Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke - Chapter 182 - The Vault of Lost Inheritance

Martin was a succubus who perished at the hands of the Sun God, struck down by a single divine arrow during the epic war between gods and demons. Meanwhile, Martin, a Ph.D. in literature and a seasoned movie enthusiast, lost his life in a car accident in August 2023. By some cosmic twist of fate, the souls of the two Martins converged within the chaotic currents of time and space, merging and eventually settling in the body of an eleven-year-old boy named Martin Myers, living in Los Angeles in 1996.A world without spiritual energy? Fortunately, as a succubus, I don’t need spiritual energy to cultivate; all I need is the essence of desire. Emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, and excitement—are all desires. As long as these emotions are directed at me, they can become fuel for my growth. Alright, let’s see what reliable ways exist in this world to stir people’s emotions en masse. Hmm, becoming a writer—sounds promising; and music, that could work too; but wow, Hollywood movies! They have a global reach; this is perfect! What’s that term again? Right—“Idea Recycler.” I’ll start with writing, but the ultimate goal is to become an international movie star. Acting skills, you say? Don’t worry—I’m a succubus, after all!Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to this novel. All characters, settings, and plot elements belong to the original author and copyright holder. This work is shared purely for entertainment purposes, with no intent to infringe on the original creator’s rights.

Why did going to the supermarket to buy vegetables end up transporting her to the 1970s, where she became the aunt her mother despised the most? She initially thought living in the 1970s would mean experiencing dire poverty, struggling from meal to meal. Fortunately, her grandfather was a devoted revolutionary, her grandmother adored her granddaughters, her father was indulgently affectionate towards his daughters, and her mother was harsh in words but soft in heart. Her uncles and aunt were exceedingly kind to her, and she even had a wealthy mother abroad and a father from a family with deep cultural roots. Wasn't this the prelude to living like a princess? With the advantages of the right time, place, and people, why did her life as the aunt still turn out so miserably in her previous life?A newcomer to rural 1972, Tian Sisi thought destiny wanted her to strive and be inspired, but in reality, it directed her towards a path of happiness and well-being. This story features a touch of levity, inspiration, struggle, and freshness. The female protagonist is no pushover.The new novel 'Spoilt Wife in the Sixties' has started, featuring a sweet romance tale, one-on-one.

Meet Irakiel, the Fairy King with a face that could make the devil jealous, and the “totally not boasting, just stating facts” indirect sibling of the Supreme Nirvana Ancestrial Monarchial Absolute God Emperor.

Life was a breeze until he pulled off a two-million-year resurrection stunt. Now, in a world where everything has evolved, one thing stayed constant – Irakiel's charm. He insists he's not a narcissist anymore, but hey, he's still HIM, blame fate, not him!

Or so he was blaming Fate until he got this notification....

*Ding!*

[Lady Fate is laughing at your luck and sending extremely seductive winks.... with L-lip b-bites?! That's not the end of it!... LADY FATE YOU DARE! Ban!!! EMERGENCY!! We need a thot repellent!]

Since then, Irakiel has never fully recovered from his state of shock.

A Great Author named Oink once said,

“Keep your enemies close and their wives, closer.”

……………………………………………………………

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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!”