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rebirth

From Pawn To Queen

Born into wealth but raised without love, Mariah Ashford has always been nothing more than a tool in her parents’ hands. Obedient. Silent. Replaceable. To save their collapsing company, they trade her away like a business contract—forcing her into a loveless marriage with Tony Wright, the arrogant heir of the richest family in the country. To him, she isn’t a wife. She’s a transaction. Humiliated, neglected, and forced to watch her husband flaunt his mistress in their home every night, Mariah endures it all, believing that if she tries hard enough, someone might finally choose her. But the night she’s pushed down the stairs and thrown out like trash. Something inside her breaks. Alone, injured, and abandoned, she collapses outside a hospital—only to be saved by a stranger. A quiet, dangerously handsome man with unreadable eyes. Asher Cross. A name whispered in the business world. A man more powerful than the Wrights. Richer. Untouchable. And for reasons she doesn’t understand, he refuses to let her go. For the first time in her life, Mariah is treated with warmth. With respect. With care. And when Asher discovers her hidden talent for fashion design, he does something no one has ever done before— He believes in her. With his silent protection and her own rising strength, Mariah begins to rebuild her life and her dreams. A new name. A new identity. A fashion empire of her own. But when her grand brand launch shakes the entire country and the elites receive an exclusive invitation… Her ex-husband. His mistress. And the parents who sold her. They all attend. Not knowing the woman they once discarded. Is now the queen standing above them all. This time? They’ll be the ones begging. And Mariah will never be anyone’s pawn again.
Mariah_white · 233 Views

Snow Despair

Blue light exploded as Eira swung first, his sword colliding with the woman's burning spear with a force that tore the air apart. Mana crashed outward in violent waves, ripping sound from the world as fire and frost devoured each other. He twisted his wrist mid-swing, dragging the blade down her weapon and forcing her back, ice crawling across the spear before shattering under a surge of black-red flames. She laughed. "You're late," she said, spinning and driving her spear toward his chest. Eira barely deflected. The impact hurled him through the sky, his body twisting as he fought to regain control. He stopped himself with a burst of cold, boots skidding against invisible air, sword humming violently in his hands. Only then did the world reveal itself. Endless white stretched beneath them, cracked and broken by war. Bodies lay scattered across the frozen land—men and women with silver hair, armor torn, weapons buried deep into ice. Some moved. Some didn't. The ground itself bore scars of mana so deep they still glowed faintly. A pressure rolled outward from Eira as he steadied himself. Far away, people collapsed without being touched. Knees buckled. Breath failed. Even standing became impossible under the weight of his presence. The woman floated calmly across from him, fire and shadow wrapping around her form. Her spear burned red, veins of black mana pulsing like a living thing. Flames spiraled outward from her body, erasing frost, stone, and anything else that dared exist too close. Below them, a young woman stood shaking, blood running down her arm as she held up a glowing shield. She was wounded badly, yet she didn't step back. She shielded the fallen behind her with everything she had left. Eira saw her. His jaw clenched. "Still distracted," the woman said, her voice carrying easily across the battlefield. "That hasn't changed." She raised her spear and slammed it downward. Fire crashed toward him like a collapsing sun. Eira answered by lifting his sword, blue light roaring outward as the flames split apart around him. The shockwave tore across the land, ice forming and breaking in the same breath. The sky broke. They moved again. Sword and spear collided midair, faster than sight, each strike releasing violent surges of mana that warped the world itself. Blizzards swallowed firestorms. Flames evaporated ice. Mountains formed and shattered in seconds. "You're weaker," she said, twisting her spear and driving him back through a wall of frozen air. "Did dying once finally dull you?" Eira staggered, blood spilling from his mouth as he caught himself. His sword shook, not from fear, but restraint. "I won't lose again," he said. Her eyes narrowed. "This ends now, Eira."
ash_0194 · 13.3k Views

Hell, Me, More

Fiction Chinese Historical Fantasy BL Hell, Me, More Yang Yanqing, eighteen years old, is a small, absent-minded student clumsy, forgetful, and always a step behind. Surrounded by bullies and whispered laughter, he has long convinced himself that no one truly cares for him. Gu Mingyue, also eighteen, is in his final year at the martial cultivation academy. Once promised as Yanqing’s betrothed, he now stands at a distance cold, disciplined, and unreadable. Ruyi Hong, eighteen as well, has never gotten along with Gu Mingyue and takes particular pleasure in teasing Yanqing whenever the opportunity arises. The three of them share a secret older than memory. A thousand years ago, they were descendants of an emperor. During an era of chaos, their bloodlines were forced to change surnames and scatter, eventually falling under the protection and quiet control of the Yun clan, who rose to rule the realm in their stead. Peace, however, is nothing more than a current swirling beneath a still ocean. As graduation approaches, the disciples are assigned their final trial: to seek out the Rootless Tree hidden within the ancient ancestral tomb. But before the journey even begins, Yanqing encounters someone strange someone unlike anyone he has ever met who begins shadowing him at every turn. And with that encounter, the fragile calm of the realm begins to fracture. Warning: This is a Chinese ancient fantasy BL (Boys’ Love) novel created purely from the author’s imagination. All characters, events, and locations are fictional. The language and expressions are intentionally stylized and are not historically accurate. This story does not reference real history. Reader discretion is advised.
Hell_spawned_ · 252 Views