239 Book(s) Related to angel buddy all chapters

I endured in silence for five years, and everyone treated me like worthless trash. My wife sacrificed our daughter for vanity, my in-laws called me bottom-tier scum, and a senator wanted me dead to divide up my fortune. They thought I was just an ant they could trample at will. Until I produced the Supreme Commander's immunity medallion, until armed helicopters hovered above the courthouse, until I forcibly hijacked the national broadcast, they finally realized what kind of existence they had provoked. I am "Night Asura"—the one man in this world who should never be crossed.

My brother chose my enemy, and the man I loved joined forces with her to sell me into a club.
Pregnancy, miscarriage, imprisonment, beatings—every cry for help I made was dismissed as "just an act."
It wasn't until I was truly dead that they lost their minds, dropping to their knees at my grave and sobbing that they were sorry.
But by then, I could no longer hear them.

Nine months pregnant and about to give birth, my husband Zane locked me in the wine cellar.
All because his widowed business partner, Elena, was also giving birth today.
"You almost made Elena go into labor early. You need to think about what you've done."
Agonizing contractions wracked my body. I dropped to my knees, begging him, "Zane, please─the baby is coming now! He will die!"
He just shoved me down the cold stone steps, his eyes icy cold.
"Stop lying! Your due date isn't today. You'll do anything for attention, won't you?"
"Tonight, only Elena's safety matters. You'll stay here until you admit you were wrong!"
The heavy wooden door slammed shut, snuffing out the last bit of hope I had left.
Hours later, Zane was cradling Elena's newborn son, calling the maid.
"Elena had a boy. I couldn't be happier. Let my wife out—I'm willing to forgive her little tantrum today."
But on the other end of the phone, the maid was sobbing.
"Sir... your wife and the baby... they're already gone."

In my past life, my wife was in a car accident and became a vegetable.

I bankrupted myself trying to save her, going from billionaire to homeless vagrant.

When I finally died mysteriously in prison, I understood the truth:

My wife had been faking her coma all along. She wanted to steal my fortune with her lover—my own brother.

But now I've been reborn.

"Since she's already dead, let's harvest all her organs for donation," I told the doctor.

In my last life, my parents favored my younger brother. They promised him to the angel who would remain on the surface, and shoved me to an abyssal demon.
When the apocalypse came, the angel burned through her divine power and fell. I took my family in out of kindness, and they repaid me with a bowl of poisoned soup.
When I opened my eyes again, our whole family had reincarnated.
This time, my parents couldn’t wait to push my brother into the demon’s arms, dreaming of living off him inside the abyssal lair.
I watched them sign the shadow contract like they were grabbing a priceless treasure, then took the rejected holy-light angel without hesitation.
They had no idea the Abyss’s shelter is paid for in flesh and blood.
But an angel’s loyalty can raise an iron divine kingdom that never falls, even in this world-ending flood.

I used to believe the most beautiful sound in the world was a baby's first cry.

Until I watched my three children die, one by one, at the hands of a woman with the sweetest smile.

Her name was Isabella, my husband's cousin. She would tenderly offer tissues after my miscarriages, frantically call for help when I fell down the stairs, thoughtfully make soup to comfort me after I lost each child.

She was such a talented actress. So convincing that even my mafia don husband said, "Isabella is more suited to be the lady of this house than you are."

But they didn't know—

A docile sheep, once it learns the wolf's rules, becomes far more dangerous than any real wolf.

When Dominick smashed Antonio's skull with the holy chalice, when Isabella screamed through her miscarriage in the basement, when blood splattered across the Virgin Mary's face...

I was frozen for 100 years due to illness.
One hundred years later, the whole world was ravaged by strange phenomena, and humanity was huddled together in a few small places to survive.
I was awakened from my slumber by the investigation team. I thought I would be killed by the monster as soon as I woke up, but I found that the monster here was my good brother from college.
Besides him, the eerie owner of the barbecue restaurant, the matchmaking ghost who likes to harm people through blind dates, the S-class monstrous ghost in the cemetery... they are all my old friends...
The world a hundred years from now feels strangely familiar...

