One Moo'r Plow - Chapter 40BBook 2: : The Vastlands.

There was no light in the night, save for the sound of war drums and war cries.

The young man listened carefully, it was the sound of his heartbeat and the flow of his blood.

What lay hidden in the darkness ahead? Is it man, god or……a monster?

There was no such thing as the best road, because the journey beneath one’s feet is limitless!

She was a medical expert, talented and beautiful. She was reborn as his little wife. Her in-laws did not like her, her husband did not love her, and she was as timid as a mouse. She was weak and easy to bully.

“Sect Master! Marry me!”If only things were that simple.Fang Yuan lets out a long sigh, eyes fixed on the mountain of paperwork threatening to swallow his desk and his soul.As the youngest family head in history, you’d think he’d be enjoying fame, fortune, and fawning admirers.Instead, he’s buried in bureaucracy, stuck mediating elder disputes, and wondering if the sect treasury mysteriously eats spirit stones.Sure, the old geezers have their experience, their beards, and their lofty reputations.But Fang Yuan? He has one thing they don’t: raw, unshakable power.Born into a world where innate talent reigns supreme, Fang Yuan—a transmigrator armed with modern grit—actually managed the impossible: he clawed his way to the top with nothing but relentless hard work.While everyone else coasted on heavenly bloodlines and golden physiques, he trained, he studied, and he schemed.Now, he’s strong enough to bend heaven’s will.But cultivation isn’t all sword beams and glory.Life as a family head comes with its own set of woes—namely, watching his annoyingly handsome junior brother collect all the female attention like some kind of walking romance novel.“This isn’t fair,” Fang Yuan mutters under his breath, stamping another scroll. “I’m the protagonist here... right?”

I was just your average burnout. Now I’m a kobold in a dungeon where everything wants to eat me—and frankly, I get it. I look delicious.Reincarnated as the weakest possible monster in the worst possible place, I start with nothing but panic, backward knees, and a skill called Civilization Mimicry—which is sealed. Because of course it is.But survival isn't the story.This is the story of what comes after.Of finding meaning in the scraps. Of building law from ashes. Of kindling memory in a place designed to erase.Because even if the world sees kobolds as nothing, I’ve seen what we used to be.And I’m going to bring it back.Firelight by firelight. Burial by burial. One fragile tradition at a time.Because if the world wants kobolds to be nothing?Then I’ll teach it what nothing becomes when it learns to dream.