Tangye Wanzi
18 Published Stories
Tangye Wanzi's Books and Stories
Traveling to ancient tribes to build infrastructure
Fantasy I woke up with a splitting headache, only to realize I had transmigrated into the body of a fragile rodent-variant female in a brutal, mutated wasteland.
Before I could even process my new reality, I was shoved into a mandatory pairing auction. The guards gave me exactly ten seconds to find a partner, or I would be sent to the deadly border patrol squads as cannon fodder. Three massive, heavily scarred mutants with greedy eyes immediately locked onto me, ready to claim me as their plaything.
Desperate for a legal shield, I scrambled away from the brutes and made a shocking choice. I walked straight up to the one person everyone else was avoiding like the plague-a sickly, pale man coughing up dark red blood in the corner.
"Partner up. I need a shield, you need a caretaker."
When the guard registered our names, the entire square erupted in open mockery. The chieftain even warned me that my new partner was poisoned, a dead man walking who couldn't hunt or protect me. In their eyes, a weakling and a dying man were nothing but a joke, doomed to freeze or starve.
But the jeering crowd didn't know two things. First, I possessed a wealth of old-world survival knowledge. Second, the fragile man sleeping on my stone bed wasn't just a dying invalid. Why would an elite silver wolf warrior with terrifying, suppressed power hide among the lowest of the low?
I didn't care about his secrets. Looking at the barren dirt behind our rundown shelter, I handed him a stone hoe. While the rest of the camp waited for us to die, we were going to build an impenetrable underground fortress. My Terminal Diagnosis, His Cruel Divorce
Romance I hid my terminal stomach cancer diagnosis, hoping to spend my last six months with my husband, Gerard.
But the moment I stepped into our penthouse, he threw a divorce agreement at my feet.
"We are ending this marriage. Kena is waiting for me."
He said his first love had returned, and he had no time to play games with me anymore.
Over the next few days, he watched me vomit violently, coldly accusing me of faking a pregnancy to secure a massive payout.
When his own grandfather suffered a massive heart attack upon discovering his public affair, we rushed the old man to the emergency room.
But Gerard didn't stay for the surgery.
Kena showed up in a wheelchair, crying about a mild chest pain, and he immediately turned his back on his dying grandfather and me to comfort her.
I had loved this man in secret for thirteen years.
I even saved him from a rival's drug trap just nights ago, giving my failing body to him in a dark hotel room to protect his reputation.
Yet, to him, I was nothing but a greedy, calculating transaction standing in the way of his true love.
Watching him walk away to hold another woman while the surgery light flashed red, the thirteen years of desperate love inside me finally shattered.
I calmly wiped his grandfather's blood from my hands and turned around.
This time, I will sign the papers and disappear from his life forever. He Found My Worth, Unlike Them
Modern For three years, I was the unpaid maid, cook, and accountant for my boyfriend Kieran's family. His mother, Jeanie, never let me forget my place. "You're not legally family," she'd say, whenever I asked for basic respect.
Then I found the messages on his phone. He and Jeanie were arranging his engagement to Carolina Farley, a wealthy heiress. They called me a placeholder—someone who was just "around" until a better option came along.
Jeanie sat me down and told me it was time to leave, confident I had nowhere else to go.
She was wrong.
While they slept, I earned my CPA license. While they spent, I saved every dollar. While they dismissed me as "just the girlfriend," I bought my own condo.
When Kieran finally came crawling back, begging for another chance, I had one thing to say:
"I'm already married. To a man who didn't need three years to know my worth."
He thought I'd wait forever.
He thought wrong. One Night With The Wrong Brother
Modern I thought I was waking up in the arms of Arthur, the man I loved. But as the morning light hit the Hamptons estate, the man buttoning his cuffs by the window turned around with eyes like chips of ice. It was Augustus Riddle, Arthur’s cruel younger brother, and I had just spent the night whispering confessions of love into the wrong man's ear.
The night I thought was a beautiful beginning turned into a devastating nightmare. Instead of comfort, Gus treated me like a stain on his expensive carpet, scribbling a check for "services rendered" before shoving me into a dark service corridor to hide my existence from his brother.
"How much does it cost to buy your silence?"
He sneered, before leaving me barefoot in a torrential downpour while he drove away in a luxury Cadillac. Four years later, I am a struggling actress in Los Angeles, working double shifts as a barista just to keep the lights on. My life was finally stable until my roommate dragged me to a high-end dinner to meet her new "influential" boyfriend. The man sitting at the table, looking more arrogant and lethal than ever, was Augustus.
He spent the entire night humiliating me, calling me a pathetic amateur and a social climber in front of my only friends. When I fled into the rain and collapsed on the sidewalk, skinning my knee until I bled, he watched from his car. He saw me clutching a plastic baggie containing the taped-together pieces of that four-year-old check—the only proof of my shame. He looked at me like roadkill, rolled up his window, and drove off into the dark.
