Supernatural

Criminal investigations, soul-ferrying powers, a formidable partnership, and a slow-burn romance.

Everyone knew that Ren Fengjue, the Young Marquis of Renxuan Marquis Manor, was an exceptionally capable man. At a young age, he was already a high-ranking court official and one of the Emperor’s most trusted favorites.

With an illustrious background, striking looks, and both brains and brawn, he seemed to move through life without ever meeting an obstacle he could not overcome.

That changed the day a woman claiming to be his fiancée appeared at his door and opened with a sentence that left him stunned.

Xia Ximo: “Write me a letter of annulment.”

Ren Fengjue: “???”

At first, Lord Ren was buried in official duties and had no interest in romance. If she wanted out of the engagement, so be it. He had never intended to marry in the first place.

Later, after one twist after another, the way he looked at his fiancée changed completely.

Ren Fengjue: “I have already petitioned the Emperor for a marriage decree. If we annul the engagement now, it would count as defying an imperial edict, a crime punishable by the execution of nine generations.”

Xia Ximo: “???”

[Does Chinese Taoist magic work on foreign ghosts?]

[I have no idea. I’m on my way to a cemetery castle right now. I’ll let you all know when I get back.]

My reply to the post was voted to the top of the comments.

Everyone said I was bragging, but what they didn’t know was that I am the sole Earth Master successor.

And the thing inside that British Castle is far more terrifying than any ghost.

Luxury cars picking me up at the school gate was a common sight. My roommate started a rumor that I had a sugar daddy, and even secretly took tons of pictures of me with middle-aged men. But not long after, her father was on his knees in front of me:

“Master Qiao, I beg you-please save my whole family.”

What she didn’t know was that I am currently the only Earth Master successor.

[Urban + System + Comedy + Scheming]

Countless couples were showing affection on the Ferris Wheel.

Zhang Bei hummed a little tune and pressed the red button.

The Ferris Wheel, suspended a hundred meters in the air, suddenly came to a halt.

Then, unbelievably, it tilted sideways.

Countless couples sitting in their seats were catapulted into midair, connected by only a single rope.

A few seconds later, the entire Ferris Wheel spun like a rapidly rotating plate. Countless couples played warm and harmonious games in the air. On the Drop Tower, people experienced the Human Yo-Yo at ninety meters high.

On the Bumper Car ride, there was an underground escape filled with Zombies and Ghosts.

The doctor watched as a visitor just came off the Roller Coaster, and stuffed a Quick-Acting Heart Rescue Pill into the burly man’s mouth.

His eyes were full of grievance.

“Boss, if this keeps up, someone’s going to die!”

“No, look how happy they are!”

I livestream my mom dancing the Soul Summoning Dance.

Netizens rush to like and comment.

Only one bullet comment says: [Your mom is dancing the Soul Summoning Dance. If she dances for seven days straight, she can exchange a life.]

My hand holding the phone trembles.

Today is the seventh day.

I am a sickly, frail, spoiled drama queen.

One night, as I was once again willfully demanding my Butler come and coax me to sleep, a stream of Bullet Comments suddenly appeared before my eyes: “The horror boss is outside hunting Players and having the time of his life. He doesn’t have time to tuck you in and coax you to sleep.”

“She’s just a human being kept as a pet in a castle by a horror boss. She actually thinks she’s some kind of Young Lady.”

“Once the big boss meets the clever and witty Female Lead, he’ll grow disgusted with this delicate, spoiled drama queen. He’ll use all sorts of perverted methods to torture her before eating her piece by piece.”

Terrified, I hid under my covers, trembling uncontrollably.

The next second, a cool hand gently pulled back the duvet. A voice, gentle yet tinged with a faint, chilling coldness, drifted down from above me: “Master, what’s wrong?”

Liu Ye always felt that he was a good person-specifically, a paragon of filial piety. When it came to his mother, he was exceptionally devoted.

The Joyous Funeral Fiend: Bullshit!

Toward his father, he was kind and amiable.

The Water Fiend: *Sob, sob*… Don’t come any closer! If you take one more step, I’ll die right in front of you!

To his friends, he was the type who would take a bullet for them.

Other Fiends: You mean you’d put two bullets in us!

In short, Liu Ye felt that he was a happy man.

The Fiends: Isn’t your happiness just the history of our blood and tears?

How do you get a man to spend five million on you with a single sentence?

“Sir, your face bears an omen of disaster.” The man looked at me with utter disdain.

The next second, the Rolls-Royce he had parked by the roadside was hit by a van.

It exploded on the spot.

The night I was sent into the Royal Palace, snow was falling from the heavens.

One hundred and twenty silver lamps lined the steps, but their wicks were not made of cotton; they were segments of little finger bones coated in white wax.

Everyone said that as long as I sold my last box of matches to the Crown Prince, Baili City would survive this winter.

Only I knew that the flames capable of conjuring the scent of bread, the crackle of a hearth, and the warmth of a grandmother’s smile were not blessings from God.

They were the final dreams of children who had frozen to death in the streets.

Tonight, the Royal Palace was coming for mine.

In Jiangnan, the Shen Family possessed a secret technique passed down through generations: the ability to embroider a person’s final appearance before they died.

For thirty years, my father embroidered for the powerful and elite, never once making a mistake.

That was until he died in his embroidery room, and on the Death Portrait before him-depicting a face bleeding from every orifice-was me.