PREVIEW

... ed, he looked through the glass door, saw Soyeon arranging stuff, and went inside.


"Welcome!"


Soyeon got up from her seat, saw that it was him, and was unable to hide her concern.


"Are you okay?"


"I could fly because of the cider you gave me the other day."


"That's a relief."


She started arranging sushi rolls. He picked up two sushi rolls and two boxes of banana milk, and put them on the checkout counter. Soyeon rang it up and looked at ...

YOU MAY ALSO LIKE
The CEO Is the Daddy to TripletsChapter 493 - : Untitled
 9.1k
4.5/5(votes)
RomanceSlice Of Life

MTL - Building The Ultimate Fantasy~ Final testimonial
 521.6k
4.1/5(votes)
ActionFantasyMartial ArtsWuxia

A young man sat on a chair and looked out at the ocean. With one wisp of Spirit Qi, he could point anywhere on this vast and expansive world, pointing at any place that didn’t look right.

Someone once became the last one to wield a knife that could decapitate huge dragons and bathed in dragons’ blood. Someone once loved treating others to chicken soup, so he kept nine phoenixes in his backyard.

Someone once sat lazily on the top of mountains as his words flooded river banks, and his qi could hold a million soldiers back. Someone once moved mountains and shifted hills with just one brush, his paintings so captivating it could enchant immortals and deities.

That year, the warmth of spring made the flowers bloom. They were merely an ordinary butcher, a bookworm, a chicken farmer and a poor artist. This is the story of how a Low Level Martial World Continent was transformed into the Ultimate Fantasy Universe.

- Description from Qidian

My autobiography is definitely not a tragedy!Chapter 31 - 30: Saving Others is Also Saving Oneself
 5
4.0/5(votes)
Sci-fiComedyReincarnation

Suddenly, the mysterious book I received turned out to describe my own life?Once I chose to change my destiny, the life within the book changed as well.In the book, I encountered insincerity, spent ten years behind bars, and witnessed viruses laying Siege...Cancer, bus plunging off cliffs, plane crashes, senile dementia ... even the end of days – a variety of deaths; was this fate's punishment for the rebels?No one is a hero; it is just that this disaster-ridden fate forcibly made me into a warrior charging into battle.Those who killed me over and over will ultimately make me stronger!Through numerous life simulations, I amassed wealth from the financial markets, rescued innocent girls from felons, and acquired advanced technology from the future...Although I always encounter various disasters and accidents, I still strive to flutter the butterfly's wings, changing my original fate little by little.After countless simulations, the world too embarked on a completely different path.However, where did this autobiography come from?Behind it all, what kind of unknown conspiracy is lurking...[A literary man's laid-back daily life of unlimited simulations to save the world]

THE DEATH KNELLChapter 67: War of God’s and Shadows
 22
4.5/5(votes)
FantasyActionAdventureHarem

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”