Back to 1985: Spicy Pretty Wife - Chapter 45

Four years ago, after a night of drunkenness, she had a relationship with a stranger and fled in panic upon waking up. Four years later, she returns with a soft, cute little bun by her side.“Bad uncle, you're not allowed to bully my mommy!”The man looked at the little bun, who was not even tall enough to reach his waist, and gave a charming smile. “Shouldn't you ask your mommy why you look exactly like me?”

Nikolai gets bitten by a vampire and a werewolf on the same night. Their bites cause his hidden blood to awaken as the first hybrid. He grows stronger by devouring the blood of his enemies and lacks the weaknesses of both races.Despite this, he lives a normal life during the day. While at night, he explores a dark, hidden life, working for a spoilt princess and helping his obsessive friend. One is a vampire—the other leads a werewolf mafia group.Lost in this strange world, he finds help from Eliza, the strange pendant his mother created before she died. This helps him realise the world isn’t what he thought as he faces constant threats and danger from those who despise him.In this new world, his growth is rapid, and with endless possibilities, Nikolai fights for his life and to protect what he finds important while rising to the top.

Here, only those with spiritual roots can cultivate while those with mortal roots are destined to stay mortal.

Mo Wuji only has mortal roots, but will he only remain as a mortal?

I once believed I was the heroine of a modern fairytale, blessed with beauty, wealth, intelligence, and a powerful legacy. Men adored me, women envied me, and I was engaged to the most desirable man, Cole Fay. My life seemed perfect, a dream where I held the starring role. But on my eighteenth birthday, that illusion crumbled. The truth hit me hard: I wasn’t the protagonist, nor even the villain or a side character. I was just cannon fodder, a disposable part of someone else’s story. But when fate recognized the cruel joke of my life, I was granted a second chance. This time, I’ll write my own story, living for myself. And this time . . . I will never love you again.