I couldn't understand why he was doing this. Why did he hate me enough to crush me, yet remember that I couldn't handle the smell of cigarette smoke? Why did he leave me bleeding in the street, only to send expensive medical supplies and coffee to my door the very next morning?
"I'm moving out."
I told my roommates, realizing that Gus Riddle didn't just want to destroy me; he wanted to haunt me. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out with eighty dollars to my name, finally ready to disappear into the city before he could burn the rest of my life to the ground. Just A Placeholder: Dying For His Mistress
Mafia I stood on the tarmac clutching white magnolias, watching the man I loved hand his loyalty to the woman born to destroy me.
Dante Cavallaro, the Ruthless Underboss, didn't just leave me for Sofia Moretti.
He revealed that for two years, I wasn't his lover. I was a human shield.
The heavy iron bangle he forced me to wear wasn't a gift for my protection.
"It's a Malocchio anchor," he sneered as I lay paralyzed on the floor. "It drains the wearer's luck to keep Sofia healthy. You are just the filter."
My body began to rot from the inside out, my nerves dying one by one.
When I was finally on my deathbed, unable to move or speak, Dante didn't cry for me.
He cried because his tool was broken.
He forced the cursed bangle onto his own wrist, begging the universe to keep me alive so I could continue to suffer in Sofia's place.
"Please," he sobbed into my sheets. "Don't leave me alone with the bad luck."
I used my last breath to make a wish—not for him, but for my freedom.
I closed my eyes and died.
Exactly one hour later, Dante's phone rang.
It was his father.
"Sofia just collapsed," he said. "Her heart just stopped."
I was the vessel.
And now that I was gone, the poison had come home to the King. Breaking The Cage: The Mafia Wife's Revenge
Mafia I was smoothing the red silk of my dress over a baby bump only I knew existed, preparing to tell my husband, the ruthless King of Chicago, that he was finally going to be a father.
But before I could share the news, the ballroom fell silent.
A woman walked in wearing a gold dress that was barely legal. It was Serena, the woman from the photos I had received just hours ago. She walked right up to us and handed Michael a silver tie clip.
"You left this in the suite, Michael," she purred in front of the entire city's elite.
When I demanded she leave, she smirked and threw her glass of red wine all over me. The liquid soaked into my dress, looking like a gunshot wound right over my womb.
I waited for Michael to defend me. To throw her out.
Instead, he looked at the crowd, terrified of a scandal.
"Don't make a scene, Liv," he hissed, his eyes cold. "Go upstairs and change. I'll handle this."
He turned his back on me and walked away with his mistress, leaving me dripping in crimson and humiliation.
My mother found me sobbing in the bedroom and slapped me sober.
"Tears are for the weak," she said. "Tonight, Michael Thorne loses everything."
We froze his assets. We destroyed his reputation. But that wasn't enough. I wanted to break his soul.
I looked down at my stomach. I would protect this child, but his father would never know he existed.
"Tell him I lost the baby," I whispered to the butler, my voice trembling with rage.
"Tell him the stress caused a miscarriage. Tell him he killed his heir."
Tonight, the golden cage opens. And Michael Thorne is about to find out that even a canary has claws. Too Late For Regret: The Mafia King's Runaway
Mafia I watched my husband, the most feared Capo in New York, sign away our marriage with the same cold indifference he usually reserved for ordering a hit.
The nib of his Montblanc pen scratched against the paper, drowning out the rain hitting the coffee shop window.
He didn't bother to read a single word.
He thought he was signing routine shipping manifests for the family business.
In reality, he was signing the "Dissolution of Union" papers I had hidden beneath the cover sheet.
He was too distracted to check. His eyes were glued to his encrypted phone, frantically texting Sofia—the widow, the tragic beauty, the woman who had haunted our marriage for three years.
"Done," he grunted, tossing the stack into his armored SUV without even glancing at me.
"Business is concluded, Elena. We leave."
Moments later, his phone rang with her special emergency tone.
His demeanor shifted from cold boss to frantic protector instantly.
"Driver, divert. She needs me," he roared.
He looked at me with zero affection and ordered, "Get out, Elena. Luca will take you home."
He kicked me out of the car into the pouring rain to rush to his mistress, completely unaware he had just legally granted me my freedom.
I stood on the curb, shivering but smiling for the first time in years.
By the time the Don realizes he just signed his own divorce, I will be a ghost in San Francisco.
And he will have nothing left but his shipping logs and his regret. Escaping His Cage: The Phoenix Wife Returns
Modern Two minutes before midnight on the eve of my wedding, my phone buzzed.
I expected a sweet text from my groom, Liam.
