Rise of the Harem King - Chapter 70: Descendant

“I’m in desperate need of money to pay Grandmother's medical fee. I will marry Charles instead of Yvonne as soon as I get the money.”

When her sister Yvonne ran away from the wedding, Autumn was forced to pretend to be Yvonne and marry Charles. Her only wish was to get a divorce after a year. Charles is rich and powerful. His name had been linked to innumerable ladies. He had different girlfriends for every day of a year. Neither of them had expected that they would fall in love with each other.

Tong Huaqiong transmigrated to ancient times into the body of the malicious widow Tong Dajiao and witnessed the execution scene where the malicious widow and her children were wiped out. She returned to the year Tong Dajiao had just become a widow.At the age of forty, she was already a grandmother, embodying the roles of both a wicked stepmother and mother-in-law. Naturally, the children she raised were bad bamboo shoots.The only slight comfort she felt was that, as a widow, she didn't have to serve an old husband.In this transmigration story, she lacked all the golden fingers like systems or noble birth.She didn't even have the chance to rise through marriage. Who could a widow marry? Especially with a bunch of burdens.She could only rely on herself and her bunch of bad bamboos at home.Revitalize the family reputation, correct the children's behavior.Treat stepchildren, daughters-in-law, and granddaughters kindly, dismiss the plan of her youngest son to sell his granddaughter to a wealthy family in exchange for tuition fees, force the youngest son to strive through education on his own, use a stick to awaken the second son from being lazy and spoiled to becoming the family's backbone, and rid the youngest daughter of laziness, greed, and love-brain.Reclaim wasteland and plant crops using modern scientific knowledge, turning saline-alkali land into fertile fields, leading the whole family towards a moderately prosperous life; start a business from street vending, selling steamed buns, pastries, marinated dishes, raising pigs, beekeeping... gradually expanding their commercial territory.

# VR # MMORPG #LOGINBEFOREHAND # STONEAGE

Human Origin: Tribe was a virtual reality MMORPG. The player would start from the stone age, build tribes, and slowly develop their culture.

It had attracted countless players of all ages on the day the game was launched and it quickly became the most popular game ever.

However, no one knew that the game was actually created by aliens using a high-dimension technology called the Knowledge Child. Just a year after the game was launched, it started to devour reality.

Chen Ran was a high-level player and was regressed back to the day before the launch. He was able to enter the game earlier than others.

[SSS-grade Unit: Stainless Giant.]

[Effect: Build 10000x faster and gives all the buildings a 10000x boost.]

[SSS-grade Land: Elf’s Forest.]

[Effect: Farming speed and production rate increased by 10000x.]

[SSS-grade Wonder: Light of Civilization.]

[Effect: 10000x increase for the land to philosophers, literateurs, scientists and other professionals that would lead the growth of a civilization.]

He took all of those things before others could even learn of them.

A year later, the game was finally officially launched.

When the players logged into the game, they were dumbfounded by what they saw.

“Are you sure this is the stone age?”

Another year later, the aliens were about to invade Earth, thinking that the human civilization had collapsed.

However, Chen Ran stood on top of one of the 10 thousand Star Destroyer Canon and yelled, “Don’t look down on us humans!”

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”