The apocalypse is not a natural disaster, but a man-made one.

When the T-virus swept through London like a curse, and when my former love and brothers tore off their disguises at the last moment, I realized that the most terrifying thing in this world has never been zombies, but the human heart.

They thought they had tricked me, that abandoning me would get them a ticket to the safe house.

They don't know that I was reborn.

In my past life, my kindness became a weapon in the hands of demons; in this life, I will make the betrayers send themselves to hell.

When the apocalypse came, my materialistic ex-girlfriend not only complained that I only knew how to play games, but also conspired with relatives to poison me, cruelly steal my superpower crystal core, and degrade me into a hopeless cripple!
She thought that by taking away my power she could curry favor with the powerful and live a carefree life, but little did she know that not only did I not die, but the "League of Legends max level system" in my mind had actually completed its ultimate upgrade!
Sylas uses his ultimate to regain his power, Pyke's X-shaped slash breaks his enemy's limbs; a horde of 100,000 zombies presses in, and the whole city is in despair, when I descend from the sky with my treasure girl who is my life partner!
Pantheon's slam, Miss Fortune's barrage, Ziggs's nuke... Five LOL ultimate moves in a row wiped out the entire field, evaporating 100,000 zombies in one minute and directly ascending to the throne of the wasteland god!
Looking at my stunningly beautiful and god-level support character whom I had spoiled rotten, my ex-girlfriend, who had fallen into the mire, was filled with remorse. She knelt in the sewage, kowtowing and crying, begging to be a foot-washing maid.
I looked down at them and sneered, "Sorry, my five-player squad is already full."

At the company's annual client appreciation dinner, I was the one in charge of booking the venue.
To save the company money, I picked my aunt's upscale restaurant with a skyline view. Since we were family, she only charged us at cost. When I posted the details in our Slack channel to confirm with the team, no one had any objections—except for the intern, who slowly tagged me in the chat:
[Arthur, I don't mean anything by it.]
[I just want to ask—how big a kickback did you get for booking your family's restaurant?]
[After all, the money for this dinner is coming out of our bonus pool.]
[So you should return that money to the rest of us, right?]
The other coworkers started liking the message and chiming in to support him.
So I dropped the whole thing on the spot and handed the task over to that intern, who loved talking about "fixing workplace injustice."
Then the night of the dinner came.
From the CEO all the way down to the investors, everyone was pinned on the deck and searched by armed Coast Guard officers.
The most important client contact collapsed from a heart attack on the spot and was airlifted by helicopter straight to the ICU, costing the company a multimillion-dollar enterprise cybersecurity contract.

I'm a folklorist. Folk traditions are my field.
At first, I thought it was just an ordinary rhyme, a scrap of oral history set to a tune.
"A rag doll in the mire, swinging high up to the sky..."
We all thought it was just a prank.
Until the first person drowned in the bog. Then the second fell from a tower crane. Then the third somehow drowned in a bathtub.
I stared at the black symbol surfacing on the back of my hand.
And then I saw the dean—the one who was supposed to be dead—standing outside my dorm window in a long black dress, smiling at me with impossible tenderness...

When the music building floods, Elena Rossi is relocated to a private box in the university hockey arena, only to have her sanctuary shattered by hockey captain Julian Vane. Tasked with tutoring him to save his spot on the team, she reluctantly agrees but only if their arrangement includes a public charade: pretending to date. As their staged romance grows dangerously real, a shadow from Elena’s past threatens everything. Amid late-night practices, stolen moments, and escalating danger, they must confront trust, fear, and their hearts or risk losing it all.

The king is cursed. They say his touch burns. They say no bride survives him.
So when they forced me into another woman’s place, I thought I was being sent to my death.
I was wrong. He touched me… and I didn’t burn.

Now the most dangerous man in the empire won’t let me out of his sight. He watches me. Tests me. Touches me like he’s trying to prove I’m real.

