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Her Food Livestream Broke the Galaxy

Xiang Weixun
Jiang Qiuqiu, a 21st-century food blogger, transmigrates to the interstellar era, completely broke and with nothing to her name. To make a living, a food streamer named Jiang Jiujiu burst onto the scene in the Federation's food livestreaming section, attracting countless bigwigs and hundreds of millions of Federation fans! #Shocking! The fan ranking of a certain streamer in the food section is practically a Federation Central TV press conference!!!# Number one on the list is the Imperial Blade, Admiral Mo Si! Number two is the Head of the Cabinet, Lord Jones! Numbers three to twenty are filled by the Federation's 18 war-faring generals! Everyone: !!!??? * Jiang Qiuqiu originally just wanted to cook to make a living, but she never expected to accidentally become famous, enlist in the army, save a legion, and pick up a husband. One day, a short video blew up the Federation's network. In the video, the Federation's hottest internet celebrity, Jiang Jiujiu, was directing the tall, handsome, and imposing Imperial Blade, Admiral Mo Si—with the very hands that had detonated the Insect Queen—to hold a kitchen knife and chop radishes! She also stated: "She has finally found a man who will cook for her." Countless people sobbed over this beautiful love story! -[Gentle and Sweet Food Blogger x The Great Admiral Who Personally Cooks for the Gentle and Sweet Food Blogger]
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I Leash Emperors: The Dead Shout. I Smile

The dead scream for justice. They have been screaming for centuries. In my office on the 88th floor, the sound is indistinguishable from the hum of the paper shredder. I have twelve of history's most dangerous minds in my vault—Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon, Wu Zetian, and eight others whose names are synonymous with the word empire. I stripped them of their crowns and their divinity and left them with the only two things that survive death intact: greed, and memory. Then I put them to work. The boardroom is their new battlefield. Stocks are their arrows. Hostile takeovers are their sieges. The First Emperor runs my supply chains with the same draconian efficiency that built the Great Wall. The Queen of the Nile runs my PR division and calls it beneath her. Caesar rewrites the legal architecture of an entire financial district before breakfast and considers it a light morning. The rules are simple. The Emperor with the highest ROI earns twenty-four hours of full sensory restoration—taste, warmth, the burn of real alcohol, everything the synthetic body cannot feel. The Emperor at the bottom earns something else: a Hell Start. Reincarnation as a beggar, a eunuch, a sacrificial lamb in the next cycle. They know this. It keeps them focused. Every full moon, the tavern opens. The millions they killed in their lifetimes gather as my Jury—compressed into a medium that runs on pure hatred, sustained by a spite so concentrated it has proven, against all known physics, to be a measurable energy source. They vote. They decide which of their tormentors leads the next charge, and which of the most venomous among them earns a temporary body to return to the waking world. Wu Zetian shed her imperial robes to kneel at my feet and beg for a private review of her HR directorship. Arsinoe—murdered by her own sister two thousand years ago—spent six weeks haunting Cleopatra's servers and built a perfect weapon before she ever asked me for the body to deliver it. Cleopatra herself believes her beauty is a currency I will eventually accept. She has not yet understood that in this building, the only currency is performance. I do not need loyalty. I need sharp blades. I do not trade in mercy. I trade in ROI. They believe this is my game. They do not ask why I need to win it. Rules? I am the rule. Harem? The highest-tier spoils of a game they don't know the stakes of. Every arc is a different world. Every world is a wound that needs closing. The Emperors do not know this. They never do. Perhaps the last thing standing between their world and oblivion is a man who stopped caring about it long ago. Let the dead shout. I smile. I have to. Tags: #InfiniteFlow #DarkFantasy #HighStakesPolitics #DivineAutocracy #GrimDark #RuthlessMC #HistoricalFigures #DarkHarem Content Advisory: Heavy power dynamics, sensory manipulation, historical figures in morally compromised positions. MC is an unapologetic autocrat. No redemption arcs.
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