1089 Book(s) Related to he called me angel

A hundred years ago, I was the strongest Delta the Silver Moon Pack had ever produced.

Born with the God Bone, unmatched in power, I had Royal Guard recruiters showing up at my door three times, waiting for me to say yes. The whole pack assumed I'd lead them to glory.

Then came that night. My own family dragged me to the altar in the frozen vault.

My mother cried and said, "Lacey was born broken. Without the God Bone, she'll die."

"You're the older sister. You're strong. You'll survive without it."

I refused.

Grant, my fiancé, pulled the knife on me. Brandon, my brother, pinned down my arms and legs. My parents watched from the shadows, saying nothing.

"Don't be so selfish."

They carved the God Bone out of my body, drained every drop of my heart's blood, and threw me into a vault fifty degrees below zero.

My sister took everything that was mine and became the golden girl everyone adored.

A hundred years passed. I became the Supreme Commander of the Royal Guard.

This year, during recruitment, my adjutant handed me the candidate list. I saw a familiar name and smiled. I picked up my pen and crossed it out.

"Doesn't meet the requirements. Denied."

My first love was adopted by our family, and he promised he would always be there for me.
But after my dad passed away in a car accident, I found him with another woman in our bedroom.
He told everyone Caroline was his true love—that he only saw me as a sister—and claimed I was the one who was pestering him.
I was shamed by everyone. The stress gave my mother a stroke, and Caroline even had someone run me over, costing me an eye.
Seven years later, holding flowers, I ran into them outside a convenience store.
Arthur's son looked at me pityingly. "Dad, this lady lost an eye… Is she selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

"Evelyn Drake, are you truly set on joining the FBI as an undercover agent?"
The senior officer Garrett stared intently at the elegantly dressed woman before him, his gaze laced with inquiry and faint doubt.
It was his occupational habit, even a special knack, to categorize everyone he met into distinct social ranks—and he was exceptionally good at it, never once misjudging anyone.
In his eyes, Evelyn Drake, with her flawless makeup and platinum-blonde hair all the way down to the roots, was far from cut out to be an agent.
He had seen countless such pampered wealthy wives throwing petty tantrums. Most would make a scene at the front desk, only to be coaxed home meekly by their rich husbands soon after.
If such a delicate lady were admitted into the FBI, he suspected even the Kevlar bulletproof vest alone would chafe her soft skin raw.
Lost in these thoughts, Garrett let out a disdainful chuckle, his tone brimming with scorn. "Are you really sure? You'd give up your lavish lifestyle to become an FBI agent?"
Sensing his contempt, Evelyn took off her expensive wristwatch and slipped it into her handbag, then nodded firmly at him. "I am absolutely certain."

Seven years ago, my wife and son committed perjury in court, conspiring to send me to a high-security prison, all so they could elope with that fraudster.
Seven years later, I was released.
My ex-wife, with her son, arrogantly tossed a business card onto my faded work clothes:
"Go kowtow to my new husband and apologize, and I'll give you a waiter's job."
Little did she know that just hours later, at a top-tier financial summit across America, her seemingly untouchable new husband was kneeling at my feet like a dog.
And her proud multi-billion dollar empire was nothing more than garbage I could crush with a flick of my finger.

After ten years of being a "consumable," I performed my final maintenance on the very day Vivian handed my life's work over to someone else. I didn’t argue or resist; I just signed the paperwork with a smile. When the Thorne Tower began to collapse floor by floor due to my final permission error, she finally realized that all the brilliance she boasted of was nothing more than the residual warmth I had fed her. Now, she kneels in the ruins, begging me to turn back time. I only find her voice… annoying.

As the extreme cold apocalypse arrives, my most trusted protégé conspires with other shareholders to force me from power. Everyone is watching me become a laughingstock.

Just as I reach the brink of desperation and prepare to sign my resignation, countless scrolling comments suddenly cover my vision.

They're frantically displaying information about the future, such as—in three days, the apocalypse will end...

My squadmates falsely accused me of being a vampire. They poured scalding water over me claiming it was "holy water," spiked my meals with garlic extract, and even splashed me with stinking goat blood. In the end, their madness drove them to plunge a sharpened cross straight into my heart...

