Cultivation: I Can Add Descriptors To My Body - Chapter 135 - : A Bet

Zhou Youlin, a famous ice queen of the special forces. During an accident in her mission, she was betrayed by her squad mates and was shot twice. She died on the spot. When she woke up again, she became the useless madam of a rice family and was a resentful wife who was neglected by her husband. Her son, too, was neglected.“If I’m not mistaken, we’re already divorced. You’re currently invading my home, my dear ex.” Zhao Youlin raised her chin and sat at the end of the couch with her legs folded. She looked prideful.Mu Tingfeng was expressionless. “We can get married again.”Zhou Youlin quirked her eyebrows. Then, she swung her hand, and a large number of handsome men’s pictures were spread on the table.“Baby, be a good boy and choose someone you like to be your stepdaddy, okay?”Mu Tingfeng’s expression… turned dark.

Lucian, a young human has died and met the goddess of death. She has chosen him as her agent of chaos and personal plaything, to bring about an apocalypse that will fix the imbalance of the world and resume death's natural course.Will he allow himself to be manipulated and succumb to his new instincts, or will he take another path and live his new life the way he would want?This book contains NSFW content.This story will be updated daily.

A god of a different world had abruptly appeared in my classroom and semi-forcibly summoned the entire class to his world.ーーーーexcept for me, Kamiya Yato.

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

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