Instead, I received a photo of him with his lips inches from another woman's neck.
The caption read:
"He's celebrating his last night of freedom. Are you sure you want to be the jailer?"
I didn't scream. I didn't cancel the wedding.
I walked down the aisle the next morning and looked at his handsome face.
I saw the scratch on his wrist—a souvenir from his mistress, Ava.
Later, I overheard him tell his best man that I was just the "safe bet," a boring broodmare to provide an heir while he had fun with her.
He thought I was a naive girl who believed in fairy tales.
He thought he had secured his perfect life when I said, "I do."
But he was wrong.
When I discovered I was pregnant a few days later, I didn't celebrate.
I realized this baby wasn't a blessing; it was a lock on my cage.
Liam wanted a dynasty? He wanted a legacy?
I looked at the positive test in my hand and made a cold, hard choice.
I wasn't going to just leave him.
I was going to destroy him.
I wiped my tears, packed my documents, and prepared to burn his entire world to ash.
The war had just begun. When Love Became A Lie
Romance The wedding dress, a Parisian dream, hung ready. My guardian, Daniel Hayes, the man stepping into the role of my husband in three weeks, surveyed me with possessive eyes. Everything was perfect, almost too perfect for the girl who lost her parents and world in a fire, only to be taken in by a generous "uncle."
Then, his phone buzzed. A name popped up: "Sarah." And beneath it, a picture of a smiling woman and a small boy grinning at the camera, with a message: "Kev and I are waiting. Don't be late." My perfectly constructed world began to crack.
He admitted it-Sarah was his fiancée ten years ago, before she left him. I was merely a "substitute," a convenient look-alike to fill the void she left. His affection, his care, our shared love-all a calculated lie. Then, an anonymous email confirmed my worst fears: he was still seeing her, even now, on the eve of our wedding.
"You're a monster," I told him, tears streaming down my face. He just stared, unmoved, his voice like ice: "The wedding will go on as planned, Olivia. You will not embarrass me." He wanted me to be a dutiful wife, a pawn in his twisted game.
The pre-wedding gala was a public humiliation. Sarah appeared, triumphant, with her son. Daniel, caught between us, didn't defend me. He paraded me before the woman he truly desired. It wasn't just betrayal; it was torture. And then came the ultimate blow: he hit me, in front of them, leading to the devastating loss of our unborn child.
Lying in the hospital, my heart hollow, I let him believe his feigned remorse. He wanted to "make it right," to "send them away." He thought he still had me, the forgiving, wounded woman. But the girl who loved him had died in that studio, with our child. A new plan, cold and sharp, began to form in the hollow space where my heart used to be. His Reckoning, Her Triumph
Romance Six years. That' s how long it had been since Mark Johnson chose to walk away, leaving me to face my family' s ruin alone.
Now he stood in my apartment, polished and powerful, fully expecting to find me broken and waiting for him.
Instead, I was sprawled on a worn sofa, cradling my sleeping baby, Liam.
Mark' s perfectly sculpted face twisted in disbelief, then disgust, as he laid eyes on my son.
"Whose is that?" he spat, then, eyeing my faded clothes and humble home, added, "I mean, who' s the father? Have you no shame?"
He offered to take me back as his mistress and "find a good family" for Liam, as if my child were dispensable cargo.
Then he grabbed my arm, revealing an ugly, jagged scar on my forearm-a relic from the "halfway house" he' d sent me to.
Chloe, my stepsister, ever the innocent puppet master, smoothly deflected his concern, painting me as a reckless delinquent.
It worked. Any flicker of understanding in Mark' s eyes hardened into contempt.
"You' ve become something ugly, Ava," he told me, letting go as if I were contaminating.
I knew he wasn' t disappointed in himself, only in me for not suffering prettily.
He lunged for my throat, then for Liam, snarling that my son's absence might "make me see reason."
Just as despair choked me, the door crashed open.
"Get your hands off of them."
Jake Stone, my friend, my partner, my savior, stepped into the room, his presence a shield.
He took Liam, comforting him before turning to Mark, his voice calm but lethal.
"I'm the man who's here now," he stated. "And I'm telling you to get out."
I stood beside Jake, tears drying, my voice clear.
"You left me to rot for six years. Jake was the one who pulled me from the wreckage. He' s more of a man than you will ever be." Love's Grave: A Final Sacrifice
Horror The shovel struck the dirt above me.
A dull, wet thud.
It was my grave, and I was floating above it, watching.
My ex-girlfriend, Ava, was there, livestreaming to thousands.
"We're doing this for Liam," she announced, her voice tight with artificial conviction.
Beside her, my former best friend, Liam Davis, grunted, driving the shovel deeper.
He was performing, for Ava, for the camera, for the lies he' d spun for five years about me haunting him.
