Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?! - Chapter 795 - 383: The Eight-Headed Giant Boar, Changes in the Blissful Heart Domain - Part 2

Fear breaks the boundaries between dreams and reality, and it is impossible to tell which is reality and which is illusory. When the nightmare really comes, no one can be alone.

This is both a danger and an opportunity.

- Description from novelbuddy

This is the story about the rebirth of a xiao gōng with a sweet steamed bun-like xiao shòu.

In the past life, xiao shòu, in order to help xiao gōng block a poisonous blade, ended up dying due to blood loss.

After the rebirth of xiao gōng, xiao shòu was loved till overflowing.

This is a cliche story which is warm, sweet, no abuse.

- Description from Novelupdates

In the last age of light, when the Dark Lord’s shadow grew long and deep, a single voice cried out through the veil of time.One child would be marked by the Dark—destined to stand as his equal.But prophecy never speaks in solitude.The Second Child was born not of fire, but of frost—A child of snow, carried by silence, forged in the cold ache of betrayal from another life.Once broken by a world that failed her,Now reborn into one that sings with ancient magic, she remembers everything—The scars, the silence, the hunger to be free.She carries not just a soul, but a secret lineage.Not Black, but White.The most ancient and feared house in wizarding Britain—rival to the House of Black.As the old war stirs again, the girl who walks with the snow must carve her own path,One not dictated by strangers , nor prophecy, nor fate.For she is not the chosen one.She is the one who chooses.Her name will never be spoken in prophecy’s limelight,But she will shape its every echo.When the wise fall,When the first light fades,When darkness hunts not just the chosen boy, but the truth itself .She will rise.Freed by will to a future she dares to dream,She will defy the prophecy’s chains,And forge a new legend.Her wand shall carve snow into fire,Her heart shall unmake silence,And her journey will lead not to glory,But to truth,To freedom,And to the light that returns after the storm.……………………………………….Author’s Note:Just a quick reminder before you begin—this fanfic is written entirely by me. I only use AI to help refine the grammar and polish the text. All the characters, plot, and story decisions are my own.I mention this at the start for those who may not prefer stories that use any form of AI assistance. I want to be upfront so you know what to expect.This fanfic is also firmly in the Yuri genre, focused on a female lead and her relationship with another girl—possibly two, but no more than that. Most likely, it will center around just one love interest.I hope you enjoy the story and the journey ahead!

They call him Ghost.A name whispered in fear across warzones, black markets, and underworld circles.To the world, he's a phantom—a faceless mercenary who leaves no trace but bodies in his wake.To his enemies, he’s a death sentence.To his brothers-in-arms in Graveyard, he’s family.But to himself... he's a haunted man searching for a past stolen in gunfire and smoke.After a flawless mission deep in the Eastern Province, Ghost returns to the hidden forest base he's called home for sixteen years. Yet the victory is short-lived. His foster father, the commander delivers an unexpected order:“That was your last mission.”Now, Ghost—real name Miles Sterling—must step out of the shadows of war and into a world he’s never known. Guided only by a scarred letter, a fading memory, and the voice of a woman he hasn’t seen since the day everything was taken from him.But war forged more than his body and name.Behind the mask, behind the scars, Miles has another secret.One he’s kept hidden even from his brothers in arms.He’s not just a weapon.He’s a ghost with a fortune—a hidden empire he built in silence, across borders and black markets, forged in strategy and blood.A man of many names, and many shadows.Beneath the bullets, tattoos, and silence lies a truth buried in ashes.And Ghost is about to dig it up—one letter, one enemy, one memory at a time.