Sovereign of the Three Realms (WN) - Chapter 1862: Departure

The moment the little tyrant of the nobles, Roel Ascart, saw his stepsister, he recalled his memories. He realized that he was in the world of a gal game he played in his previous life. To make things worse, he was the greatest villain in the common route of the game!

“I’ll be killed by the main character and the four capture targets ten years from now. Is there still any hope for me?”

Just thinking about the fearsome glints of those sharp swords those beautiful capture targets held in their hands, Roel couldn’t help but tremble in fear.

Till a voice finally sounded in his head.

【Welcome to the House Resurgence System】

There were two daughters in Jiang Family. Each of them was as beautiful as flowers and jades.

Time had caught up with the famine season. One must be sold to survive.

Jiang Yun Zhu pulled the shorter stick and was taken away by a human broker.

Seven years later, Jiang Yun Zhu’s face was even brighter. She was dressed in rich clothes and surrounded by servants.

At this time, she was already the young madam of Marquis An Ping Manor. It went without saying, she was extremely honorable.

It turned out that the human broker sold her to Marquis An Ping Manor back then.

At this time, Jiang Yun Xiu’s face was battered by wind and frost. Every day, she worried about firewood and rice.

After receiving the brocade handed over by her elder sister, Jiang Yun Xiu gritted her teeth until blood came out. If she was the one who was taken away by the human broker…

Returning to the day of drawing lots, Jiang Yun Xiu snatched the short stick first. This time, she wanted to be the one above others.

Jiang Yun Zhu smilingly took the long stick. She thought it was so easy to go from a maid to the Young Madam of Marquis Manor?

Note: The wealth and honor in the heroine’s dream was earned by her own struggle, not by being sold.

Don’t get sold, live even better!

- Description from Novelupdates

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!”