A wealthy heir was ordered to seduce me, intending to photograph me in compromising positions to destroy my reputation.
At midnight, his hands trembled as he prepared to send the photos, but I coldly exposed his cowardice and ambition.
That night, he deleted all the evidence before my eyes, his gaze filled with complete fanaticism and submission.
Later, he knelt on one knee with a diamond ring, but I poured myself a drink: "I don't need a partner to share power with—I just need an obedient dog."

I am the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family.
After an unexpected rest, my opponent sent me a street racing invitation.
I went to my brother's company to retrieve my car, but was drugged with ether by my brother's secretary.
She told me that no one could seduce her man.
She kicked my stomach, threatened me with a paper cutter to make a vow, and said her future sister-in-law is the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family—if I dared to retaliate against her, I would die miserably.
I looked at her coldly.
Really?
But I haven't agreed to be your sister-in-law yet!

Not long after I transferred to this school, I became the bullies’ favorite target.
They didn’t like how quiet I was or how pale I looked, so they casually slapped me with a nickname: “vampire.”
It started with shoves in the hallway and jeers in the classroom, escalated to messing with my drink, then stuffing trash into my locker.
They treated my silence as permission and wrapped every provocation in the same excuse: “Just a joke.”
Until that night, when humiliation wasn’t enough. They lured me into a tiny storage room behind the auditorium—locked the door, killed the lights, set up a fixed camera—ready to strap me to a chair and film an “execution” video that would make sure I could never hold my head up at this school again.
What they didn’t know was that the nickname wasn’t a joke. It was the one time they got the truth right.
I really am a vampire.

I am a hero. The saint's husband.
A country boy chosen by the temple.
I fight, I fight, I fight.
All for the saint, for the temple.
But it wasn't until I was drained of blood and dying on the altar that I finally heard clearly what the saint and her childhood sweetheart were saying:
"If you become a hero and marry the saint, you'll have to surrender your soul to the temple. I don't want you to lose your soul."
"Then let's just find some country boy to be the hero. It won't matter if he dies."
Oh, so that's how it is.
You should have said so earlier.
I can defeat the Demon Lord just fine without the saint.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the wedding ceremony.
This time, someone else should be on the altar.

My wife, the most ruthless godmother in New York's underworld, wants a divorce.
The reason? Her male subordinate's old wound has flared up, and he only has three months to live. She wants to accompany him on his final journey as his wife.
To make room for her new lover, she not only doesn't go home, but even allows him to frame me for a fabricated death sentence.
In the dimly lit underground interrogation room, the backlash from deviating from the proper procedures caused my organs to rapidly fail, and I developed a persistent high fever.
Through the iron bars, she looked at my disfigured body, not recognizing me, but coldly raising her gun and giving the order to execute me herself.
She proudly believed that by clearing the way, she could go back and have a grand wedding with the man who was feigning illness.
Until the last shot, when my breathing stopped completely, she saw the old scar on the back of my left hand—the scar from the severed finger I had left for her.
That once arrogant godmother instantly broke down in tears beside my corpse.

In my last life, for the spy I executed, she framed me for treason and injected me with the zombie virus herself.

I died in a dungeon—by the hand of the one I trusted most.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back before it all began.

This time I didn’t interfere. I watched coldly as she got scratched, handed the only dose of serum to the spy, and as the gates swung open and he finally showed his true face.

At last she believed me, kneeling in the dirt, begging for forgiveness.

I looked into her eyes as they clouded over. “I warned you in my last life. You didn’t believe me.”

This life, every blade she wanted for me—lands on her instead.

I was reborn, back to the moment before I was dragged to death by motorcycles in the wasteland.

In my previous life, I listened to the moral blackmail of the saintly female lead Daisy and used my abilities to desperately save a motorcycle gang surrounded by zombies.

As a result, I was severely injured from ability overexertion, and these ungrateful wolves used me as a tool to establish dominance, dragging me to death with motorcycles across the wasteland.

Before I died, Daisy was still there crying: "We tried our best, this isn't our fault."

Now that I have a second chance, she stands before me again shouting:

"Cole! What are you standing there for? Go save them! Those people are going to die! You have abilities, you must save them!"

Looking at her hypocritical saintly face, rage burned in my chest.

Why should my abilities save ungrateful wolves? Why should my life be a stepping stone for others?

The kindness of fools is worthless!

So I threw her out to feed the zombies!

