World of Women - Chapter 36Book 3:

This is a world where soul card masters manipulate soul cards to fight

Originally, everyone was honestly combining card decks and high-level summons according to card abilities, until Yu Cang awakened the entry recorder, and the painting style of the whole world became strange.

Whether it is a high-level card group, a dangerous secret place, or even a dream or an event, you can extract exclusive entries and build soul cards based on the entries!

Your Jedi doesn’t eat any milk? Tap a “Yingcao” entry directly, triggering a chain effect and slowly recovering life.

You got a top-quality fire-type dragon card, but your natal deck is water-type? Easy to handle, let me know about this “water storage” entry?

What? The summoning conditions for the Alien Chuanghuang Dragon are too difficult, and it is almost impossible to use it in single combat. It can only be used as a war-specific soul card?

Then… Learn about ritual magic? Or simply extract the “Alien” entry directly and create a card group tailored for you!

The magic soul card is not laid out, can’t you prevent it from sticking to your face? The “permanent” entry becomes a turret in seconds, and the infinite fireball method brutally kills!

Encountered strange sea tactics, can’t get in? Directly paste the “resonance” entry, showing textbook-like blasphemy!

…

“I’ve never seen a card maker like Yu Cang. Have you ever seen a soul card that requires three pages of ability introduction? His hands are full of such cards!”

And it all started with Yu Cang being bullied by academics.

- Description from novelbuddy

What is worse than being the worst team in the world?

For Dave Richards that was a very easy but heartbreaking question to answer, a goalkeeper who performed poorly between the sticks, he was still available as a first-choice goalkeeper because Unique FC didn't have any other goalkeeper.

He was slow on his feet, couldn't jump properly and worst of all, he didn't know how to hold the ball properly.

The only way that Unique FC was able to survive taking in a massive goal-fest sometimes was because of the extra effort they put in their defence.

After a terrible match in which Dave wasn't able to make any saves and also made a lot of mistakes, he was seriously scolded by the managerial staff and almost received a beating from his angry teammates.

He got home sad and also angry at all those who told him he looked like his grandfather and would therefore inherit his goalkeeping skills.

He discovered a hidden door below his room and when he got down there the only thing he could see was a black box.

He found the box to be quite familiar and when he opened it the last thing he saw was a bright white light when the light was gone he could see something in his field of vision.

[ Welcome Dave ]

[ You have activated the Goalkeeping system ]

A female voice read out the messages.

This is a story about how an ordinary man who didn't know his place between the sticks went from nothing to pro.

Vampire Slave Number 43, or the self-named, Azriel Ruinous, learned about the history between the humans and the Vampires and it filled him with rage and hatred.

Nonetheless, he was helpless to do anything.

After years and years of suppression, the Vampires have become the weakest race in the world.

However, lady luck seemed to be on his side as Azriel found an ancient jar filled with mysterious blood that will not only change his, but his race's destiny as well.

This, will be the story about the rise of the self-named, Azriel Ruinous, and the Return of the Forgotten Blood Empire.

...

“Have you heard about the rumour?”

“What rumour?”

“They say that there's a Vampire on the loose, he's out there killing humans mercilessly”

“Hahahaha! That's the funniest joke I ever heard! Vampires? Those Slaves? Hahaha!”

“Yeah, I feel the same! I think someone just started this rumour as a joke! Hahaha! How can those weaklings kill us, humans?”

“True True…”

In a bar, two middle-aged men talked and laughed as they discussed the recent rumour they heard.

Seeing those two, a drunk old man shook his head as he sighed.

“Ignorance is bliss indeed…”

“These younglings do not know what the real fear is…

The vampires may have fallen… but my old bones still remember the days when they were in their prime…”

The old man sobered up in an instant and his body shuddered in fear as the memories of the long-forgotten horror appeared in his mind.

He then took a deep breath as he patted his trembling body and muttered.

“I just hope that they are not back…”

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.