Supernatural

My cousin is dead.

His hands were tied to a ceiling beam, and he was wearing a red dress over a swimsuit-a swimsuit that was still dripping wet.

The police report claimed it was a suicide.

But I know he didn’t kill himself. And I know who’s next.

It’s me. There is no escape.

At the Dong Manor’s night banquet, the beautiful Singing Girl transformed into a Pink Skeleton.

The next day, I entered the manor to interrogate, but everyone gave the same answer: they saw nothing.

What was even more outrageous-

The coroner’s examination revealed that the skeleton was a man!

I am a Zombie.

Early in the morning, my mom burst into my room, yanked open the curtains, and, wearing an apron and brandishing a spatula, shouted at me: “Still sleeping? Stayed up late again last night, didn’t you? I’ve told you to spend less time on your phone-are you deaf?”

I got up slowly. She glanced out the window and said, “Look at Xiao He next door-how many brains have they eaten already? And you’re still waiting here, waiting for me to feed you, is that it? Get out!”

I was really annoyed, but couldn’t say anything. I mechanically washed my face and got ready to go out and hide for a bit, but my mom said again, “Take your bag! And bring back some groceries from the supermarket: cabbage, celery, lettuce, and pork. Make sure it’s fresh!”

“Oh, and don’t eat the brains on the ground, too many germs…”

…

I transmigrated into a novel about the Apocalypse and became the daughter of the Zombie Emperor.

However, I awakened a Spatial Ability. When I was five years old, I accidentally teleported myself into the middle of the wilderness. To avoid starving to death, I shamelessly clung to the protagonists’ team, mooching off their food and supplies.

I spent my days spectating their drama and leisurely following them as they fought monsters and leveled up.

Until one day.

They came face-to-face with the ultimate villain, the big boss-

The Zombie Emperor. My dad.

While everyone else was on high alert, bracing for the fight of their lives…

…the Zombie Emperor gave me a sinister smile.

“Nianying, have you had enough fun? If you’re done playing, get your butt over here right now!!”

The Male Lead and Female Lead: “?!”

Everyone else: “?!”

Me: “…”

When the village held funerals, it had a custom called “Ox-Cutting.”

Each member of the bereaved family would take a blade in the mourning hall and hack a live ox to death as an offering to the departed.

A friend brought me along to watch the ritual.

I never imagined that when I woke up, I would have become that “ox.”

The villagers closed in around me with knives in hand.

But what they didn’t know was that I was the sole Earth Master successor.

I married into an ancient manor. My husband was handsome and gentle, spending every day personally selecting hairpins and picking out dresses for me.

Later, I discovered the manor’s secret, and my eyes welled with tears of terror.

He said, “You’re trembling. It’s not because you’re afraid of me, is it?”

“It’s alright. You just haven’t adjusted yet. I’ll teach you, slowly…”

I was in a rush to get home that night, so I hailed a taxi.

The driver asked me, “What do you do for a living, young lady?”

“I’m a fortune teller,” I replied. “Scary accurate, too.”

The driver gave a short laugh. “Well then, can you tell mine?”

“Sure.” I turned my head and stared intently at his face.

He had the features of a truly wicked man.

The owner of an antique shop came to me with a job: help him transport a batch of aged wine.

The wine had been hidden away in a deserted village for sixty years, sealed in massive jars, each one half as tall as a man.

On the day the cellar was opened, the fragrance carried for miles. Even the workers moving the jars felt light-headed from it.

But the young man selling the wine looked deathly pale. The moment he took the owner’s money, he refused to stay even one minute longer and hurried off.

That night, one of the workers secretly opened a jar.

When he was found the next day, his head was stuffed inside the wine jar. By the time they dragged him out, he was already dead.

On the night of February 2, 2011, my daughter was lured to a park under the guise of a part-time job.

There, she was raped and her body was discarded. At least three people were involved in the assault, but the killers were never found.

On New Year’s Eve, 2026, I prepared a table full of poisoned food and looked at my daughter’s photograph. “It’s been fifteen years, and I still haven’t found the people who destroyed you.

I don’t want to spend another New Year without you. I’m coming down to join you now.”

As the poison began to take effect, I set down my chopsticks and leaned over the table, retching. Just then, my phone rang.

When I answered, a familiar voice came from the other end: “Dad, I’m at the park. Wait for me, I’ll be home soon.”

The Mountain God’s Bride The day I was sold into Blackstone Village, they told me I was to be the Mountain God’s bride.

One month later, I walked back out from the mountains wearing a red bridal gown, stilt-walking, and wearing a Nuo mask.

Behind me, a three-mile-long Fire Dragon illuminated the main street.

On behalf of the Mountain God, I asked them: “We remember every girl you’ve sent in over the years. Are your own daughters ready?”