If he discovers I’m nothing but a servant, I’ll be executed.
But if he doesn’t… I might become his queen.
And the longer I stay, the more I realize. The curse isn’t just his.
It’s ours.

Three years after her wedding day, Vanessa remains a virgin. Her sickly, cruel husband, the Duke of Tarrick demands she produces an heir with a man of his choosing.
Vanessa’s choices are narrowing every day. To refuse leaves her penniless and alone for when the cruel Duke dies his estate passes elsewhere.
To submit would see her honor surrendered to the new stablehand Fitz. His sparkling green eyes might match her husband, but his cocky, arrogant attitude riles her. He sees no value in her titles and riches, seeking only to enjoy life’s opportunities. Including sleeping with a famously beautiful Duchess.
The added risk of snooping on servants and family scandal suggests Vanessa should stick to her husband's strict rules and simply endure what has been arranged.
But what if giving away her honor to such a casual rogue is the spark that makes her bland world finally explode into life?

Evangeline Atkins is a promising violinist. Although she lives with her addicted mother in a trailer park, it doesn’t make her go the wrong way. So when there is a recital, where there are possibilities of important contacts to play in other countries, she turns to the only person she has in life. Your mother.
The woman who uses almost all the money in her vices, says that she can not help her. When the girl is accepting the idea that her life will be stagnant living in that trailer, her mother makes her a proposal.
There would be a party at the mansion where they worked as a maid and needed people to help. She would take Evangeline to earn that extra money on one condition. She could not under any circumstances, go to the second floor of the house and enter the left room.
Being the curious girl she has always been, Evangeline goes up and enters the room where she shouldn’t. That simple act will awaken the desire of newcomer and mobster Alec Castello who will use all his money and ruse, to make Evangeline yours and yours alone.

Emma is the unfavoured adopted daughter of the Quinsley family. She was just a pitiful little girl who had to live under someone else's roof.

And Archie, son of the richest man in the country, tall, handsome, cold and evil.

Initially, There was no way that their fates would have crossed. However, due to a coincidence, Emma had become Archie's wife.

Emma had initially thought that she was only being used by him, but he would actually be a wife-doting man!

Whoever dared to bully her would be annihilated by him! He was highly overbearing outside, yet he was more like a hungry wolf in bed.

She couldn't bear it any longer and wanted to escape, but he blocked her. He lovingly asked, "Wife, you're already pregnant with my child. Where do you think you could escape to?"

A love story where pride makes it hard to listen, and prejudice harder to acknowledge feelings. A young college student (Rose) who seeks nothing but perfection, tries to avoid the pain we taste once in love, acting like she has philophobia. She meets a guy (Sam) who'll come into her life like a thunder, surprisingly but doesn't leave as easy nor as quickly, instead her world flips upside down, making her question everything she once stood for.

In ordinary teenage life, Chris, a 16-year-old, encounters Abbey, a new girl who brings change and potential. However, Josh, a charismatic peer, lures Chris towards a treacherous path. As temptation looms, Chris strives to gather the 'Fallen' to combat corruption. They embark on a journey through realms, solving puzzles, and seeking to free an imprisoned fallen angel. Betrayals test their resolve, yet a resilient reunion reignites their unity, even in hell. Unveiling connections to ancient fallen angels, they confront God to save humanity's existence. This epic saga explores bonds, cosmic trials, and the eternal clash of light and darkness, revealing the strength of unity and the enduring human spirit.

After returning from work, Clarissa found out hee husband and her sister was having an affair. Broken, she couldn’t stop herself from being noticed.

She found out she was being poisoned and she couldn’t stop their conspiracy as Lilly hit her with a chair which caused her death.

She wished desperately for a second chance before her breath dropped. She opened her eyes to a flash of light which turned out to be cameras where she realized she was in a press conference 3 years ago.

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..."

In my last life, I was killed by the wife I loved most. Reborn once again—will I fail this time too? When magic that sweeps across the world descends, in this life, love finally breaks through the curse.

I spent ten years turning a thug into a top boxer, but he and my wife kicked me out of the game, mocking me for "not understanding business and being outdated."

