The Demonic Cultivator In Zombie World - Chapter 11: Myriad Souls Banner!

Delia's life was a cruel reality: the neglected and abused illegitimate daughter of a noble family, the Ellington family, she yearned for the love of her stepmother, Baroness Augusta, and younger sister, Lady Anne, who relentlessly mistreated her.Her world crumbled when she discovered a double betrayal: her beloved husband, Lord George had secretly pined for Anne, marrying Delia only to be near her sister. Simultaneously, her step mother framed her for a crime Anne committed.Overwhelmed and heartbroken, Delia's attempt to escape a death sentence led to a fatal carriage accident.But death was not the end. Delia awoke one year in the past, finding herself still engaged to George. This was her second chance, and the naive girl was gone, replaced by a woman consumed by a burning desire for revenge. Her first target: Duke Eric Carson, the powerful and wealthy man her sister Anne desperately pursued.Delia boldly approached Eric with a proposition for a contract marriage. To her surprise, Eric agreed, but with a condition: their fake marriage would become real and they can go their separate way after a year, hiding his own secret agenda. Now, armed with Eric's unexpected devotion and his willingness to lay down his life for her, Delia meticulously begins to dismantle her family's world. With Eric's help, she exposes the secrets they hide, manipulates their desires, and turns them against each other, orchestrating George’s demotion, Anne's downfall and seizing everything her sister coveted, including Duke Eric love and obsession.Will Delia and Eric be able to conquer all odds to get what they want? What happens when Eric doesn’t want their contract marriage to end? What happens when the last petal of that indicates her second chance falls?———————EXCPRET“I can’t return your feelings, your grace,” Delia whispered, her back against the cool wall.“But I can,” Eric murmured, stepping closer.Delia’s voice trembled. “It’s not the same.” She choked out. “ No one can love me without hurting me.”“Then teach me,” he said, his breath warm on her cheek. “Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved. I’m a quick study.”When she stayed silent, he sighed contentedly, a soft smile playing on his lips.“It’s alright. Just… use me. Anything you need. if you want money, ask the treasury, take as much money that’s needed. if you want power, use my name. if you want security and love, use my body.”His breath warmed her skin, his chest rose and fell with hers. “As long as it's from you, I'm happy.”

This world is not reality, nor am I the protagonist.

On the server “Altar,” a high-class survival game was officially launched. Survival was the only logic in the human game of alliance, betrayal, and human-natured games of deceit and treachery. After the smoke of gunpowder ends, only the survivors can speak.

As soon as he opened his eyes, the amnesiac An Wujiu saw a person at his side killed. While in confusion, a floating green typeface appeared before him.

Variable Name: An Wujiu
Attributes: Male, 20 years old
Game Rounds: 5
Win Rate: 100/100
Danger Rank: SSS

No wonder they were afraid.

The first time he saw An Wujiu, Shen Ti felt curious. The kindness and fragility in those eyes were not fake, so how could he survive in the Altar? It was until he saw the man had a sudden personality change. He recklessly gambled regardless of the cost, casually estranged people, grew further excited on the verge of death, and even calculated against himself to win. Only then did Shen Ti realize that it was his own cognitive bias.

Fortunately, he wasn’t a normal person either.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”