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... stepped down from Cyrus’ tail with a little wobble—part exhaustion, part dramatics—and made her way toward Kian, brushing nonexistent dust from her skirt like she was preparing for a red carpet stroll. Around her, the villagers, who had previously dispersed like startled chickens, slowly trickled back, peeking around corners and bushes to witness the newest development.

"You’re here," Isabella said, offering Kian a warm smile that managed to look completely genuine despite the swarm of ...

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President, Our Egg Is LostChapter Sixty-Nine, Fanwai – Song of Four Seasons (The Final Ending): Another spring had arrived.
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A Certain President: Did you lay an egg? Have you lost your egg?

Ji XiaoYu: No, we lost our egg!

According to the legend of Jianghu, rooster eggs can have a great effect as a elixir. If eaten by ordinary humans, they can prolong their life, while if eaten by spiritual beasts, they can greatly increase their power.

One year after the pheasant spirit, Ji XiaoYu, entered the land of humans, he suddenly laid an egg, but he couldn’t remember who the other father of the egg was.

While working hard to earn money to save up for powdered milk and having to also protect the small egg from all sorts of bad characters, this pheasant’s life is really difficult.

Unfortunately, there is also a careless belly black husband entangled with him all day long, irritating this little master to depend on him, is he not afraid!

Joke title: “My Partner Laid an Egg and Then He Lost It; Asking Online: How Is This Possible, etc., It’s Urgent!”

MTL - I’ve Transmigrated Into This Movie BeforeChapter 176 Fanwai Lantern Night Talk [Next]
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– Question: “What is scarier than the personal experience of transmigrating into a horror movie?”

Anonymous: “Transmigrating into a movie you’ve never seen before.”

– “Poor comment! There’s nothing scary about that!”

Anonymous reply: “You sure? Can you be sure your dad isn’t a murderer? Can you be certain your spouse isn’t out to kill you for insurance money? Can you even be certain there isn’t any hidden lethal weapon in your son’s lunchbox? The scariest thing is that you have never seen this movie before so, you have absolutely no idea of any ‘surprise’ that awaits you ahead!”

Hence, this novel is also called .

A line to sum it up: The female lead transmigrates into various movie adaptations of real stories, and conquers the audience.

- Description from Novelupdates

Devouring Monarch: Rebirth of the Profane PhoenixChapter 518 Rubella Plains - Liberating the Basin
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Asura, a noble in the kingdom of Silvara, spent his days quietly until his world ended. Betrayed by his beloved wife and then killed, he swore to get revenge on them in his late moments. Upon death, Asura somehow returned 20 years into the past. Prepared to get revenge on the woman who betrayed him.On his journey for revenge, he discovers true love, friendship, and a life-altering truth.A dark cult controls his fate like a game—even his beloved's betrayal was their work. He learns about his powers and strange bloodlines. Then, about this being his ninth and final rebirth! All to revive their god, using Asura as the perfect vessel.Vowing to destroy the cult's plot and protect his loved ones, Asura forges an alternative path.Becoming the Devouring Monarch

THE DEATH KNELLChapter 67: War of God’s and Shadows
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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.”