At fifteen, my parents died on their way of volunteer teaching in underprivileged areas. I was adopted by the Miller family’s Don, Vincent and was brought up by himself. For ten years, he hauled me out of the mud, gave me a home, gave me favor no one else got and taught me what a “family” was supposed to mean.
On my eighteenth birthday, I climbed onto his bed and kissed him.
He called me disgusting with a face like ice. Later, he brought Isabella home, forced me to be her bridesmaid, and made me go with her to pick out wedding dresses and jewelry.
One shove from her was all it took for him to lock me in a pitch-black confinement room and he even had the light removed.
That was when I finally understood: everything I had could be taken back from me at any moment.

I took my sister’s place to save my family. Now I am living a life that could destroy me. I never wanted anything to do with the mafia. But when my twin sister vanished without a word, I stepped into her world and became her… the wife of Rowan, a man people fear and never question.
Every day, I live a lie. His son, Dante, looks at me like I am his mother, and something inside me breaks every time he says in a low voice that l look like his mom. But not everyone is fooled.
Rowan’s family watches me too closely. They see what does not belong and they are waiting for me to slip so they can get rid of me for good.
I tell myself I can handle it. That I just need to survive long enough to protect the people I love.
But I am losing control. Because the man I was never meant to love is starting to look at me differently. And the worst part is… I think I am falling for him too.

On the execution platform, my noble and beautiful wife used her dagger to carve open my chest.
My nominal adopted son pressed a red-hot iron into my skin, branding me with the "F"-class mark of the lowest outcast, draining my transcendent bloodline dry.
"The Storm Kingdom has no use for a cripple with zero beast-spirit affinity. You belong rotting in the abyss!"
They cut the chains and kicked me into the Black Abyss—a place from which no one returns—then turned to carve up my throne.
They thought I was as good as dead.
They had no idea that the deepest darkness of that abyss harbored the most terrifying ancient demon in existence.
Two weeks later, as they raised their glasses to toast the new king's coronation, I kicked down the castle gates, wielding the ember-fire of annihilation and a tide of ten thousand beasts.
Looking down at the woman who once stood so high above me, now groveling in the mud and begging for mercy, I tossed the bloodstained broken blade onto the hem of her dress:
"Remember this forever—it was you who took a nobody you crushed beneath your feet and turned him into a king you'll kneel before and never win back. Now, hand over your lives."

In my previous life, my wife was addicted to black market gambling on football, which caused us to lose everything.
To make matters worse, a zombie horde then broke out.
We had no shelter and were quickly torn apart by a horde of frenzied zombies.
After being reborn, she planned to run off with all the money, then dump me and elope with her lover.
What she didn't know was that I had awakened the ability to read minds and knew all her plans.

Married for seven years, I lived my life like an absolute joke.
For the sake of my brother, my wife personally uprooted the roses I had so painstakingly cultivated. To please her uncle, my daughter pointed at my nose and called me a "bad daddy."
The entire family even held a vote to force me to donate my bone marrow. My wife, Elena, raised her hand without a second thought: "You'll just lose a little bone marrow. Liam will die without you."
In that moment, my heart died.
The surgery was a success.
As the anesthesia wore off, Elena was holding my hand tightly. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice trembled with remorse: "Aaron, I was a jerk before. As long as you were willing to save Liam, I will love only you for the rest of my life."
She thought I would be as pathetically grateful as a dog, begging for her affection and humbly forgiving her.
But I merely frowned in disgust and pulled my hand back as if shaking off garbage.
In the dead silence, I looked at this tearful woman before me and asked, politely yet confused:
"Excuse me, ma'am... who are you?"

Three months of fake marriage with my Alpha mate

"Breathe." My body, as if under his command, did as he said
He gently pressed the wet cloth on the corner of my lips, and heat bloomed where he touched, my fingernails digging into his shoulder.
He ran the wet cloth over the swell of my breast, and his eyes turned darker.
My lips parted. He pulled away, curling his fingers into fists, and his neck turned red.
My lower stomach turned into knots.
The tension in the air started to steal my breath, and the room felt extremely hot. The urge to do something almost paralysed me.

Rosette, the red-haired human Princess of the mortal island, rejected her arranged marriage with the Alpha Prince but soon she was framed to kill her former fiancé. While running away, Xen the Alpha of the Crescent Moon Pack saved her. He said she is his mate, but Rosette only wanted to run away to find her witch's mom.

Xen proposed to let Rosette pretend to be his wife for three months and then he will let her go. Rosette agreed. But when the world is involved in the immortal crisis, how will they protect themselves from vampires, witches or Lycans? And will they find the true love hidden in each other’s hearts?

