Path to Heaven - Chapter 1201

In a world ravaged by radiation and the remnants of war, Dylan is far from a classic hero. A lieutenant with a tainted past, he's just trying to survive the ruins of a dying world... until the day he wakes up bound and surrounded by the mutilated corpses of his comrades.Captured by monstrous creatures, he soon realizes he’s been transported to another world. A world far more dangerous, far more brutal—where only the strong survive, and even monsters are hunted. Saved in extremis by Maggie, his commanding officer, he begins a desperate escape. Their only hope may lie in their encounter with Élisa, an elf abandoned by her kin, and their discovery of a mysterious power: anima gems—stones imbued with spiritual essence that can enhance body and soul, and unlock the path to awakening.No One under 18 admitted

When the sword awakens, its slept so long that it has forgotten everything but hunger. It is a weapon made to feast on death and blood, and the more bodies that it leaves in its wake, the stronger it gets. Bloodstained Blade is a fantasy gamelit, where the main character is the blade, and not the person wielding it. So, expect the wielder of the blade to die occasionally and be replaced with another man or monster as the Ebon Blade pursues its own goals no matter the cost. Expect: Daily updates, new powers and abilities, numbers to go up, violence, and revenge.

A cultivator with normal aptitude finally found a treasure that could change his life but to his disappointment, he could not directly benefit from it.Author's Note: The MC is not smart and serious. He is goofy most of the time. This is a harem story. Leyvi will have many women. Thank you for reading and supporting me.Warning: My grammar is shit. Proceed with caution.

[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.