Apocalypse Hunter - Chapter 45

Wen Nan accidentally gets involved in a strategy romance game. Although the game's art style is somewhat eerie, it excels in the depiction of female characters, each remarkably vivid.Wen Nan happily makes it to the end through one sweet romantic encounter after another.[Congratulations! You are the first player to pass this horror escape game!]Wen Nan sits on the throne, with fragrance in the left hand and snow-white in the right, and is stunned upon hearing the system's congratulatory words:“Huh? Horror game? Isn't this a strategy romance game?!”

Demien Walter died on a rain-soaked road in 2025, his career a footnote in football history.A journeyman midfielder whose playing days ended in obscurity. A tactical obsessive whose notebooks gathered dust. A coach whose first opportunity came too late and ended too soon.Until he opened his eyes in 2003, inhabiting the body of Yves Laurent — head coach of AS Monaco.Now, armed with twenty years of football knowledge from a future that hasn't happened yet, Demien faces the ultimate tactical challenge: rewriting history from the touchline.He knows which players will become legends. He remembers which matches change careers. He's witnessed the tactical revolutions that transformed the game.Monaco is just the beginning. With each victory, each tactical masterclass, each deviation from the timeline he remembers, Demien alters football's destiny. From the Champions League's bright lights to World Cup glory, from Milan to Madrid to Manchester, his journey will reshape the beautiful game in ways no one could predict.No cheat codes. No supernatural abilities. No second chances.Just a man with future knowledge in a past world, attempting to build a legacy that even death couldn't erase.Football isn't just played on the pitch. It's won in the mind.And Demien Walter's mind has already lived through everything that's about to happen.

Tang Qiu was a substitute bride–forced to take her half-sister’s place and marry the young master of the Jiang family, a deformed cripple with less than 6 months left to live.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Jiang Shaocheng would find himself a bride?”

“I hear that he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Fengs’ daughter to improve his lifespan.”

Tang Qiu ignored the whispers around her and focused on her husband-to-be, who coughed violently in his wheelchair. At the altar, after they had said their vows, she lifted her veil and knelt in front of Jiang Shaocheng, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips.

The marriage contract was signed. No matter his physical deformities, he was now her husband.

She wasn’t afraid of the scars that marked his face, nor was she repulsed by him being confined to a wheelchair. Every morning, she made him breakfast, attended to his needs, and thought of little else beyond her duties as a wife.

“Young Master Jiang is a cripple who can’t get it up,” her best friend argued. “When he dies, you’ll still be untouched. You should set your sights higher.”

“A sickly invalid like Jiang Shaocheng can’t give you happiness,” her ex-boyfriend insisted. “I’ll wait for you.”

But Young Master Jiang only scoffed. “I have plenty of time left to be with her.”

Later in their marriage, Jiang Shaocheng wanted to enjoy his little wife in all ways–the press of her lips against his, the brush of skin on skin; the way a husband and wife were supposed to. But Tang Qiu refused him, blushing. “No, we can’t. The doctor says you can’t exert yourself.”

Jiang Shaocheng’s desire was surging through him, a heat in his core that demanded to be satiated. He cursed, I should have gotten rid of that doctor and the wheelchair long ago.

But he yearned to make love to his little wife, and so he revealed his true identity. In the blink of an eye, the deformed cripple transformed into a powerful businessman–tall, dark, and handsome. He quieted Tang Qiu’s protests, his body positioned over hers, his arms caging her as she lay on the bed. His voice was low when he asked, “What about now?”

The queen’s essential feature is this: [must be a woman or a feminine-looking man].