Then, he unearthed my pine coffin.
The crowbar pried it open, revealing the horrific claw marks-my claw marks-inside the lid.
But also, my diary.
Ava, pale and trembling, pulled it from the mud.
She began to read my words, words that told of my love for her, of Liam's escalating cruelty, not mine.
Yet, she still clung to his narrative, selectively reading to justify her actions.
He' d almost poisoned me.
He tried to murder me.
The truth, stark and undeniable, spilled from the pages.
Then, my mother arrived.
She didn't just expose Liam's lies about an old fight; she revealed a truth that shattered Ava' s world: I was going to donate my kidney to save her life.
The man she' d desecrated, the monster she' d paraded online, was her silent savior.
Struck by a blinding guilt, Ava unearthed the diary's final, blood-stained entry.
My last words.
"Ava. Liam did this. I love yo-"
Unfinished.
The truth was absolute: Liam had not only framed me, he had buried me alive.
A raw scream tore from Ava' s throat.
The tears that followed were years too late, but they ignited a terrifying purpose.
She would make him pay. He Lied, I Thrived Anyway
Romance My relationship with Liam was a twenty-year slow burn, a homecoming everyone called perfect and meant to be.
Then, scrolling through my phone one Tuesday night, an anonymous post on a local gossip forum shattered that illusion.
It was a gushing narrative from a girl named Olivia, detailing secret meetings and gifts from a business school charmer-the same limited-edition sneakers I' d seen Liam coveting, the ones he told me were sold out.
Beneath it, a comment read, "He even lied to his clingy childhood friend 'girlfriend' that they were sold out just so he could surprise me. He says he\'s only with her because his parents like her."
Clingy childhood friend. The words felt like a punch, blurring my vision. My heart raced as I dialed Liam, his warm greeting a stark contrast to the betrayal I' d uncovered.
He lied about the sneakers, easily, poorly, confirming my worst fears.
His flimsy denial crumbled when I confronted him with Olivia' s account, his "nervous edge" a stark contrast to my unwavering fury.
My best friend Maya' s warning echoed: "I don\'t trust him, Chloe. The way he was looking at her... it wasn\'t friendly." How stupid I felt for defending him.
Then, the final blow: Olivia' s public profile, a cascade of photos-his hand in hers, his familiar smile reserved for her, captioned "My one and only. Soon the whole world will know." Posted just an hour ago.
The heartbreak was physical, but beneath it, a cold, sharp anger stirred. This wasn't a misunderstanding; it was a cruel, deliberate deception.
I hung up, no more lies needed, meeting my own clear gaze in the dark phone screen. I was no longer just a heartbroken girl; I was a girl who had been played for a fool, and I would not let him get away with it. Liam's Shadow, Chloe's Lie
Romance The "True Harmony" system was perfect, a monument to the future I, Ethan Miller, was eager to build with Chloe, my fiancée of a decade. Our wedding, a meticulously planned extravagance, was just one week away, a celebration of the life we'd spent years creating.
Then, she walked into my study, and in a soft, flat voice, delivered words that detonated my entire world: "I can't marry you next week. I have to marry Liam first."
Liam. Her stepbrother. The man she confusingly called her "first love," now demanding she fulfill his deceased mother's "dying wish" for her to settle him. My shock curdled as she explained it was "just a formality" – she'd marry him, then divorce him, for "filial piety." My life, our future, reduced to a mere inconvenience.
The insult deepened when she asked for a "dowry" – a few million dollars for Liam. I was not her partner; I was her bank, and Liam, the beneficiary. When her fabricated apologies came, they were delivered with Liam's leftovers, the subtle taunt a final blow. What was this absurd wish, this sudden, desperate need that obliterated our years together? How could the woman I loved so easily betray and humiliate me for a man who seemed to be nothing but a perpetual burden?
My initial shock hardened into cold resolve. If Chloe, the supposed woman of my dreams, prioritized a con artist over me, then my answer was simple: "I need a new bride." Cursed by My Best Friend
Horror Savannah stood at my desk, her smile unsettlingly bright, holding a tiny antique bottle.
"For you, Chloe," she purred, her voice dripping with fake sweetness, "a special family recipe for good fortune."
But a chill ran down my spine the moment I saw it.
The bottle. The smell. The lie. It all came flooding back with agonizing clarity.
I remembered the grotesque rash, worse than any psoriasis, erupting across my skin.
It was red, raw, and it smelled like rotting meat, coarse black hair sprouting from inflamed patches.
Doctors were confused, their creams useless.
My own reflection became a monster.
Ethan, my boyfriend and boss, looked at me with disgust before abandoning me for good.
I was fired from the job I loved, my career turning to ash.
I died alone in my apartment, ostracized and broken, the foul reek of my own decaying flesh my final breath.