I begged my mom for ten dollars, but she smashed my head with a frying pan instead.

The next day, my mother posted on a forum asking:
"Hi everyone. My eldest son lied about the end of the world just to get ten dollars. I want to ask, how can I sell him on the underground black market to pay off his younger brother's $20,000 debt?"

The moment I saw that post, any remaining love I had for them died instantly. I snapped my phone's SIM card in half.

What she didn’t know was that a world-ending acid flood would descend upon New York tomorrow.

I had begged so bitterly for that ten dollars just to trigger the Ten-Million-Fold Return System to build a three-billion-dollar Doomsday Ark.

Since she didn’t want it, I gave the throne of the Ark Queen to the female classmate who casually tossed me some charity.

He was reborn back to the day his wife Lydia was sacrificed to the demon.

The entire demon race was laughing at me, her useless husband who was about to be thrown into the cursed land, while she, dressed in a pure white robe, rose step by step on my bones and blood, becoming the most beloved saintess of the demons.

She thought I would rot in the ashes, but little did she know that I had swallowed a World Tree seed that had been dormant for ten thousand years in my death.

An enslaved old miner, a blind but gentle apothecary, a desperate mermaid leader... I led eighteen "defective products" chewed up by the abyss, riding the wildly growing tide of life, and forcefully smashed through the demon's royal city!

When the immortal demon king was drained dry by the World Tree and knelt on the ground begging for mercy like a wild dog, my noble wife smiled and raised the sharp obsidian.

"What are demons? This throne belongs only to me."

This is a story of extreme betrayal and violent redemption. When life permeates the demon realm, all the high and mighty evils will turn into dust at the bottom of the trees!

In the apocalyptic wasteland, I started as nothing more than a lowly corpse-devouring bug. But after accidentally swallowing a high-tier crystal core, I was reshaped into a frail human vessel.

Those self-righteous survivors treated me as live bait to draw away the zombie hordes. After bleeding me dry and exploiting me to the absolute limit, they ruthlessly shoved me into a swarming sea of mutated corpses.

They thought they were just sacrificing a piece of trash. Little did they know, they had personally awakened the ultimate apex of cross-species evolution.

The moment I plummeted into the horde, my primal instincts fully awakened. Millions of zombies and subterranean insect swarms bowed to my command. I crushed high-tier monsters with my bare hands and used the sea of undead to steamroll heavily armored legions. With absolute, tyrannical power, I shattered the old order of the wasteland, trampling the once high-and-mighty elites into the mud.

"I'm not here to save humanity. I am merely building a suitably sized terrarium."

As countless infected formed living walls, humanity fell from their throne as the masters of Earth, reduced to nothing more than rare livestock in my captivity.

A high-dimensional ecological experiment has officially begun.

During the shipwreck, my fiancée, to save my "white moonlight" (my unrequited love), forcibly pried open my bleeding fingers and snatched my last life jacket.
"He can't swim, you hold on a little longer."

At that moment, I gave up completely and let myself sink into the cold, deep sea.

Later, I returned from the ashes and became an unapproachable tycoon.

She went bankrupt and became a beggar, but amidst the heavy snow, she watched my wedding of the century, knelt on the street, and breathed her last in remorse.

Belated affection is ultimately worth less than grass.

When the red moon descends, humans become living food.

In this apocalyptic survival battle with no way out, I was trapped on a fallen highway with 300 rifle bullets and the only "living antidote" for all mankind.

Behind them stretched an endless horde of mutated zombies, their hearing ten times sharper; ahead lay a deathly blockade, poised to unleash a second wave of devastating meteors at any moment. The countdown had begun, and teammates fell one after another into pools of blood, desperately providing cover.

Retreat? There's a life-saving vaccine in the trunk; advance? Ahead lies a hopeless dead end with a 100% mortality rate.

I silently chambered the round. Since fate intends for humanity to become extinct, then I'll use firepower to carve a bloody path through them!

Missing for five years, I dragged my slightly crippled left leg back to the slums.

Only to see my once-gentle wife wearing a cheap, fraying apron, being mercilessly humiliated in front of a greasy sink.
My five-year-old son was cowering beside a pile of garbage, clutching a broken toy, trembling in fear.

A high-and-mighty tycoon slapped a three-million-dollar IOU across my face. A thug kicked a plate of rancid, rotting meat scraps to my feet, sneering, "Lick it clean, and I'll waive ten thousand in interest."

