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... rile tomb reeking of burnt metal and fried circuits, the air thick with an acrid sting that clawed at the lungs.

Beno stood at its center, chest heaving, each breath a ragged scrape tearing his throat raw. His body buzzed—a restless hum of lightning dancing beneath his skin, crackling faintly at his fingertips like a storm refusing to fade.

The robotic wolves lay sprawled across the gleaming floor—twisted husks o ...

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Once transmigrated, the Mob Queen became a small peasant girl and was given a small bun.

Her parents were biased, while her siblings disliked her. Her father, aunt, and brother bullied the weak and feared the strong. Was her eccentric grandfather trying to sell her for money? She also wanted to get involved …

What should he do? The Queen rolled up her sleeves. Don't be afraid, just do it.

However, he had accidentally provoked the man he had picked up from the mountain.

“I will raise you and you will belong to me,” the mountain man said.

Hehe, raise your ass!

He started a fertile field, raised livestock, and his days became more and more popular. He even collected the mighty and domineering Han warm bed in the mountains for his use.

However... How did you become a general in this mountain?!

Boundless NecromancerChapter 282
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I never thought I could become a hunter.I never thought I would get the chance.But that wasn’t true.「 ‘Tower of Trials’ has selected all suitable candidates from Earth. 」「 Please select your difficulty. 」「The chosen difficulty will be directly proportional to your rewards. 」I was given a chance now.A special one at that.

Can You Mend My Broken Heart?Chapter 557: PART2 OF BOOK - HEAVEN CAN WAIT !
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Gazing at the Starbucks café at the airports had become a ritual for her. A desperate attempt as she hoped against hope to see him again, probably get one more chance to kiss him again.

Looking at the store all lost, she walked ahead, but stumbled and bumped against someone.

The cup of coffee that he had in his hand spilled all over just like the first time when she had met him.

“Jesus Christ”, he muttered.

The moment she heard the voice she looked up and saw his face. It was the same face that had promised to stay next to her, till death did them apart.

Tears flooded her eyes and she could barely speak, “I knew you would come back for me Raymond”. She raised herself on her toes in an attempt to kiss him, but he blocked her lips with his palm.

“Whoa, whoa, Miss !!! I guess you have mistaken me for someone else.”

“What are you saying, Raymond? It's me, your Akira. The love of your life, your fiancée,” she said and stretched her hand showing the ring on her finger.

He stared at the ring for quite some time and then looked at her face apologetically and said,

“Miss please, I am already a married man.”

And then he silently walked away.

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Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.