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... on the opposite side, Pressing down on the waist, he pressed his right hand tightly on the hilt of the Taidao in his hand,! Kagura said lightly, "However, for us now, we only need to focus on our beliefs, and cut off our obsessions with a sword—"

"Choose your own destiny, and then accept it, because everything is our own choice—" Protoss has been getting closer and closer, and can even clearly feel the powerful magic power rushing towards him, but Kagura's expression is Still motionless, ...

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A muffled murmur sounded softly,

Crazy goblins ravage the village,

Mutated beasts roam the fields,

The ancient old gods are gradually awakening,

Just when the darkness is about to engulf the entire continent,

A brave man from another world quietly appeared,

This may be the darkest hour before dawn.

Human: “The savior has come?”

Monster: “Have new food arrived?”

Till the fame of the brave spread far and wide,

Walking through every corner of the continent,

He/she/they know,

What is the real darkest hour.

The monsters and humans said in unison:

“I beg you to be human, the ancient gods were so scared that they went back to sleep.”

- Description from novelbuddy

Like Deadpool in the DC Universe.Chapter 37: Looking for the joker
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In a world of brooding heroes and dark justice, one mercenary stands out—not for his skill, but for his relentless sarcasm and love for chaos. A self-proclaimed anti-hero, he finds himself working with the Titans, much to their frustration. While undeniably skilled in combat and nearly impossible to kill, his real talent lies in driving his teammates insane with endless jokes, fourth-wall breaks, and questionable decision-making. Whether it’s swapping Robin’s gadgets with toy versions, turning serious battles into slapstick comedy, or giving monologues mid-fight, he thrives on pushing everyone’s patience. But beneath the humor, there’s a sharp mind, a tragic past, and a surprising willingness to do what others can’t. While the Titans may roll their eyes at him, they also know that when things get truly dire, he’s the wildcard they need. Love him or hate him—he’s here to stay, and he’s having way too much fun.

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Transmigration? A Chong Xi Marriage? Sickly husband? How worse can this get?

Mo Qian Xue now lives in a soddy, destitute, small house with broken furnitures. The grass had grown wild and unruly from lack of proper care. The rice pot in the kitchen, it’s left empty. Well, this mess seemed quite manageable, however, why is it they only have one quilt in the house?

Not only does she serve her husband food and refreshments during the day, does she need to make sure he’s well “fed” at night too?

“It’s getting late now… we should go to bed. Said the sickly husband. She simply closed the door, turned off the lights, and went straight to sleep.

“If you dare move, I’ll kick you out of the bed!” She threatened.

In the end, the man still managed to wrap himself around her no matter how she resisted. The sickly husband wasn’t as weak as he appeared to be!

Mo Qian Xue worked hard to become rich. She built workshops, opened factories, one aided by her sickly husband towards prosperity. Fortunately, she could live a peaceful life far from bickering relatives, but then, much to her dismay, she still had to deal with the villagers knocking on her door.

So they want her money? They want her position as a wife? Since when was she, Mo Xian Que easy to bully?! They want to make her lose face? Alright, let them come a little closer then… give them a…. slap!

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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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