Desperate to protect me, my wife pushed me away, only to be brutally kicked into the muddy water by a bodyguard, revealing a back covered in a suffocating, horrific lattice of burn marks and whip scars.

Everyone thought I was just a crippled piece of trash—a useless man who couldn't even protect his own wife and child.
That was, until I reached into my coat and pulled out a black satellite phone that had gathered dust for five years.

"Disable Ghost Silence Protocol. Initiate full takeover."

That night, eight heavy attack helicopters tore through the clouds, blotting out the sky.
Hundreds of fully armed, elite special operatives descended from above. Dropping to one knee in the freezing mud, they roared in unison: "Welcome back, Young Master!"

The entire city’s municipal assets, the police force, the underworld—both the light and the dark—could be reduced to ashes with a single thought from me.

I took off my tattered jacket and draped it gently over my wife's trembling shoulders. Then, I crushed the tycoon's mechanical prosthetic limb with my bare hands. My voice was calm, yet it sent a chilling shockwave through everyone present:

"Three million? I just did the math on the scars you owe my wife..."
"Now, you owe me thirty billion."

In my past life, they drained my blood, kicked me off the rooftop, and said, "Waste doesn't deserve to live."

Reborn into the apocalypse, I opened my palm, and seven beams of primal energy pierced the sky. The woman who cried out "the best in the world" to me just ten minutes ago couldn't even produce a spark now. The brother who wore the boots I sewed and called me trash was being chased and bitten by mutants like a stray dog, his leg broken.

They came to me with memories of their past lives, demanding, "Why did you steal our special abilities?"

In front of thousands of people, I unleashed a net of lightning, scorching those who came to block my way. They knelt in the mud, their heads bleeding from kowtowing; Elena covered her mouth, which had been slapped clean, and David trembled on his single leg, leaning on a rusty steel pipe—yet they couldn't even climb over the iron thorns surrounding my tower.

Later, they rotted into a pile of mud in the arena and among the hordes of corpses, and I didn't even look back.

Until a horde of millions of zombies besieged the city, I went out alone with my sword and shattered the zombie king with a single strike.

The entire ruins knelt down.

They thought I had stolen the light.
No. I was just a fire that burned away what should have been garbage.

Intro: Six hours before the apocalypse, I was reborn. A gray panel now floated before my eyes, showing my physical stats. In the scant time left, I had to use limited supplies to complete the system's tasks, grind levels like mad, gather scattered resources, and build my own doomsday fortress. This time around, I would exact ultimate revenge on all those who had betrayed me.

A torrential downpour of strong acid flooded the city, and mutated sea monsters slaughtered buildings. When Chloe, along with burly men from the rugby team, wielding fire axes, frantically smashed down the door, attempting to burn me alive and steal my bottled water, I had already welded the security door firmly into the load-bearing wall.
Faced with the pried-open door, I didn't waste any words and directly used a 20,000-volt electric spear to pierce the strong man's thigh! Then, I coldly pushed the blood-soaked floor outside.
The pungent smell of blood instantly attracted the skeletal behemoths from the water, turning the corridor into a horrific slaughterhouse. I listened coldly to their desperate screams in front of the monitor.
In this desolate wasteland, you think you can survive by stepping on me? Then feed the monsters with your flesh and blood !

Intro: I spent three years as a logistics mage in the Darkmoon Pack, chasing the wolf clan's female war goddess for a full year. I repaired her armor, mixed her potions, and secretly tucked protective charms inside her gear. She never once looked me in the eye. At the bonfire banquet, after enduring humiliation, I took the initiative to sever ties and walked away. Without my help, she lost everything. When I was reborn and returned, facing the one and only chance to win me back, she finally chose to make the first move.

At a dinner party in a Long Island mansion, my wife, desperate to latch onto a newly minted venture-capital darling, let our five-year-old son smash the gift I’d brought in front of everyone—then waved the keys to a luxury car and made him call another man “Daddy.” With icy arrogance, she slapped a divorce agreement on the table, convinced that a bottom-tier nobody like me would be unable to even put food on the table once I was gone. I didn’t argue. I left only four words—“As you wish”—and walked out in silence.

What she didn’t know was that the business empire she was so proud of stood behind a moat I had built with my own hands, from the shadows. What she knew even less was that the Wall Street titan she tried to cling to in her moment of desperation… was the ex-husband she had always tried to avoid.

