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Two Realms Shuttle Gate: Don't Call Me a Demon!

Su Jie, capable of traveling between Blue Star and the Cultivation World, discovered that cultivation was just too difficult. Spirit Pills, Magic Artifacts, Pocket Worlds, and inherent comprehension—each was a mountain on the long road to immortality. Not until Su Jie found out that Demon Cultivators refined corpses by killing, extracted souls to cultivate fiends, and used fear as sustenance for their cultivation. Need souls to consecrate a Soul Summoning Banner? Get to know the pig farms that slaughter millions of pigs a year. Need human fear to cultivate fierce ghosts? Stock up on ghost houses, horror films, and horror games... Need fresh blood for Demon Techniques? Across the ocean, America is the world's largest grey market blood transfusion station... ...... Years later. "You devil, how many people have you killed? And you still have the face to call yourself a good person? Pah, today I shall act on behalf of heaven to mete out justice." The Tianyuan World's most beautiful person's eyebrows were furrowed with rage, as she stared at the terrifying Devil before her, enveloped in wronged souls, with thousands of ghosts parading on his Soul Banner, seated in a palace made of bones, she posed her soulful question. The Devil slowly stood up and pulled out a business card that read "Hua Country's Philanthropist of the Year / Founder of the World's Largest Chain of Ghost Houses / Owner of Blue Star's Largest Livestock Slaughter Business / Emerging Tycoon of the Entertainment Industry." "You see, I'm really not a devil, okay? Nowadays, who still uses such a lowly method as killing people to cultivate as a devil!"
Jade Brocade Sword · 2.1m Views

Shennong Dao Master

【Brand New Setting】【Fully Developed System】 When you awoke, you had become an official known as "Minister of Agriculture" in a fantasy game. "Dynasty's Prosperity" version: You diligently cultivated the "Seasonal Order," from "Harmonizing Winds and Rains" to "Summoning the Winds and Commanding the Rains," from "Bountiful Grain Harvests" to "All Things Flourish," commanding the seasons and quietly developing. You achieved minor successes, joined the army on expeditions, and controlled the "Four Books of Agriculture." You froze thousands of miles of great rivers to pave the way for the army. With "Miasma" you slew enemies, "Fog Shadow" obstructed tens of thousands of troops, establishing unparalleled military exploits and rising to the position of Director of Agriculture, secretly seizing the fate of the dynasty, all falling into your hands. "Spiritual Energy Resurgence" version: You nurtured "Mountain Spirits and Wild Creatures": Twin lotus make you invulnerable to both water and fire, the Seven Star Sword cools the light across Nineteen Provinces, Parasitic Species feeding on living beings, Void Species rooting in the void to absorb the Spiritual Energy of heaven and earth... You established an inner scenic area, cultivated immortal species, with "Grand Taiyi Lotus" replicating en masse! "Ancient Tree of Life" immortal and indestructible! "A true seed falls into the Dantian, can nurture spiritual sprouts for ten thousand years, one day when the cultivation is complete, my life is governed by me, not by the heavens!" "Heart fire shines like the sun, kidney water is the source, spleen stores earth, lungs refine through metal, liver sustains with qi. Using the body as the foundation, nurture original species, foster all laws, achieving the status of Shennong Dao Master !"
Mighty Colonel · 779.3k Views

The Age of Uneven Pressure

The year was 1789, though history would later argue about when the weight truly began to press. At the center of the story is Aiden Srivijaya, masquerading as “Alain,” an unassuming French engineer swept into the Grand Armée’s logistics and reconnaissance efforts. Unbeknownst to the soldiers around him, Aiden inhabits an ancient, preserved body—Nebhet-Still—bound to forces far older than the Revolution or empire. His presence subtly alters events without overturning history: undead do not rise openly to conquer, battles are not decided by sorcery, yet something watches, listens, and waits beneath sand and river. Paris did not erupt. It compressed. Rooms thickened with unspoken fear and hungry hope. Candles bent their flames toward nothing. Windows rattled in still air. Those attuned to such things—the prayer-women, the street augurs, the quietly Aether-Marked—felt it in their bones. Aetheric Pressure had returned to Europe. Far from the shouting crowds, a young Corsican officer studied artillery tables by lamplight. Napoleon Bonaparte did not feel the pressure the way others claimed to. He saw no omens. He heard no voices. What he sensed instead was timing: the moment when hesitation outweighed courage, when momentum could be cut and redirected like a fuse. The Bastille fell beneath cannon fire and rumor alike. In the smoke, something older than kings stirred—not a god, not a spell, but the understanding that force could move history faster than lineage ever had. Across France, voices rose. Resonance orators set crowds vibrating with words that tasted of iron. Aether-Marked burned themselves hollow trying to steer revolutions that refused to be guided. Aether engineers measured the pressure with brass needles and called it reason. Napoleon watched. The Terror came, sudden and absolute. Fear spiked too sharply, and the pressure collapsed in on itself. Magic failed. Instruments cracked. Heads fell. Those who survived learned a lesson no pamphlet could teach: chaos could not be ridden forever. Sometimes it had to be broken. On the 13th of Vendémiaire, the guns spoke plainly. Grapeshot tore through flesh and conviction alike. The air cleared. The pressure dispersed. A republic remained—exhausted, wounded, and desperate for stability. Napoleon did not speak of destiny. He accepted responsibility. War followed him, as it always does. In Italy, armies moved like weather fronts, victories arriving before resistance could thicken. Aetheric influence whispered at the edges of his campaigns—nudged by broken men and delicate machines—but never allowed to lead. Napoleon advanced while others waited for signs. Then came Egypt. The desert did not yield. Beneath the sand lay sovereigns who had never abdicated, bound by solar law and memory older than conquest. When tombs cracked and the Sekhem Eternal rose, Europe’s pressure found no purchase. Cannon fire shattered bone that calmly reformed. Aetheric force slid from sun-etched shields as if ashamed of itself. Napoleon stayed. He learned that empires were not the first rulers of the world—only the loudest. Africa kept its deathless kings. Asia preserved its balance. Across oceans, the dead rose only according to their own laws and legends. Every land shaped pressure in its own image, and punished those who tried to impose another. When Napoleon finally turned his gaze back toward Europe, the world had changed. Not broken. Awakened. History would name him conqueror. Scholars would argue over genius, chance, and fate. Few would grasp the truth: The pressure did not crown Napoleon. He merely learned when to move— and when even the weight of the world must yield. Thus began the Age of Uneven Pressure, not with magic or revolution alone, but with a man who understood that once released, pressure reshapes everything it touches.
WisArchtect · 20 Views