Poison God's Heritage - Chapter 819 Funeral

To take a dragon's hoard is to challenge death.The greatest of the sea-drakes wakes, curled on his silver throne; but there is no silver. His hoard is stolen. He rises, screaming, and chases the thief to the ends of the world—only to be shot from the sky.But dragons do not die easy, and never one with such festering hatred. A dungeon core rises from his corpse.If he intends to survive so near the cove of pirates that slew his past self, he'll need to master his powers—and quickly. For these pirates are dragonslayers; they won't be felled by mere mushrooms or spiders.Beneath the lawless Calarata, the young dungeon core will have to fight to survive; and one day, he will return death to the man who killed him.

Though it felt a little awkward to be my good brother’s aunt, it was really exciting to find out how handsome and rich his uncle was.

- Description from Novelupdates

“I'm sorry, Kiara,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “We regret to inform you that we can no longer administer these drugs to you.”I was dying. I was going to die.Kiara Williams was dying from Stomach Cancer. With only a few months to live, she could only stay at the hospital.Alone. Her annoying husband did not come and visit her, only her best friend, Jessica remained by her side. She could no longer pay the bills and was sent home.Arriving at her house she caught Jessica and her husband together in bed. In a fight, her husband pushed Kiara down the stairs.Kiara died.Or did she? She was reborn ten years back, but rather than being destroyed, she begged a strange man for a one night stand unless she may die again.

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”