My military branches can Evolve Infinitely - Chapter 1307 - 669 The Gap of Legends (4K)_2

He was an addict, a loser, a despicable human being.

The legend of the continent, the battle that brought fame; the Sacred Phoenix Lady, the Windfire Meteor Godrealm saber-art; the pair that ascend and fuse, the golden sun and the blue moon, the fury of the crashing thunder. There is no magic, no battle qi, nor any martial arts in this land. However, there are martial spirits. Ten thousand years have passed since the founding of the Tang Sect on the Douluo continent, and it has declined. A new, proud generation of heaven’s chosen has been born. Can the new generation of Shrek’s Seven Devils rally the Tang Sect and once more compose the song of the Unrivaled Tang Sect?

A million-year-old spirit beast, a sacred deathgod that holds the sun, the moon, and the stars in his hands, and a brand new spirit tool system which caused the fall of the Tang sect. One miracle shall occur after another.

Can the Tang Sect’s hidden weapons rally the winds, and can the glory of the Tang Sect ascend once more? All of this will be continued in the second installment of Douluo Dalu—The Unrivaled Tang Sect!

Vincent van Gogh, the painter who refused to be an accessory Of power and painted with his soul at the tip of a brush, was not understood by anyone and had to die like a madman, and he woke up in 21st century Korea.

Like a wheat field melted with gold, like a sunflower that swallowed the sun, a dazzling painter once again takes the brush.

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”