Farming Space Makes Me Rich - Chapter 1000 - An Xiaohui’s Wedding

Mathew survived the entire two weeks of the apocalypse. A great score for someone blessed with brains over the brawn. Yet, even he fell after just fourteen days, giving his all to save the one person he cared for.

But why does a death looks like watching himself from the third person perspective? Is this the purgatory to watch over his own shoulders at the mistakes he made? A punishment for Mathew's sins to repeat those mistakes over and over again?

But wait, what are the three clocks in the corner of his vision, one of which only five minutes away from ticking out?

[ Mature Content Ahead! ][ Warning: Narcissist & Coldblooded Mc, Narcissist System ] [ You can Skip volume 1 which is simple slife of life + Smut, All Mc does is cuck the top four families and a sect master ][ The above suggestion is must if you hate slow pace smuts, also please purchase privilege and help me in Win-win, 180 coins for 50 chapters ][ Foot fetish & neck fetish ]This book has nothing special aside from how you can alter the fate of Main character.You can choose a option.Ding! Mc has found a girl.1. Add her to the harem2. Kill her.[ The choice lies in your hand]

“Even if this universe is truly nothing more than a brutal bloody shadowy forest, we Cultivators will burn all that we have just to give off a single weak flickering spark in the darkness!

An Yin, a delicate beauty caught in a risky charade, pretends to date playboy Bo Cheng to escape her troubles—until she meets his brother, ​Bo Shaojin: the ruthless, untouchable CEO whose icy dominance rules both boardrooms and high society.Their first encounter crackles with sizzling tension. Shaojin’s piercing gaze lingers on An Yin, his brother’s “girlfriend,” as she trembles under his scrutiny. But when their paths collide again—her, half-dressed and panic-stricken in his bathroom; him, a storm of restraint and hunger—the line between duty and desire shatters.As An Yin’s fake relationship unravels, Shaojin’s ironclad control dissolves. Drunk on obsession, he corners her in a midnight confession, his hardened facade crumbling as he vows, “I won’t touch you…” But his hands whisper promises his words deny.