Then I remembered the truth I learned after death: It wasn't a disease.
It was a vicious Hoodoo curse, a 'crossing' fed by that very essential oil.
A "gift" from my best friend, Savannah.
She wanted my job, my beauty, my entire life.
And she took it all.
But now, I was back.
My skin was clear, my body whole.
I had a second chance.
And this time, she wouldn't win. The Wedding That Wasn't
Romance Victoria Hayes, heiress of the New York Hayes family, was poised to marry Ethan Miller.
For four years, I' d meticulously molded him from a broke university kid into a successful entrepreneur.
He was my creation, meant to be a living echo of Julian Vance, my first love, tragically lost.
But on the eve of our wedding, a chilling overheard conversation shattered my perfectly constructed world.
I discovered Ethan, his pathologically obsessive ex Chloe, and even his family, were plotting my public humiliation at the altar.
His whispered "Alright. I'll do it" twisted my stomach, revealing the man I' d idealized was a cheap, cruel fake.
He later abandoned me during a fire alarm, grabbing Chloe first, leaving me trampled and injured.
I overheard him confess he "despised" me, viewing me only as a controlling ATM.
The agonizing pain wasn't for him, but for my wasted years and his utter contempt.
How could I have been so foolish, investing so much in such a calculating fraud?
I wasn't a victim; I was furious, utterly betrayed, and finally, free.
My illusion shattered, my resolve hardened, and I calmly called my mother: "Cancel the wedding. I'm coming to London."
Tomorrow, I' d depart, not as a jilted bride, but as the architect of his public downfall.
My path now clear, I was ready for a new life unfettered by shadows or substitutes. My Gift, His Curse: A Spectral Reckoning
Xuanhuan I'm Anya, and I see ghosts-a family gift that's always been a curse, until I found fragile peace at Serenity Glen, learning to manage my powers and appease the vengeful ghost, the Lady in Gray, who was finally nearing her eternal rest.
That fragile peace shattered the day I saved tech mogul Ethan Cole from death, exacting a vow of unwavering loyalty only for him to spend seven years flaunting an affair and dismissing me as "too mystical."
His betrayal escalated into a calculated torment: desecrating my home, stealing my protective amulet, orchestrating the demolition of Serenity Glen-my sanctuary-and even murdering my mentor, Elijah, all while forcing me into torturous blood transfusions for his mistress and secretly planning to abort my unborn child.
My world crumbled as I learned his "near-death" was a setup from the start, a manipulative ploy to exploit my spiritual connections, and Elijah's death wasn't an accident but planned murder, leaving me reeling from a betrayal so profound it defied comprehension.
As his mistress, Tiffany, revealed his full deceit and then spitefully destroyed my last sacred defense-my moonstone pendant-a primal rage erupted within me, unleashing a force far older and more vengeful than I could control, ensuring that the price of Ethan's betrayal would finally be paid. My Life, My Rules
Romance "Voices." That’s how I found Ethan a year ago, online, his deep, calm tones a warm blanket over my introverted self. Today, after months of online chats, my boyfriend was finally coming to meet me in person. My stomach churned with a nervous, hopeful excitement.
But then, as if a glitch in my reality, a transparent social media feed flickered into my vision, comments scrolling relentlessly. "LOL, 'vet him.' She means 'steal him.'" "Main Character Brit about to secure the love interest! Sarah who?" They were mocking me, predicting my popular, effortlessly charming roommate, Brit, would steal Ethan. "Girl, this ain't a hallucination. This is the script. You're watching your life's reality show."
My excitement shattered. Brit, always the queen to my lady-in-waiting, played her part perfectly, offering syrupy "concern" to check out my "online guy," later even faking an ankle injury just to get Ethan alone. Each comment from "The Feed," each calculated move from Brit, amplified my deepest fear: I was just an average side character, destined to be replaced.
Was this my inevitable fate? To watch my love story unfold as a footnote in someone else’s drama? The injustice of it all, this pre-written "script" I was supposed to follow, sparked a cold, determined anger deep within me.
No. This was *my* life. And I refused to be a stepping stone. I would not be the loser side character. I would fight for him, fighting back with every clever text, every subtle move to reclaim control, even a strategic lie, to ensure I wrote my own script. CEO's Aloof Wife: Where Your Love Lies
Romance As an outcome of a conspiracy, Stacie was forced to marry Andrew. On their wedding night, her husband warned her to never reveal their marriage to the world. At home, they would be a couple, but in public, they would be complete strangers. Thus, she ended up becoming his secret wife.
Any time she was in trouble, he would stand up for her and protect her, which warmed her heart. And just when she started to think that he loved her, he destroyed her fantasy. When news about their marriage came out accidentally, he mercilessly handed her the divorce agreement. At that moment, she knew. She knew that he had married her for her hundred billion legacies. You might like
Claimed By The Possessive Silver Wolf
Evie Schoofs I was just hiking in Yosemite, but I woke up in a primitive forest with two moons and giant, mutated beasts.
