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... began to change with the simple act of the fallen one-armed man pushing the ground with his left hand, starting to rise.

The demons' arrogance and mockery, which had once settled heavily, froze cold.

A fierce wind blowing from somewhere sent shivers down the spine, causing the movements of the insects crawling in search of prey to stiffen.

"..."

Demon Lord Magan, who was standing closest to him, felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck.

Am I gett ...

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The Cursed Prince's Strange BrideChapter 444 Locked out
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The biggest mistake of Alicia's life, was trying to commit suicide.

She found herself in the body of a 19 years old princess in exile, in the middle ages.

What's more? She was forced to marry Prince Harold; the infamous white-haired hot tempered Prince who wouldn't mind killing someone for the most irrelevant reason.

Now, her wedding is only a few hours from now and the 'princess', which happens to be Alicia, is supposed to display some 'princessly' skills to the guest.

Quick question: Is twerking allowed in the middle ages?

She knew one thing for sure, the wedding was going to be a disaster and the hot tempered prince was going to kill her before she found her way back home.

God Help Her!

ThatAmazingGirl in collaboration with Miss_Behaviour (The writers of In Love With A Klepto) is bringing you another book.

“THE CURSED PRINCE'S STRANGE BRIDE”

What would you do if you suddenly found yourself in the body of a princess in the ancient time?

What's more, he isn't only a werewolf, he is also cursed by the moon goddess.

EXCERPT:

What should she do? She was confused and had no idea what was going on. Weddings in the middle ages was weird! What the hell is 'Virtues recitation'?

Should she pretend to faint? That was the only thought that made sense. So that was what she did.

She slowly collapsed on the ground and heard how everyone began to gasp and exclaim.

Alicia wanted them to take her out of there and then she would find a way to escape. But maybe she was unlucky after all, because when she peeped under her lashes, wondering why no one was coming to carry her out, she saw a golden robe, before the person crouched down in front of her.

She shut her eyes tightly and stilled her breath. She was an actress, after all. She could pull this off flawlessly.

“That was a bad act, my lady.” The deep voice spoke, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin.

Scary.

“I will only give you three seconds to get up.”

His voice wasn't really threatening, but somehow he commanded fear, especially with the slow and careful way he spoke. She had heard he was bad-tempered. What would he do after the three seconds passed? Would he kill her? Then would she die here? How did he even know she was pretending? Were people in the middle ages usually smart?

She opened one eye to peek at him and saw him staring right at her with a smirk.

THERE WAS NO WAY THE WEDDING WASN'T HAPPENING. SHE WAS SO DEAD!

MTL - Sick WifeChapter 111 , Extra 11
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Feng Xin was really tired. Twenty years ago, her girlfriend suffered a brain damage in an accident, and she woke up feeling abnormal.

She just watched the dazzling goddess in the past, and turned into a fool who likes to talk to herself, yell, and has no ability to take care of herself.

Now that Feng Xin is over forty years old, she has long become numb in the face of her often crazy wife. She should have lost Shang Congshu twenty years ago, so that she will not endure until middle age and suffer most of her life.

Waking up one night, Feng Xin returned to twenty years ago, and actually returned to the second day when Shang Congshu was mentally ill! ! !

Shang’s mother was distraught: “I know that ordinary people can’t bear this kind of accident. As long as you say a word not to be comfortable, my father and I will take them away immediately.”

The picture is exactly the same as it was 20 years ago. Feng Xin was held by Shang Congshu. The fool didn’t know what to say. …

It turned out that if she chose again, she still wanted to continue to love Shang Congshu.

Even if taking care of you who has become a lunatic makes me emaciated, sleepless every night, and tortures me so much, I still can’t stand my life without you.
Feng Xin: “Auntie, I want her.”

Content tags: urban love, special liking, heaven’s favored son, rebirth
Search keywords: Protagonist: Feng Xin (xīn), Shang Congshu ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others:

- Description from novelbuddy

MTL - My Big Brother is Seeking Death AgainChapter 240 Final ending
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The strongest man of the cultivation world, Yu Hua had sent the Grand Supreme Elderly Lord, Chi Hou to cultivate. After cultivating, Chi Hou was unrivaled for hundreds of thousands of years. However, he was ridiculed by the Demon Lord to be a bachelor who is as old as bone ashes and a fossil grade single dog. Not to even mention a girl, he doesn’t even have a little sister. In order to reverse the game, Chi Hou decided to kidnap the Demon Lord’s precious sister and turn her into his own little sister. He’ll first save her, then raise her, teach her magic, feed her dinner, tell her bedtime stories, and give her rare treasures. Like this, he’ll be the perfect brother. She won’t even remember her real brother.

Little sister: “What does this pervert who pulls me up every night to tell me ghost stories want to do? Cultivating to become a celestial is too hard, I want to go back to Earth!”

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THE DEATH KNELLChapter 63: THE DARK MULTIVERSE CONSPIRACY
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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.”