A Beloved Wife in Marriage - Chapter 274 - : Untitled

This captivating novel is also adapted into a comic available on Webnovel.----------------------------------Cultivating inner strength with the Nine Yang Energy and training the body to an indestructible state, the Golden Back Nine Rings Saber sweeps across with a forty-yard long silver-blue blade energy. With force sinking into the dan tian, charging left and right, the Descending Dragon Palm bombards everything in sight.There's the Way of the Heart Demon Seed... Self-Forgetfulness... Sunflower True Power... Flying Dagger in the Void... Cassock Subdues Demons... Seven Forms of the Dragon... Palm of Buddha, War God Shattering! All are part of a riveting and blood-pumping journey in the world of martial arts!...The mighty and robust Village Leader, Jiang Dali, sits quietly on his ornately carved pearwood chair, draped in a tiger skin coat over his bulging, strong muscles. His eyes are cold and tranquil as he surveils the newly recruited players sitting on both sides.Flattering praises from these players are incessant.'Mighty Village Leader, invincible against swords and spears, an unmatched Iron Palm – please teach me your martial arts expertise!''Village Leader, can someone with sensitive skin practice the Iron Shirt technique?''Brother, spare the slick talk. The Village Leader is well-known for his ruthless and merciless nature.'A player, who had just resurrected at the City God Temple, makes a grimace, 'Ignorant at first, I didn’t grasp the hidden meaning in his words. The second time I listen, I'm already a soul under the knife. The Village Leader's word is law; asking the same question twice will get you sent on your way. I have no f**ks left to give.'In essence, this is all about a muscleman wielding a big saber, traversing through the thrilling and varied martial world without a female lead. A domineering and decisive tyrant, an Iron-Boss with player characters flowing like water....

I became a side-character who died in anguish because of her good-for-nothing husband.

If I can’t avoid getting married, why don’t I change who I marry instead?

“Excellent, marriage sounds good.”

“Wise choice. Then let’s have a wedding ceremony that isn’t too ceremonious. Following that, I’ll need you to go down to the Fief and behave like the lady of the house until I call for you. Naturally, there won’t be any time to spend in leisure whilst dousing yourself in luxuries.”

“I’m not marrying you, but your father instead.”

“……Pardon?”

“I’m not going to marry you. Do you have a problem with that?”

A Professional Transmigrator meets a newbie Regressor.

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He lived an average, fulfilling life and died of old age. The next moment, he opened his eyes as the Princess of Asmaria.

While looking forward to his new life, he died again.

And so began his 151,897,914th life as Samur Eckart.

Samur is a Professional Transmigrator- or so he says so, as he gets transmigrated into a new world every time he dies.

However, each time, his memories return only moments before his death. If he successfully survives, he gets to live that life, if he dies, well, he just moves on to his next moment of death.

Once again on the verge of death as Samur, he’s saved at the last moment by a young boy.

Surprise, surprise, the young boy is a Regressor.

As a man of honour, Samur intends to repay his debt then leave because the world is too inconvenient to live in.

Well, that’s what he thought, at least, but the Regressor and his friends are kind of… weird, and he can’t seem to get away at all?

However, not everything is as it seems. Samur’s whims have made him the part of an eternal lie.

Shadows dance in glee as they concoct a requiem far grander than anyone can imagine, while the Lights tremble in delight as the apocalypse threatens the Universe.

The dies have been cast, the play has been written, the characters are on the stage, and the sacrifices have been made.

And so, it’s finally time to let this game begin.

In a world of shallow-minded, materialistic mortals, what would one from humble beginnings – whose face had been stomped on, spat on, oppressed for the longest while by the arrogant, pampered upper echelons of society – do, when a mysterious application pops up on a brand new phone that was meant to be the birthday gift of an ungrateful girlfriend? What if the application takes the form of a chatroom where its occupants, bearing the names of mythical, fictional beings, start giving out ‘Red Packets’, all the while spouting nonsense?