Nie Weiyang, male, half-vampire, never-hidden number one on the battle power rankings, former assassin now Paladin, defender of Zhongzhou, player, world boss... To be honest, I don't have much personal work, mainly responsible for rescuing people, killing people, leaping and slashing evil gods, and saving the world. "...They say you have a moral level beyond the current era, and will even save obedient enemies from danger. Is that true?" "It's just a win-win situation." "So how do those dangers come about?" "It's just a matter of time." "Then... what if the enemy refuses to repent?" "Refuse to repent?" Nie Weiyang smiled kindly, his sharp fangs flashing with a cold light. "—Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

In this fantasy world where magic and machinery coexist, Sherlock, a commoner, faces a difficult task in becoming a powerful wizard or warrior, ascending to a position of power. Fortunately, fate favors those who work hard. In this world, Chinese and English have become ancient scripts that represent mystery and power. They record magical rituals from the Age of Gods and the origins of steam... "What did I work hard for?" "I worked hard to be reborn in my past life! Otherwise, how would I understand Chinese after traveling through time?" (A Final Fantasy-like worldview + magic + steam machinery)

[Fantasy] [Infinite Stream] [Evil Forces] [Suspense]

(No Romance | Pure Heart and Soul | Grim and Surreal)

I knelt at the peak of a mountain of corpses,

a blood-red thread burrowing into my finger bones like a parasite.

The monks—those cursed souls they called “disaster stars”—

met death with open, festering eyes, reflecting the droplets in my palm.

Even in ruin, they watched.

This is an era sustained by soul power,

where both “righteous” and “disaster stars” are born marked by fate.

But fate is a crooked thing.

My master and I hunted the Lifeng Sect,

a cult of madness and slaughter,

whose disciples would butcher their own families under twisted convictions.

Are they insane? No—

They have shattered their minds to touch something beyond sanity.

In my hand, I carry the healing drops—a pure counter to their venomous gu.

Even the corrupted skies seem to bend in my favor now.

“If the gods allow evil to flourish,

then let me become the one who poisons evil itself.”

Let the monks rot.

Let the threads tighten.

Let the drops fall.

I walk not the righteous path,

but the necessary one.

Ruan Hu became a demon. He turned into a beast on the ridge of the palace, staring at the mortals all day long.

On the first day, he watched the emperor listen to the poem in the imperial garden.

On the second day, he watched the emperor watch the dance and listen to the music in the palace.

The emperor changed beauties one after another, and they had fun every night.

His words could decide life and death, and he could take and give.

On the fourth day, Ruan Hu pushed the emperor into the lake.

He became the emperor.

The Barov family, a vast and mysterious clan of Arathor descent, possessed fiefdoms stretching from Brill in the north to Southshore in the west, from Tarren Mill in the south to Caer Darrow in the east. Reborn into such a family, Carlos was happy and content. In spring, he enjoyed the service of three thousand maids at Lakehold in Caer Darrow. Summers were spent escaping the heat in the apple orchards of Tarren Mill. Autumn brought vibrant red leaves to the maple forests of Brill. Winters were spent feasting on cod in Southshore. Whatever his needs, a simple ring of the Barov butler's bell would fulfill them. Such a life would make any trip to Azeroth worthwhile! If I hadn't played WoW, I almost would have believed it.