All Novel

I am a Jiao who has failed the Zoujiao process several times. To leech off some immortal energy, I specifically sought out a Heartless Dao Sacred Body Snake Clan Husband.

In theory, every time he goes through a molting, he should forget a portion of his past.

By the ninth time, all his memories of the mortal world should vanish, leaving nothing but his Dao Heart.

But even after eight rounds of molting, he still remembers that he loves eating roujiamo!

The crispy kind! Just as I reached the end of my rope and was planning to slip him some poison… A danmaku drifted past. [Here it comes! The Villainess Supporting Character is finally going offline!]

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?”

Seven years after my body was stolen from me, I finally succeeded in taking it back.

By then, “she” had already used my body to get married and become pregnant.

Without hesitation, I filed for divorce and terminated the pregnancy.

The news of my sudden divorce shot to the top of the trending searches, but I couldn’t have cared less.

My only priority was finding my lover, the man who had been left battered and broken in my absence.

I am a lactation consultant, specifically catering to wealthy socialites.

To gain my clients’ trust, I intentionally pretend to be blind.

I never expected that one day, when I arrived for a home visit, I would discover that my client had become a corpse.

And her husband was currently discussing how to dispose of her with another woman.

While recovering from an illness in Jiangnan, I had a brief, passionate affair with a scholar.

When it was time for me to return to the capital, I left him a hundred ounces of gold and a letter.

“My mother doesn’t approve of our marriage. It’s better if we part ways.” Two years later, he earned honors in the imperial examinations.

When we met again, his face was clouded with a dark, brooding intensity.

“Was the ‘mother’ you spoke of actually your mother-in-law?”

Three months after I moved into Old River Bend, the old lady next door died. While I was helping clear out her belongings, I found a diary.

The first page read: “My daughter died three years ago. The person living next door to me is a ghost.”

But I knew there was something wrong with her daughter from the very first day, because I’m a ghost, too.

Rules Rewritten by Me On my first day being pulled into the infinite game, the System announced that the survival rate for novices was a mere 3%.

However, when the broadcast read out the first death rule, I suddenly smiled.

That specific rule was the very opening I had written with my own hands three years ago.

My husband absolutely loathed his new graduate student.

He even went so far as to cause a scene in front of the Dean, demanding that she be transferred to another research group.

He claimed she was morally corrupt and a disgrace to academia.

That was, until the fire alarm went off. His custom-made suit was soaked through as he draped it over her head.

He pushed past me, carrying her in his arms like a princess as he rushed down the stairs.

I lost my mother at seven and my father at ten, leaving me with only Grandma to depend on.

Grandma made a living sewing and doing laundry for others, while I spent my summers farming and my winters heading into the mountains.

We managed to scrape by.

When I was fourteen, I had a dream.

In that dream, I was a princess.

After being brought into the palace, I engaged in a life-and-death struggle against the Impostor Princess.

In the end, we were both killed by the transmigrator, becoming nothing more than stepping stones on her path to power.

A serial killer targeting young women had appeared in our small town.

He even had a following of brainless sycophants who helped spread his message: “Women are better off staying in their place.”

As I was about to head out, my neighbor cautioned me, “Are you wearing a skirt? It’s not safe lately.”

I smiled. “You’re right. He isn’t safe.”

It is a little-known fact that criminals are even more vulnerable than women or children.

After all, whether they end up dead or maimed, they can never step into the light.

Why couldn’t he just stay in his place?

He just had to go and catch the eye of a lunatic like me.