Before I could even process the shock, I was attacked by a monstrous saber-toothed tiger, only to be saved by a massive silver wolf who suddenly transformed into a fiercely possessive, completely naked man named Caleb.
He claimed me as his own and carried me to his sprawling beast-man tribe. But the moment we arrived, I became the target of vicious ridicule. Jana, the tribe's most fertile female, pointed at my unmarked skin and publicly humiliated me.
"She has no mate marks! She's a barren waste, useless for breeding!"
Hearing this, the hundreds of beast-men who had just been eyeing me with lust instantly stepped back in disgust. In this twisted, animalistic society, a female's worth was tied entirely to her ability to produce strong cubs.
I stood there shivering, terrified and degraded, reduced to nothing but a defective piece of meat. I braced myself for the inevitable, waiting for Caleb to realize my worthlessness and throw me out to be torn apart by the wild.
Instead, a terrifying, suffocating aura exploded from his body, bringing the entire tribe to their knees. He swatted the fertile female away in disgust, scooped me into his arms, and turned his back on the camp.
"She is my only mate," he declared, his ice-blue eyes promising violence to anyone who dared to look at me. After Rebirth, The Strongest Beasts Are Obsessed With Me
Alibi Elena died on the operating table, betrayed by her husband, her unborn child already gone.
But death? Just her intermission.
She woke up in a whole new world-a beastmen's world, where females are rarer than diamonds and the strongest males go mad without a woman's mark to calm them down.
And her?
Labelled the weakest female alive. An F-rank body with a joke of a status.
But hidden inside? Unlimited mental power.
Just as she's figuring out this mess, a system pops up with one hell of an offer:
Complete the missions. Bond with assigned males. Save this world.
Do all that, and you get a one-way ticket back home. for revenge.
Sounds simple? Think again.
A Wolf General, colder than a blizzard, who should have ended her-ended up letting her mark him.
A Fox Prince, all charming smiles and secret schemes, who started playing games only to lose his own heart.
A golden Dragon, sunshine-bright and fiercely possessive, who declares her his destined treasure.
A shadowy Serpent, too patient and too dangerous, watching her every move from the dark.
A Phoenix King, whose love burns so hot he'd reduce empires to cinders for her.
They all need her mark. They all want her.
And sharing? Not in their vocabulary.
Too bad for them-
She's not here for love stories.
She's here to survive.
To climb.
To turn their legendary power into her own stepping stones.
And one day.
To go back and make her betrayers wish they were never born. Healing My Seven Broken Beast Mates
Rabbit My retirement was finally approved, and I was supposed to be sipping drinks on a sunny beach.
Instead, a cold system voice forced me into a nightmare scenario: "Cursed Mates Who Want Me Dead." I woke up in a stinking cave, trapped in the body of a psychopathic tribal princess.
The memories that flooded my brain made me sick. The original owner of this body had forcibly marked seven of the continent's most powerful beast-men and reduced them to tortured pets. She had ripped the shimmering scales off Jordi the Merfolk prince, gouged out a proud wolf-man's power crystal, and snapped an eagle-man's magnificent wings.
Now, Jordi was a mutilated, terrified mess hiding in a corner. He was so traumatized that he tried to slit his own throat just to escape me. His sister was actively trying to assassinate me.
To make matters worse, the system warned me that if I didn't heal these seven ticking time bombs, my soul would be erased. Yet the future timeline clearly showed that these men would eventually unite, burn my tribe to the ground, and dismember me alive.
I was paying for a monster's sins. Every time I tried to show mercy, they thought it was a sick new torture method. Words were useless, and my very presence was a trigger.
But I am a Tier-S operative, and I don't play the victim. I forced the system to unlock my powers and strapped on my tactical gear.
"Stay here and don't starve."
I left the trembling Merfolk behind and walked into the deadly primitive forest, heading straight for the powerful Oasis Tribe to take back his stolen scales by force. Redeeming The Hearts Of My Beasts
rabb I died on an apocalyptic battlefield, only to wake up pinned down by a lead-lined blanket of my own fat.
A violent download of memories hit me. I had transmigrated into the body of an exiled, sadistic noblewoman who was three million coins in debt.
The original owner was an absolute monster. She had purchased beastman guards just to torture them for fun. In the corner of the filthy room, a golden retriever boy cowered, his back shredded by her barbed whip. In the basement, a snake guard was frozen and scarred from constant electro-shocks. When the white tiger guard returned from hard labor, he looked at me with pure, murderous hatred, ready to tear me apart to protect the others. Even the local elites kicked down my door to mock my pathetic life and try to steal my men.