I didn't argue, and turned around to pick up a homeless man who had fought in underground boxing matches on the roadside.

A year later, the homeless man's apprentice knocked out the defending champion with one punch and won the gold belt; while that ingrate who betrayed me was beaten into a cripple in the underground boxing ring.

The geniuses you all think they are are nothing more than half-finished products under my tutelage!

Seven days before the doomsday outbreak, the wild weeds by the road spoke to me: The zombies are coming.
I rushed home, intending to take my fiancée and flee for our lives.
But outside the door, I overheard her plotting with her boss on the sofa, scheming to drain all my wealth.
"He’s just an orphan with no family or connections. No one would care even if he dies."
I didn’t push the door open.
Instead, I quietly cashed out all my assets overnight and built an impenetrable island fortress without delay.
Seven days later, the zombie hordes surrounded the city.
She and her entire family were chased by the monsters, covered in blood and mangled.
They knelt frantically kowtowing and begging for help right outside my explosion-proof gate.
I coldly locked the door tight.
"You were right," I said. "No one really cares if you die. Just go in peace."

Intro: I'm an S-Class superhuman, but I was locked in a basement for five full years, subjected to inhuman abuse and torment. All they wanted was to drain my blood and energy dry. I once believed that if I could just endure it all, I would see my family again. Until my wife Valen's voice came through the intercom and revealed that it was all a lie. I will turn my fury into strength and tear it all apart with my own hands.

At minus sixty degrees Celsius, my girlfriend of three years and my childhood friend teamed up to push me out of the bomb shelter and beat me to death in the snowstorm.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back fifteen days before the extreme cold arrived, and my phone had a new "Doomsday Farm" app.

Rapidly growing mutant crops and an infinitely large, temperature-controlled warehouse became my biggest trump card for rebirth.

Faced with two people who came with luggage under the pretense of "accompanying me" but actually plotted to seize the property rights of my underground research institute, I calmly turned them away, sold all my properties in the city, and headed straight for the suburbs with a huge sum of money.

Within fifteen days, I welded the abandoned research institute into a heavily insulated steel fortress.

When the epic cold wave arrived ahead of schedule, those who had betrayed me were trapped in an old apartment without water or gas, tearing each other apart over a tattered quilt.

I'm sitting in a 20-degree underground farm, eating hot stewed beef, drinking hand-drip coffee, and quietly watching them on the monitor slowly turn into ice sculptures.

In this life, having let go of my desire to help others, I simply want to live comfortably in this Ice Age.

Fourteen years. I guarded every line on the East Coast for Victoria's crime family. Six weeks. A young newcomer took away every ounce of my authority. Victoria said, "There's no need to be so sensitive." I understood her choice. I took off my ring in the council chamber, and walked away.

In order to prolong the life of my supposedly sick "white moonlight" (my love interest), my wife forced me onto the operating table and removed my kidney while I was still alive.

To force me to leave with nothing, she even cut off my mother's medication, coldly declaring, "Your mother is just a liability that deserves to be optimized."

She thought I would wag my tail and beg for mercy like a stray dog.

Little did she know, suffering from single kidney failure, I transformed myself into the deadliest viral code before my death, dragging her business empire and that male mistress into an inescapable hell.

On the day the truth came to light, the once-powerful tech queen went completely mad. She squandered her fortune, kneeling in the frost of the morgue, kowtowing and weeping blood, begging me to look at her one last time. But she couldn't find a single hair of mine.

Because I had already made a will, ordering my remains to be cremated as high-risk medical waste.

She treated me like dirt when she was alive, and after she died, I found her disgusting and didn't even bother to leave her a handful of ashes.

To honor a vow to "protect her for a lifetime," I used my flesh and blood to shield her from a fatal impact in a deadly car crash. My heart was severely shattered, leaving me barely clinging to life with a pacemaker.

Concealing my identity for five years, I single-handedly dragged her from bankruptcy and crowned her the new royalty of Wall Street.

