Monroe - Chapter Four Hundred and Twenty-Eight. Colony.

Venshiro, a young ronin bound to the Black Vein Blade, is hunted by clans who would kill for the curse he carries. Every time he draws the sword, it takes something from him—his memories, his soul. But the blade remembers everything.And now, it wants more.

In the world of dragons and snakes, the talented but congenitally sick martial arts master was reborn as the sole heir of the 19th-century Canadian manor owner. He thought he would make money by practicing boxing, but he took advantage of the industrial revolution to become a giant of the times. The opened template.

In the end, the original owner was a hopelessly sick and consumptive ghost! I am still a bastard having an affair with a gardener…

Wait, what’s up with the claw?

James Howlett looked at the bone claws protruding from between his fingers, and became more and more worried about his future.

- Description from novelbuddy

Tao Xiaodong had a blind brother. Tang Suoyan, gentle and calm, was his brother’s favourite doctor. As such, Tao Xiaodong loved Tang Suoyan as well.

Oftentimes, people lose sight of that which was easily gained.

Over the years, Tong Ning was so coddled by Tang Suoyan that he failed to appreciate how fetching this rare specimen was—dumping him without pause, and picking him up again when he had a change of heart.

Except, this time, he was a step too late. Tao Xiaodong had long made his move.

Tao Xiaodong looked at Tong Ning, telling him with a smile, “It doesn’t matter who Tang Suoyan used to be with. He’s mine now. As long as I don’t let go, you’ll never be able to take away what I hold onto.”

- Description from Novelupdates

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.