I was a decorated commander who bled for humanity. Why was I trapped in this ruined vessel, bearing the sins of a degenerate abuser?
It was all a setup by her sweet-faced cousin, Debera, who stole her royal life and sent her to this outer-rim hellhole to rot.
I gritted my teeth and plunged a military-grade gene repair serum into my arm, letting the agony burn away the black filth and weakness.
"The crazy woman you knew before is dead."
I tossed a medical kit to the trembling guards, loaded my old electromagnetic pistol, and headed for the deadly Demon Hunting Zone to start my revenge. The Discarded Heiress Owns The Wasteland
Ying Suhua Casey woke up with a throbbing skull in a glamorous dressing room, facing a public execution by an internet mob.
Her wealthy family had thrown her away. Her hypocritical sister, Coralie, forced a holographic tablet into her hands, demanding she join a deadly survival reality show on a wasteland planet.
"It's what Mommy wants. If you don't sign, you're dead to the Hendersons."
The whole world wanted her dead. On the live broadcast, billions of viewers cursed her as a toxic stalker. The golden boy idol Kayson physically attacked her to defend Coralie's honor. Even the show's staff mocked her, deliberately leaving her with nothing but a torn, broken tent and a single bottle of water for the lethal alien wilderness.
The universe was playing a cruel joke on her. She was framed as the villain of her sister's perfect story, banished to a wasteland where everyone expected her to cry, beg, and die on live television.
But they didn't know she had already survived a decade in the ruins. Casey didn't shed a single tear. Instead, she invoked a hidden contract clause, demanding a full year on the planet instead of the standard month.
"I'll survive for a year, and the planet becomes mine."
She grabbed her broken tent, stepped onto the red alien dirt, and prepared to show the universe what a real predator looked like. The Alpha Queen: Reign of Ice
J. E. Spears In a world where wolf clans rule kingdoms of fire, shadow, and storm, one girl is forgotten... until she rises.
Betrayed by her own pack and cast out into the frozen wastelands, she survives only by forging a bond with a legendary white direwolf-an ancient spirit of vengeance. Once scorned, underestimated, and left for dead, she claws her way back from Omega to Alpha, mastering frost and fury, outsmarting rival Alphas, and commanding armies with ruthless precision.
But destiny isn't done testing her. The Moon Goddess binds her to three fated mates-a brooding Fire Prince, a cunning Shadow Alpha, and a loyal Iceborn warrior-each demanding her heart, each threatening her autonomy. Will she surrender to prophecy... or claim them all?
Her choice will reshape kingdoms, ignite battles, and redefine what it truly means to be a Queen. This is the story of the Alpha Queen. This is the Reign of Ice. The Vampire Kings And Their Little Mate
Liz Barnet Being stimulated by three overly attractive vampires was the last thing I had ever imagined.
"Oh Jasmine, this is a sight to behold," Archer murmured,landing kisses all along my inner thighs.
Lucien broke the kiss, I could see the lust in his eyes.
Micheal took the turn to kiss me once I caught my breath and Lucien's fingers moved to spread my labia only for me to feel the unexpected lick of Archer's tongue on my clit.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head.
"Feel it..." Lucien growled into my ear, biting my earlobe, "Feel it how we pleasure you, little mate."
******
My whole life I have known my identity as a human but everything changed once I took the job in the Kings' palace as their maid and their attention fell on me.
Black Vale Dynasty was ruled by three powerful Vampire kings. Respected, Obeyed and feared they were the most dangerous predators on the earth. But when my life unknowingly gets entangled with theirs, soon the unimaginable happened—On the night of the full moon, I turned out to be their mate and this puts my whole existence under question.
They did not want to leave me but a human couldn't be the destined mate of a vampire, let alone three.
However, fate pulled the strangest game on me, linking my life to the eliminated Vaidel-Dynasty which was once ruled by the strongest vampire of all time before the rogue attack…that destroyed everything.
The Villain's Savior: My Spectacular Comeback
REGINA HUTCHINSON Brandi Ratcliff was the most dedicated core disciple of Silver Peak Academy.
But the moment Seraphina's magic core showed signs of weakness, the Dean and Brandi's trusted peers cornered her.
They demanded she hand over her life-bound Azure Lotus Artifact.
"Give it to her, Brandi. It is for the greater good of the academy."
In her past life, Brandi naively gave in to their pressure.
The result was a brutal betrayal. They forcefully drained her magic circuits dry to transfer the artifact, causing her veins to collapse.
She bled out on the cold stone floor, listening to the very people she trusted praise Seraphina's recovery while stepping over her dying body.
They dismissed her as a necessary, disposable sacrifice.
Until her dying breath, Brandi didn't understand.
Why was her absolute loyalty rewarded with a gruesome death?