Yet, on the eve of her IPO, just to curry favor with a powerful tycoon, she knocked away my life-saving medicine, forced me to kneel and shine shoes in public, and finally kicked my gravely ill body out into a sub-zero Brooklyn blizzard.

My dying pleas for help only earned her impatient mockery: "Save your playing dead tricks for the ghosts."

When my pacemaker completely shattered in the howling snow, that submissive Arthur died.

Armed gunships descended, and a military-grade tactical heart violently rebooted my pulse! When I opened my eyes again, I was the Supreme Commander who cast terror over the global underground.

When I crushed her capital empire with a single hand and the truth was finally revealed, she knelt in the muddy rain, frantically slapping her own face, sobbing and screaming to give her life back to me.

I flicked the ash from my cigar, my gaze as cold as looking at trash: "My wife died in the blizzard. You are just a stranger who crawled up by stepping on half my life."

Here is the English translation, tailored to match the gritty, dramatic, and satisfying tone typical of apocalyptic revenge web novels:

In my previous life, I was drained to the bone by the so-called "Doomsday Evolution System," forced to watch as my best friend and fiancée stepped over my corpse to scavenge my supplies.

When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to exactly three days before the apocalypse. When that faint blue, glowing "cheat" materialized once more, I decisively took a step back, watching my enemies fanatically claim it for themselves. They thought they had grasped the key to ruling the doomsday. Little did they know, they had just swallowed a parasite that would devour its host.

Then, the extreme cold descended, and toxic spores blotted out the sky.

Using my knowledge of the future, I struck a deal with a female black-market boss, packing an underground bunker with tons of supplies and heavy firepower. Sipping hot coffee in front of the control room monitors, I sat back and enjoyed the show. I watched my enemies be systematically stripped of their sanity, sacrifice their companions, and ultimately degenerate into mindless, mutated lumps of flesh driven only by base instincts.

In this man-eating apocalypse, I refuse to touch any bizarre parasitic "gifts." Thick alloy doors and an endless supply of ammunition—that is the only true law of survival in the wasteland.

On the eve of the apocalypse, I awakened a survival system: send me $5,000, and the sender can unlock a safehouse and awaken a life-saving ability.
The first person I told was Chloe, my girlfriend of three years. In return, she humiliated me in public and cheated on me without a shred of remorse.
That was the moment I finally gave up. The "nice guy" she had drained dry was dead for good.
One month later, the zombie horde arrived right on schedule. For old times' sake, I saved her one last time. And she repaid me by shoving me straight into the jaws of the mutated dead so she could save herself.
What she didn't know... was that I wasn't the only one who had awakened powers.

To atone for my fallen brothers, I concealed my identity and willingly played the role of a worthless loser in the eyes of my influencer wife.

I swallowed her endless abuse and the humiliation from her wealthy new suitor. I thought that by dragging my dignity through the mud, I could finally buy peace for my soul.

Until that day. Desperate for livestream traffic, she and her crew violently smashed down my door. She shattered the pocket watch left behind by my comrade's mother. She threw the casualty list—stained with the blood of my Special Forces unit—into the filthy water, trampling it underfoot while hundreds of thousands of netizens mocked me online.

They had no idea that every single name on that ledger was once a sharp blade that guarded this nation.

Staring at the soiled hero's insignia, I finally realized that submission would never bring redemption. I wiped the mud from the relics and dialed a long-dormant encrypted terminal:

"Operation 'Reckoning'—initiate full activation."

Since a shield can no longer protect my faith, it is time to draw the sword of judgment.

My wife was forced to don a wedding dress to marry my sworn enemy, while my three-year-old daughter was locked in an iron cage suspended above the raging sea.

And I, the dignified Commander-in-Chief of the Blackwater Fleet, was forced to wear a dog collar, kneeling on broken glass and licking up red wine like a crippled stray dog.
All because embedded in their necks were biological bombs, the detonator held in the hands of my enemy.

The elites of the entire island ruthlessly mocked my cowardice, trampling me underfoot in ultimate humiliation.

