world forgot. But the barrier is rotting. Cracks spread. Whispers crawl. Monsters pour through, dragging something far worse behind them. And in the midst of it all, something else stirs. Not a hero. Not a villain. Not a god. A being that should not exist. One even the horrors feared. The world thinks it won the war. It was wrong.

[ Caution: High Heat Advisory ] “Harper, stop undressing me with your eyes. The plot isn’t going that way… YET.” Harper McKenzie, a newbie web novel author, has a problem — she struggles with romance scenes. As someone with almost nonexistent real-life experience in the matter, she can’t get the intimate chemistry right, and those chapters always come out dry and cringy. Fortunately for her, Harper finds a freelance editor willing to workshop her writing. But the surprise? That editor turns out to be her childhood friend and the very first crush of her life. What happens now when he offers her personal lessons on how to write the hottest romance … and love scenes? -------------- Note: this is a fun, cozy, sweet story with a low-drama plot. No love triangles, no misunderstandings, no memory loss / car accidents / terminal illnesses / etc.. Mature content abounds, starting out soft but heats up quickly. You’ve been warned! -------------- Sneak Peek: He slid her bra over her shoulders and, with impossibly quick and skilled work, tied the lacy garment around her wrists. “Spread your legs wider,” he ordered. Harper’s already faltering heartbeat faltered some more. The command in his tone was foreign, but it crashed over her like a heat wave, and even though she could barely begin to picture how salacious she must look, with her hands bound and thighs spread wide like an offering to be ravished, she could feel the scorching need coiling hotter and hotter in her core. Her body obeyed eagerly on its own accord, bringing herself fully open just like she was told. Eli grinned. Moving between her legs, he trailed hot kisses along her inner thigh, leaving sizzling little fires crackling in its wake. “Good girl. Now, what should your character say next?” A finger glided over her wet and wanting flesh in a slippery stroke, making her heart slam to a hard stop as a moan tore free. “Write the next line for me, what should I say before I unravel you with my tongue and make you scream my name?”

It did not matter who you were. A noble’s blood, a scholar’s wisdom, a merchant’s wealth—none of it meant a damn thing inside the dungeons. Once you stepped beyond those gates, past the threshold where light faded and the unknown swallowed all, there was only one truth that mattered. The strong ruled. The weak perished. It did not matter if you were a prince or a beggar, a decorated warrior or a nameless fool. The dungeon did not care. It did not discriminate. It only tested, again and again, until your bones lay among the countless others who had thought themselves worthy. For most, dungeon diving was not a choice—it was survival. In this city of towering walls and endless ambition, men and women bled for the chance to carve their names into history. They fought for coin, for glory, for the slim chance of rising above their station. They fought because, in Dragnir, power was the only thing that truly mattered. Some dove for wealth, their eyes glimmering with the promise of fortune buried in the depths. Others sought fame, desperate for their names to be whispered in awe, their deeds recorded in legend. And then there were those who fought for power—not for riches, not for glory, but for strength itself. Because in the end, power was the only thing that meant anything. And so, they fought. Again and again, against monsters that never died, in dungeons that never emptied. They struggled, they endured, they bled, and still, the dungeons called for more. For some, the call was a curse. For others, a promise. But no matter the reason, no matter their fate—once they stepped inside, they belonged to the dungeon. And the dungeons… never let go. Right Dungeons, because it's not only one but Three of them with different kinds of hell to offer, will you dive?.

They say words cut deeper than knives. Jiang Yanxu never thought his own would come back to bleed him dry. "You look terrible. Why don’t you just disappear instead of being a nuisance to everyone?" Cold. Final. That’s how Jiang Yanxu ended things with his ex-wife—Yan An. Regret is a bitter pill, and it always comes too late. For nearly five years, Jiang Yanxu played the villain well: public affairs, sharp-edged humiliation, love dangled just out of reach. Yan An bore it all in silence—until he vanished from his world, leaving nothing behind but wreckage. But fate, cruel as ever, had one last trick to play. His empire crumbled. His pride shattered. His dignity stripped. And in the ruins of it all, Jiang Yanxu saw the face of the man he once believed was his salvation—the same man who now held the blade. Then came the twist he never saw coming: he woke up to a day that felt all too familiar. The day it all began. Was it punishment? A second chance? A cosmic joke? Jiang Yanxu doesn’t care. He only knows one thing—he won’t waste it this time. "Yan An, I was wrong. Come back to me." But some ghosts don't forgive easily. ---------------------------------------------------- UPDATE: 1 chapter per 10 days. Slow-burn. Seme protagonist.

