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... ee by, but he wasn't attempting to read. He perched on the cot's edge, boots tied, tunic folded twice at the arms, fingers fidgeting with residual tension. The edge leaned against the wall next to him. Just in case.

When the morning bell chimed, he had already left.

The courtyard was vacant.

The fog still hadn't cleared. It moved through stone arches and training posts like a sigh from something old. Leon passed through it at a leisurely pace. Every noise was amplified—hi ...

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Mu Mu transmigrated in the novel that had the plot like a fraud marriage with a man dressed in women’s clothing, rich man regretting and taking revenge after rebirth.

The body he had transmigrated into was none other than that of a scumbag who was a fraud man dressed in women’s clothing. He was also the one that the protagonist took revenge against.

And now, he was standing at the door of the Civil Affairs Bureau with that damn protagonist, holding the newly-released marriage certificate in his hand.

Mu Mu agitatedly raised his head. He saw the fierce and sinister expression on that damn protagonist. He was twitching the corners of his mouth, showing a grim smirk of wishing to eat his blood and flesh.

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Epic fantasy presence: Ashes Of The First Tyrant [AOTFT]Prologue – The Law of AuraThey say every soul burns.Some flare brightly and fade. Others smolder quietly for a lifetime.But a rare few, rare beyond reason ignite with such intensity that the world bends to them. These are not gods. Not yet.These are the Tyrants.And their aura is not a gift.It is a weight a burden.In this world, aura is everything.It is the breath behind a sword strike, the pressure behind a command, the silent will that can crush or inspire. Most are born with it. Few master it.But only one…only one in an ageawakens the Tyrant’s Spirit…the aura that dominates not by force, but by presence alone.

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What does it feel like when you have a best-selling detective fiction author for a boyfriend?

Whenever you offend him, he would look at you disdainfully, “A character molded after you could only ever appear in my novel as a deceased victim.”

Whenever you seriously offend him, he would threaten you, “The very next victim who dies in my novel would be named after you.”

Whenever you seriously, seriously offend him, he would add on to the previous threats, “Furthermore, the victim would have died at the hands of an extremely perverse and twisted serial killer, and would have suffered an extremely painful and terrible death.”

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