When the mirage finally collapsed—when debts buried her and she was dragged down into the mud—she went mad searching for me. In the midst of a blizzard, my ex-wife, dressed in rags, knelt in Times Square, sobbing and begging me to come home. I only raised the window of my Maybach, calm and expressionless, and drove off without looking back—toward a shore she would never reach. Love that comes too late is worth nothing.

For the past ten years, I've been the worst-ranked cleaner in the Hero Association .
The S-class war god regarded me as an ant, wantonly trampling on my dignity on this floor.
Until that day, the SSS-level villain broke out of prison, massacred the headquarters, and the high and mighty gods knelt in pools of blood like dead dogs, howling in despair.
I silently picked up the mop and walked up to the arrogant villain: "You've dirtied my floor, please cooperate with the cleaning."
The next second, the concept vanished, reduced to ashes! The entire audience was shocked: "I told you to mop the floor, and you wiped the villain away?!"

Intro: When she found the wolf cub, she touched him and saw a vision—the grown version of him standing atop a mountain of corpses, ten thousand wolves prostrate at his feet. She named him Little King. Sixteen years. She taught him to fight, to control his transformation, to ride atop pain. The first full sentence he ever learned was "Whoever hurts you, I'll kill." On a blizzard night, he curled up at her door and kept watch through the whole night, just to say, "I was afraid you'd be cold." She almost said, "Don't leave me." But what came out in the end was something else.

At the red carpet event, Maddie, my partner of three years, in an attempt to curry favor with a popular male star, publicly humiliated me, trampling on my foot and yelling, "Ethan, you're just a backstage errand boy

. Don't interfere with Ryan's shots. Go back to carrying materials." The whole room burst into laughter; everyone thought I was a lowly sycophant forced to swallow my humiliation.

But I didn't get angry. I calmly took out my tablet, cut off all her studio's basic permissions with a single click, and immediately sent the irrefutable evidence of her breach of contract to the brand's legal department.

Three minutes later, she was completely stripped of her control and faced a multi-million dollar claim for breach of contract.

At first, she thought I was just acting out of spite, that a little charity would win me back. It wasn't until the day her assets were forcibly liquidated and she was completely blacklisted from the industry that she desperately realized: for the past three years, she had only been able to sit at the table because of my charity.

Later, shamelessly, she crawled through garbage cans, barefoot, to the airport, knelt before my bulletproof Maybach, and begged me to come back.

As for me, I simply walked onto the private jet surrounded by executives from top European conglomerates.

At the Waldorf Astoria in Manhattan, my ex-husband threw champagne all over me, and my wife publicly called me a "gold digger."

I held the tray, silent, like a clown being punished.

Three years ago, I lived in anonymity with her in a basement, cooking and doing laundry for her, all because of the pure stubbornness in her eyes.

In return, she embraced her father's killer and trampled me into the mud.

The divorce agreement was signed quickly, and she got into a Porsche with her enemy.

I laughed.
The next day, a Maybach pulled up in front of the law firm, escorted by eight bodyguards. The sole heir to the oldest conglomerate on the East Coast had returned.

While she was watching the cheap TV in the supermarket, seeing me marry a European princess, she was kneeling in front of a cold shelf, being verbally abused by a homeless man over a moldy potato.

In my past life, I was betrayed by my fiancée and my tycoon boss, and thrown alive into a mutated swarm to be torn apart.

When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn fifteen days before the multidimensional catastrophe! Facing my vain ex-boyfriend who was still threatening to break off our engagement and buy me luxury bags, I sneered and decisively blocked him, instantly awakening a "Beast-Level Infrastructure System."

Hoarding supplies in the apocalypse? Too narrow-minded! I directly infiltrated the polar regions with my geeky best friends, tampered with central permissions, and seized my tycoon boss's invincible fortress—a multi-billion dollar investment with a nuclear reactor!

When the catastrophe erupted and gravity collapsed, my boss and ex-girlfriend, dragging their mangled bodies, knelt outside the ten-meter-thick tungsten steel door, frantically kowtowing, begging to be brought in as dogs. I, however, holding a Romanée-Conti, coldly pressed the gravity strangulation button.

The Abyss Era, the Old Gods are all dead. On this wasteland, only I sit high on my icy throne, establishing absolute laws.

The wife in the cryogenic chamber had only three minutes left.