Why did she have to be the sacrificial lamb on their altar just because Seraphina knew how to fake a few tears?
Opening her eyes again, the stale, incense-heavy air of the Dean's office filled her lungs.
She was back at the exact moment they demanded her artifact.
Looking at their hypocritical, greedy faces, Brandi didn't defend herself like the desperate girl she once was.
She gripped the lotus and violently severed the soul contract herself, tossing the dead metal onto the desk like garbage.
She threw down her elite silver badge right next to it.
"I am officially withdrawing from Silver Peak Academy."
In this life, she absolutely refused to be their stepping stone. Bound To The Exiled S-Class Monster
Zhen Xiang Halie woke up to a sharp pain and a terrifying reality. She was in a new body, her face covered in a hideous web of scars, and her spiritual power reduced to a pathetic D-Class.
Before she could even process the memories of being framed, her bedroom doors were violently kicked open.
Her sister Seraphina sauntered in with a venomous sneer, followed closely by Halie's S-Class fiancé, Jett.
"Look at the disgrace of the Avila family. What a waste," Seraphina mocked, throwing a mirror at her bed.
"I can't be tied to a cripple. As an S-Class, I have to break our engagement," Jett added, his gaze full of disgust.
The nightmare didn't stop there. Her father called, screaming about how she had shamed the family name. He officially stripped her of her inheritance, froze all her accounts, and exiled her to the decaying Southern District to rot.
To make matters worse, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in her skull, warning her of an impending genetic collapse. Without an immediate energy infusion, she would face total organ failure in thirty days.
A ruined face, a treacherous family, a world that wanted her dead, and a literal death clock ticking in her brain. The original owner had died in absolute despair, a tragic victim of sheer cruelty.
But if they thought she would just sit there and die, they were severely mistaken.
Armed with a mysterious system and her brilliant scientist mind from her past life, Halie packed her bags. She chose the craziest survival quest: head to the slums, find the exiled, sterile S-Class "madman" Coleman, and cure him to harvest his life energy. It was time to start her counterattack. 
/1/115379/coverorgin.jpg?v=1592d8192291650841264d0ebaa1ee49&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113253/coverorgin.jpg?v=b33284cd9c56b64f30139057ae294e29&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113108/coverorgin.jpg?v=c5f5d205f3ef78cb51ff9a57dce41adc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106586/coverorgin.jpg?v=de567a5cceb7bace5e472a78e65f368c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104643/coverorgin.jpg?v=8c9a3f7b4e6cfd29be1b75799996ed1b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104098/coverorgin.jpg?v=3f0b1ddd8162cf2e3151c4d8c6a95e5e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/103521/coverorgin.jpg?v=37a2e125f935284408cef7ee78a9aaef&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101767/coverorgin.jpg?v=66f01b6b13af1e22946bf374b9edb35f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/87015/coverorgin.jpg?v=1820f80d27ff1511ba360b422aa17832&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85911/coverorgin.jpg?v=b6f40d41daeabc48c216cce8478bc5f6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85705/coverorgin.jpg?v=bce2354a4e8918b3fd1be86d3048fbfc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85248/coverorgin.jpg?v=8d62656eebaff3f20db8b5d634984d3b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85229/coverorgin.jpg?v=8b18d6bd8fd7aac2bcbd3fa788534a7a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83323/coverorgin.jpg?v=cdd6fe809b35969aea74793ddc9eb1fa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81861/coverorgin.jpg?v=c2bc36e8fb372fb89ead56e44a9da63d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81163/coverorgin.jpg?v=43160460b17bf9c0329b67c9d92228f1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80727/coverorgin.jpg?v=51da192e9207b8636a076a22c1a96f70&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18665/coverorgin.jpg?v=1760792765900fae37a98d139b262d61&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/115434/coverorgin.jpg?v=b73bc3a46a239e41bba537fa0a16a3dc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112227/coverorgin.jpg?v=3f76d88d09724c90a884db39cfb8e66f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/115546/coverorgin.jpg?v=1a1d208b692ea3392d1d3bfe65936e81&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/115524/coverorgin.jpg?v=5498284ba8c24afa5f0f13ecdba2a2ee&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/115421/coverorgin.jpg?v=d53fd6270e58a8db6fde09bae4ad1d73&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104013/coverorgin.jpg?v=c1ca82ea8b2fac50dd5f39bb7152ccc0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/29677/coverorgin.jpg?v=825ff2dbb5b74c91fa2c7fc318fc49c3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/115034/coverorgin.jpg?v=709ec856fa2f124d5894af41923a7cd6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/115403/coverorgin.jpg?v=515048ad5ba2624980e5be599727e13f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/105182/coverorgin.jpg?v=5cb742553ef3839db915d1d5dae6596c&imageMogr2/format/webp)