Ancestral Wealth Inheritance System - Chapter 352 - : Who Hasn’t Seen a White Lotus?

The Card Creator is a very ordinary profession. Simply put, the incumbent seals various kinds of abilities, illusions, images and so on in blank cards for convenience of use.

“Some connections are written long before two hearts ever meet.”Arjun never believed in fate, just another lost soul buried in the noise of textbooks and deadlines.Ayesha was a quiet storm, hiding a fragile heart behind glowing smiles and disappearing messages.They were just two strangers, separated by borders, bound by pixels on a screen.But what starts as casual texts in the dead of night slowly turns into something neither of them can explain.A bond stitched through unseen heartbeats.A love whispered through endless silences.But every heartbeat carries secrets... and some secrets are too heavy to cross the distance.When time begins slipping through Ayesha's fingers, Arjun finds himself caught between holding on or letting go.Will their hearts find each other in the silence or will destiny write their last message before they ever meet?

There once was a boy who was an orphan and suffered abuse from his village residents. The only friend he had was the dummy scarecrow on the field, whom he talked to. One day, a wealthy man brutally beat the boy. The next morning, the wealthy man was found dead, and the scarecrow was covered in blood. Terrified, the villagers were convinced that the scarecrow had come to life to avenge its tormented friend. And it was the last scarecrow ever placed again in the fields, considering it a sign of death. — After scarecrow dolls begin appearing in the streets of Riddleford next to murder victims, the town is thrown into chaos.When the hunt for the mystery scarecrow murderer begins, it is only a matter of time before the famous Frontier Hall Opera House employees are subjected to suspicion, each protecting a secret of their own. But is that all that is going on? Or is there something unseen?

Rakna was not normal. No, unmistakably not.

Whether it was his appearance, his personality, his abilities, his identity, nothing about him had ever been banal. Was it his choice?

No. He was merely but a tormented soul doing its utmost to live the life it had learned to never enjoy.

Would being picked by a glorified universal abductor calling itself a system bring something out of him?

Would he finally learn to breathe in the pool of blood that suffocated him? The Harvester does not sow, he only collects.

All he has ever known to feel was loss and the only thing he can do is take.

He will devour their hearts and drink their blood if it is what it takes.