I had an iron hook pierce my collarbone, and my knees shattered while kneeling at a lavish banquet. Wine glasses smashed at my feet, flashbulbs were pointed at my face, and everyone was laughing—the former war god of the North, now less than a dog.

Victor stomped on the remote control and smashed it.

When the red light of the three-minute countdown popped up, I raised my head. The sealing nails on my shoulders were blasted away by the qi, and what surged from the dark golden depths of my eyes made the entire building tremble.

He crushed over a hundred mercenaries with a single punch.

He tore open the alloy gate with his bare hands.

One hundred thousand black-armored demons knelt down from the darkness, and their commander cut off his own arm to plead guilty.

I pressed the full-frequency communication button, draped in a blood-patterned cloak: "Seven days. Make the three great empires hand over the restorative herbs. If even one herb is missing—wipe out the entire nation."

He knelt before his wife, he fought his way through the world for her. The moment she awoke was the beginning of this world paying its debt.

"You good-for-nothing should get out and save your food rations. I'll use your truckload of supplies for you!"

The man-eating scarlet spores swept through the town. My good brother locked the security door tightly and locked me in the corridor filled with blood mist.

He stared intently at me through the peephole, waiting to see the horrific sight of my internal organs being drained by the fungus.

But a second before I was devoured by the spores, I hid in my personal space and with a single thought drained the last drop of water and every grain of rice from the room.

Three days later, in this impregnable "vacuum tomb".

When he was so thirsty that he swallowed blood, and knelt on the ground desperately pounding on the door.

I kicked the door open, tied him up with nylon rope, and hung him upside down in the blood-red storm outside the window.

In the apocalyptic freeze, temperatures plummeted to seventy below zero. The earth was encased in ice, and ice beasts roamed everywhere.

I risked my life to scavenge for food, covered in wounds, enduring cold and hunger, leaving all our meager supplies for my parents and brother.

I thought blood was thicker than water, that all the suffering and hardship was worth it.

But I never imagined that when our resources ran out, the family I'd protected with my life would reveal their true beastly nature. They ambushed and knocked me unconscious, tied me to an ice pillar, planning to use me as food rations—to eat me alive.

At the moment of near death, the ice jade my grandfather left me suddenly shattered. I awakened top-tier ice abilities, commanding frost and snow, controlling the extreme cold.

My kindness had been frozen to death by the bitter cold. Family meant nothing.

Those who betrayed me, deceived me, and tried to eat me—I wouldn't spare a single one.

After catching my girlfriend and my most hated nemesis in bed together, they ruthlessly pushed me down the stairs.

When I woke up again, the world had gone completely mad.

My girlfriend who betrayed me and my arrogant nemesis have both awakened "superpowers".

And I became a "useless" person without any special abilities, trampled under their feet.

But only my mutated eyes saw through the truth: it wasn't a gift of evolution at all, but a horrifying parasite crawling on their spines and sucking their brains! And my high and mighty nemesis was the swarm mother that was trying to devour all of humanity.

They laughed at me for being a worthless, honest man, unaware that my blood was a deadly poison capable of burning these monsters to ashes.

In an incredibly realistic precognitive dream, my vampire stepparents and nominal brother cruelly pushed me off the second floor to feed the zombies for half a moldy loaf of bread.

I opened my eyes to find less than 72 hours until the full-blown apocalypse!

To hell with hypocritical family ties! In this life, I decisively spent money to buy a shelter, unexpectedly awakening my spatial abilities! With a thought, I remotely emptied the largest warehouse supermarket in the entire state, and even used tens of tons of heavy steel plates to build an indestructible doomsday fortress!

When the zombie horde descended, order collapsed. I sat in my absolutely safe fortress, eating a tomahawk steak, watching the brutal family of three on the monitor, driven mad by hunger, even killing each other and cannibalizing flesh for half a biscuit.

They knelt in the blood-soaked floor, desperately crying and begging me to open the door and give them alms.

My fingertips danced with violent lightning power as I coldly hung up the phone: "The door is welded shut. You can enjoy hell outside!"

With only three days left until the apocalyptic fungal outbreak, my ordinarily strict father unexpectedly took out a million-dollar loan from a loan shark, transferred it to my account, and issued an absolute order: "Buy supplies, build a fortress, and even if you die, do not open that door!"

