MTL - Dominating Sword Immortal - Chapter 1470 Dusk plain

His filming opportunities were taken by others, his boyfriend cheated on him, he gave up a rich, tall handsome fiance and devoted himself to a scumbag. In the end, he was beaten to death by the scumbag. Yan Qing Chi felt that although this danmei cannon fodder supporting male that he transmigrated into was troublesome, it was kind of tragic that he died like this through his own actions.

So, the first thing that Yan Qing Chi did after taking over this body was to catch them in the act and beat up the scumbag! The second thing that he did, was to agree to the marriage proposal from the aristocratic fiance.

However, Yan Qing Chi stared down at his big belly. Who can tell him what the heck this was?! Don’t tell him that he transmigrated into a mpreg novel???

Standing on the side, tall, rich, and handsome Film Emperor Jiang asked carefully, “Babe, do you want a boy or a girl?”

Yan Qing Chi: Do I want a WHAT?!

- Description from Novelupdates

As disaster was about to strike, a group of survivors transmigrated into a desolated world and were challenged to a game of survival. From terrifying acid rains, to endless natural disasters, the heavens burn while the earth scorches, radiation is rampant, and nobody is spared from the dangers of this hellscape. The only way one survives is by building a shelter and slowly upgrading it in hopes of surviving another day.

Eighteen-year-old Trinity is unlike any other werewolf in her pack. For one, there were unusual circumstances surrounding her birth, for another, she is the only pack member to never shift into a wolf form. So now she doesn't quite belong anywhere. Not quite human and not quite wolf.

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.