The nightmares started without warning. At first, they were fleeting—a whisper in the dark, a shadow at the edge of vision. But then the dreams bled into reality. The world twisted. Time fractured. And at the center of it all… was the owl.

What would you give for what your soul craves? Would you sever an arm to strike a knave? For but a drop upon your dry tongue, what would you trade? Otto, a hunter rotted in rave, Longs for joy, even with ashen chains collar his will. he is a slave … yet time will rust both chains and will..

And she spoke, “So many of you are so ignorant. And so dirty. And evil. I will be upon your lives while you use my words. My sounds. My actions. You really are nothing. Less than anything. Babylon. You stole from me. Cut me. Bled me. Mock me. I’ve had enough. It’s time for the truth in the world to know whose word it is.”

[Apocalypse x Food Hoarding x Sweet Romance x Female Zombie Protagonist x Super Alpha Male Lead] Torrential rain, typhoons, tsunamis, thunderstorms, geomagnetic disappearance, zombies, monsters, supernatural abilities, and more... Congratulations, you've unlocked the apocalypse storyline! The world is reshuffling, and your survival journey ahead depends on fate, luck, and your own abilities. - While others are still screaming in panic, Xu Duoduo, a survival fanatic, has already stocked up her food storage to the brim! From meat, eggs, and dairy to various canned foods and dry rations, from weapons to all kinds of tools. With her thousand-faced Rubik's Cube space at hand, all supplies are packed and ready to go! However—why did she, despite being fully prepared, turn into a babbling little zombie right from the start?!

The moonlight spilled through the canopy of the dark forest, casting an eerie glow on the man lounging against an ancient tree. Morris was impossibly handsome—too handsome to be real. His sharp jawline, framed by tousled black hair, was shadowed by the flicker of firelight in his golden eyes. He swirled a goblet of wine lazily in his hand, his lips curved into a devilish smirk. Elowen froze, captivated. He looked like a prince from a forbidden story, but something in the air warned her he was no mortal. “Lost, little lamb?” His voice was velvet, dark and smooth, wrapping around her like a spell. “I was...just—” she stammered, but he stood in one fluid motion, closing the distance between them. “Just wandering into my domain,” he interrupted, his tone teasing yet dangerous. “How bold of you.” His gaze raked over her, and her heart pounded under the weight of his attention. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, stepping closer until she could feel the heat radiating from him. “Do you know who I am?” She shook her head, her throat dry. “I am Morris,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, seductive growl. “The devil. The one your kingdom fears, the one your priests curse. And now,” he leaned in, his golden eyes glowing like embers, “you’ve wandered straight into my hands.” The shadows around him seemed to ripple with his amusement as a smirk played on his lips. He extended a hand, his voice both a command and an invitation. “Come closer, Elowen. Let me show you what happens when innocence meets the devil.”

In the Ashen Reach, a cursed wasteland of black dunes and ember-storms, Torv “Ash” Kren runs alone, hauling glowing ember-shards in a battered sled. Once a raider, he quit when his crew torched innocence—now he trades magic fuel for water, machete chipped, coat patched, one job from death. An ember-storm cracks his sled—shards spill—when Lysa “Ember” Vey stumbles from the haze, half-dead, clutching a red-hot Core Ember worth a fortune or a grave. Lysa’s an ash-witch—bends shards into fire-blades, hunted by warlord Krax for a 10,000-shard bounty. She offers Torv 2,000 to run her to the Free Drift, rebel camp past the Dune Wall—or leave him dry in the sand. Torv’s gut says ditch her—warlord’s hounds close—but her ember buys time, and his Ash Runner Sense wakes: kills earn miles, power grows. They trek—raiders bleed, storms burn—Torv’s machete sings (+500 miles, Dune Dash), Lysa’s fire cuts deep. Krax’s dogs tear closer—ember-teeth glint—when the Core cracks, whispering: “Free me, claim all.” Truth hits: Lysa’s bounty’s fake—Krax wants the Core that cursed the Reach. Torv’s past crew died for it—he’s bound to the ash. Miles climb (Ash Veil, 1,000)—lungs scar, Lysa’s shard burns her grip. At the Dune Wall, Krax looms—Torv carves, Lysa flares—Core shatters, Reach shakes. Warlord falls—shards rain—but Torv’s ash-coated, Lysa’s bleeding. A new ember glows west—next run calls. Grind, fire, survival—will Torv and Lysa outrun the curse, or burn in it?