Staring at the seven-figure balance, I grabbed a liquor bottle, shattered the nose of the school bully who used to torment me, and instantly kicked off a frantic hoarding spree. I bought out a penthouse on the 50th floor, welded on a bank-vault-grade blast door, and stockpiled an endless supply of Tomahawk steaks and a massive arsenal of weapons.

When the disaster finally struck, the once-arrogant rich kids downstairs were reduced to bloody fodder for the monsters. The starving school bully knelt outside my door, tearing into his own companions just for a leftover bone. Meanwhile, separated by bulletproof glass, I sipped an ice-cold cola and coldly enjoyed the show.

Just as a massive horde of the infected surrounded the building, my parents unexpectedly arrived in a Unimog heavy armored vehicle armed to the teeth, crushing through the sea of corpses in a dominant rescue. With our family reunited and packing heavy firepower, we violently tore open our own path of rampage across this scorched wasteland!

Everyone envied me—a penniless orphan who married into a wealthy family. My husband, Gabriel Sterling, is handsome, charming, and filthy rich.
But what they don’t know is, our marriage is nothing but a show. We share a bed, but not dreams or words. To the world, he’s the perfect husband, but at night, he calls out another woman’s name in his sleep.
Even after I gave him twins, I couldn’t thaw his icy heart.
So I filed for divorce, taking the mighty CEO to court.
I left everything behind—kids, money, the mansion—just to cut him off for good. For the first time, I saw fear in the eyes of a man who always had everything under control.
After I walked away, he was left with crying babies and a cold, empty bed. Without me, his luxury villa was nothing but soulless concrete.
By the time he realized he’d fallen for his ex-wife, I’d already become the heiress he could never reach.
When we met again, I looked at him and said calmly, “Mr. Sterling, if you want to chase me, get in line. You should go home and take care of the kids.”
He held a child in each arm, smiling faintly. “They’re too little to be without their mom. I’m giving them back to you.”
As the servants carried the twins’ luggage inside, he popped out of a giant box and grinned shamelessly, “I’m their life-sized toy. Or you can think of me as a smart robot—with free bed-warming service included.”

Intro: At Cavendish Manor, wishes are real. So is the price. The moment one hundred million dollars hit his account, Leo started grinning, drooling, his skin turning gray. His father looked at him without a single tear, straightened his tie, and said: I want my company to be number one in the world. Twelve heirs, one after another, spoke their wishes. Money. Power. Beauty. With each wish, the shadows on the ceiling grew darker. I'm just an ordinary exorcist. None of that interests me. I only want to protect my client and push back against that invisible thread of fate.

Intro: Reborn three years into the past, I watched coldly as my scheming ex-girlfriend and my so-called sworn brother got together—the same two who had conspired to frame me in my past life. They had no idea that in all of Silvermist City, I was the only one who could devour dragonbone shards—if that certain lady wanted to survive, she would have to kneel and beg me to fall in love with her again. And my dear brother, who'd sweet-talked his way into the royal box? He probably hadn't calculated how many seconds that golden voice of his could burn for.

In this era of universal awakening, I've drawn the most tragic "BOSS" route.

For the sake of my fiancée Celine's guild, I signed an exclusive binding agreement. For four whole years, I was treated like an ATM for loot drops, and was mercilessly killed 2173 times.

When Celine led 137 elite members of her guild, armed with a permanent kill item, to stab me in the heart, preparing to dig out my core to pave the way for her new love, she thought she was about to usher in the supreme glory of being the first to kill me on the entire server.

But what she didn't know was that the hidden max-level reward for the BOSS route was "system administrator privileges".

The sword tip stopped at my chest, freezing time across the entire server. I looked at the greedy traitor before me, smiled, and pressed the "Level Reset" button.
"Sorry, this game is now in my hands."

Strip away god-tier equipment and wipe out max-level accounts. This time, I will bring down the reigning number one in the entire server, making him start from level 1 in the newbie village and personally pay the price for those two thousand bloody battles!

To save my sister, I humbly married into her family, only to be treated like a parasite by my ex-wife, who was worth billions, and suffered endless humiliation.

When she stopped giving my sister her life-saving medication for her male best friend, I was completely desperate. On a snowy night, I plunged off a cliff with my car, and my body was never recovered.

It wasn't until the police presented her with her charred belongings and the truth about how I risked my life to save her that the once aloof woman went completely insane.

Three years later, I rose from the ashes as a multi-billionaire, while she knelt at my feet like a dog, begging and pleading, "Please... just look at me one more time..."