PREVIEW

... iang Danhe was at home, he would definitely stick to Xiaoguo. He couldn’t do anything bold, but he always makes an effort to steal a kiss or hug from her.

Everyday before dawn, Jiang Danhe would be looking forward to nightfall. And during the night, Xiaoguo would be looking forward to dawn.

Xiaoguo heaved a sigh of relief when Jiang Danhe’s vacation ended.

If things continued like this, Jiang Danhe might not worry about his kidneys but Xiaoguo would have to worry about he ...

YOU MAY ALSO LIKE
MTL - Reborn in Brazil As a PlutocratChapter 467 Hermann Oberth
 207.4k
3.3/5(votes)
FantasyHistoricalMilitary

This is the story of a modern sailor who was accidentally reborn as a soldier of the Brazilian Expeditionary Force, and finally became the largest plutocratic family in Brazil by virtue of his foresight.

- Description from novelbuddy

MTL - Raising a Fox Spirit in My Home~ Best Popular Actress Award Winning Testimonials
 54.8k
4.2/5(votes)
ActionComedyMartial ArtsRomance

This book narrates the joyful cultivation tale of an ordinary commonplace university student and a cute and coquettish little fox.

Please observe this human-animal… *cough* …human-demon love story.

- Description from Novelupdates

Kujibiki Tokushou: Musou Hāremu kenChapter 319
 3.5k
4.4/5(votes)
MatureAdventureFantasyAction

I drew a lottery at the Shopping District and won the privilege to go to another world. After drawing a lot of balls, unexpectedly I got a cheat-like skill. Silencing those who are noisy and getting hold of all the things that I want. I will satisfy all my desires.

THE DEATH KNELLChapter 67: War of God’s and Shadows
 22
4.5/5(votes)
FantasyActionAdventureHarem

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.”