A Regressor’s Tale of Cultivation - Chapter 384: Salt (2)

Jun Xie was the number one assassin in modern earth. His skills and knowledge in the field of assassination were unparalleled, his accomplishments unprecedented, his reputation terrified the entire underworld. However, during a mission to retrieve a mystical treasure, a mishap occurred…

He is now Jun Moxie, a sixteen year old super level debauchee, sole heir to the declining Jun family. A family of valiant heroes, left with an old grandpa, a crippled uncle and a debauchee as the sole heir! Accepting the world’s criticism and cold stares with a smile, his new journey begins! His life will be carved by his own will! Rise to the top! Evil Monarch Jun Xie!

“This cup I toast to those I’ve killed in my past life. Forgive me, for there is no chance for you to have revenge. Gulp!

This cup I toast to those whose life I will take in my new life. Forgive me, for you are fated to die by my hands. Cheers!”

- Description from novelupdates

A guy became a brother of Iron man and got the ability to extract genes from anyone. Lets see how he changed the Marvel World

- Description from Novelupdates

“Gege, what does cultivating feelings mean?? Is kissing when you eat someone’s mouth?? How are children born??” The 3-year-old Xiao Tu likes to chase after her ChangZhi gege and ask questions…

Ten years old Cheng Zhiyan had always seemed been studious and hardworking. However, when he heard these three questions, he was stunned and fled in an instant… until one day, a certain thirteen-year-old Xiao Tu pressed Cheng Zhiyan to the wall and kissed him. Then she smacked her lips to savor the taste and said: “It turns out that when you kiss orange juice, it really taste like orange juice ah…” the always calm and indifferent Cheng ZhiYan, once again fled in defeat.

**TN: ChengZhi Yan’s name sounds like orange juice

- Description from Novelupdates

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.