Born of a forbidden union, a god named Matrix found his destiny intertwined with the greatest war the realms had ever known. When the battle finally subsided, an unexpected burden fell upon him: the mantle of World King. He ruled with grim resolve, balancing order and sacrifice, his hands forever stained with the ichor of fallen gods. But even this hard-won peace was fragile. From the depths of Oblivion, a monstrous horde, imprisoned by his father's desperate act, clawed its way free, threatening to unravel all he had built. Against this encroaching darkness, Matrix stood defiant, but as a god without allies, his crusade seemed doomed from the start. Or so fate decreed. As defeat loomed, a hidden anomaly revealed itself: a tear in the fabric of time, offering a desperate escape through transmigration. Yet such power comes with a terrible price. How long can a god endure such trials? When will he succumb to despair, to the very darkness he seeks to vanquish? Will he shatter under the strain, becoming a harbinger of annihilation across the realms? Or might he, against all prophecy, find a spark of hope within the abyss and rise anew? * "Tell me what you saw," Matrix commanded, his voice edged with a desperate impatience. The Oracle chuckled, a dry, rustling sound that seemed to emanate from the very bones of the earth. A tremor ran through Se'mudara, prickling the skin on her arms. "I see dead people,"

In a world where the unseen weaves fate and power is both a blessing and a curse, the awakened are called Phantoms—warriors bound to the spirits, their strength the only shield between humanity and annihilation. Long ago, when the Wraithborn first descended—eldritch horrors that slithered from the void beyond existence—humanity stood at the edge of ruin. The skies darkened, cities crumbled, and no blade nor bullet could harm these spectral abominations. Then came the First Call—whispers from the Spiritscape, a realm beyond mortal comprehension. Those who heard it awakened as phantoms, wielding power borrowed from spirits unseen, pushing back the darkness and carving the first fragile dawn of survival. But survival had a price. Phantoms became the weapons of the world. The Regency regulated the phantoms, dictating their purpose: to fight or be discarded. Yet among them stood the Crowned Phantoms, legends of their kind, those who had ascended beyond the ordinary, commanding the Spiritscape with unrivaled mastery. They were kings among warriors, epitomes of power, the history of the ones revered. Countless yearned to be crowned, to stand above all, to forge their names in eternity. Kael Veyne wanted none of it. Awakened at the age of three—far too young, far too dangerous—Kael understood what others refused to see. Power was not glory. Power was chained. The world loved its heroes when they won but discarded them the moment they failed. He watched as Phantoms bled, as the Regency dictated their lives, as those who sought greatness were crushed under the weight of expectation. So he made a choice. He hid. For years, he lived in the shadows, using his power only to protect himself, refusing to be another cog in the machine. He wanted a quiet life, a life that was his. But fate is never kind to those who defy it. A single moment—an unseen ripple in the fabric of destiny—threatens to unravel everything. The Wraithborn are changing stronger, and no longer bound by the laws that once held them back. The Spiritscape stirs, its whispers louder than ever. The Regency is watching. And in the depths of the unseen world, an ancient prophecy murmurs of an emperor who walks between realms, commanding the spirits themselves. Kael has spent his life running from the inevitable. But when the tide rises and the world begins to shift, when all eyes turn toward him—will he remain a ghost in the crowd… or will the Spirit Emperor rise?

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The sky wept in crimson. A deep, unnatural red bled across the heavens, drowning Velmoria’s golden sunrise in an eerie, suffocating glow. The air was thick with an unshakable stillness, as if the world itself held its breath. Crowds gathered in the city streets, heads tilted upward in fearful awe at the sight of the blood-red eclipse—a celestial event unseen in Velmoria’s long history. In the heart of the empire, within the grand halls of the Imperial Palace, the echoes of a woman’s anguished cries shattered the silence. The Empress was in labor. Nobles and servants alike stood frozen in the corridors, their hands clenched in prayer, their faces pale with worry. For hours, her screams had filled the palace, each one weaker than the last. The royal physicians worked desperately, but the Empress—Velmoria’s radiant star, beloved by all—was fading. And then, silence. The heavy stillness that followed was more terrifying than her screams. A single cry pierced the air—the wail of a newborn. The moment the child took his first breath, the doors to the birthing chamber burst open, and a cloaked figure stumbled forward—an old seer, his eyes wide with horror. He raised a trembling hand toward the heavens, his voice cracking like brittle parchment. "The sun has bled to mark his birth!" he cried. "He will be the harbinger of ruin—the flames that will consume Velmoria!" His voice carried through the halls, past the nobles, past the gathered guards—out into the city, where the terrified people turned their eyes away from the red eclipse and toward the palace. A prince had been born. A cursed prince.