That was until the climax of the maritime wedding, when my enemy smugly pressed the detonator, only for the collars to flash a safe green light—the full-frequency signal decryption was complete.
Amidst the dead silence of the crowd, I snapped the forged steel chains binding me and slowly stood tall.

The next second, ten nuclear-powered submarines violently breached the ocean surface, and tens of thousands of heavily armored death squads descended from the sky.

Looking at my enemy, now terrified to the point of incontinence and shattering his own knees to frantically kowtow and beg for mercy, I picked up that very dog chain and slipped it around his neck.

When the apocalypse arrived, my girlfriend, driven by vanity, exposed my unlimited resource space and incited starving people to kill me and feed me to the zombies, while she herself stepped on my flesh and blood to become the "savior goddess".
But she didn't know that I mutated amidst the pile of corpses and awakened into the only zombie tyrant.
I corrupted the space, cut off food supplies, led a horde of tens of thousands of zombies to besiege the city, and threw a bounty at the starving mob: "Use her flesh and blood to exchange for a bite to eat."
Watching the once-lofty Mother Teresa torn to pieces, kneeling at my feet weeping and begging for mercy, I laughed. Moral blackmail? Sorry, I'm the Zombie King now.

While I was being kidnapped, tortured, and murdered in the horse stable of our own family farm, my all-powerful chaebol fiancée was helping my green tea younger brother try on wedding attire.
Before dying, with my broken, blood-stained finger, I dialed the last desperate call for help.
On the other end of the phone, her tone was filled with scorn and impatience: "Vincent, can't you even tolerate a little grievance from your younger brother? Let's just cancel the engagement, and I'll replace you with him as the groom."
Later, I truly died.
My soul drifted in mid-air, watching coldly as the whole family thought I was faking death to make a scene. My older sister even kicked over my disfigured body on the haystack in disgust: "Get up right now, stop pretending to be pitiful here!"
Until the flashlight's beam completely illuminated my ghastly, rigid face, and the shattered phone screen, still stuck on the moment she hung up, clutched tightly in my dead hand...
That forever aloof, arrogant female CEO finally went weak in the knees, kneeling in the foul-smelling, blood-soaked filth, and utterly lost her mind.

My wife had an affair.
Not only that, she casually indulged her lover over the phone, allowing him to crush the bones of my right hand, known as the "Hand of God," right in front of our six-year-old child, with a stomp of his shoe. I could never hold a tool again.
Natalie thought I was just a poor, pathetic loser earning a dead-end salary, so she brazenly let her gigolo trample all over me.
But what she had no idea of was that her proud identity as a transnational female CEO was merely a toy casually tossed to her by the top old-money family I belong to in New York.
When dozens of bulletproof armored vehicles smashed through the gates and my father, the patriarch, descended like the god of death, her arrogant self finally crumbled like a stray dog.
She screamed and jumped into the icy, bone-chilling lake to retrieve the diamond ring I had discarded, wailing and begging to chop off her own hand to compensate me.
But I just held the stunning British Duchess in my arms, watching coldly as she fell into an abyss of eternal damnation.
This love, tainted with shit, whoever wants it can have it!

In the seventh year of being a stay-at-home husband, I discovered the son I cherished as the most precious treasure in my life was actually the illegitimate child of my wife and her male best friend.
To conceal the scandal of her infidelity, my CEO wife, worth millions, joined forces with her male best friend in a grand deception. They single-handedly destroyed my artistic career, transforming me into a free nanny raising their illegitimate child.
Upon learning the truth, I didn't lose my composure.
I calmly presented the divorce papers and the paternity test report proving no biological relation, then turned and walked away without looking back.
Later, that ever-lofty wife, the one who had once publicly doused me with ice water for her male best friend, was utterly consumed by regret and fury.
She kicked the scoundrel to the curb. In front of a crowd, she pressed a switchblade to her own throat, casting aside all dignity to kneel on the ground, crying and begging me to look at her just once more.
I didn't even blink. My voice was as cold as ice. "If you want to die, do it outside. Don't ruin my mood for coffee."

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.