Forgotten Legend of the Bloodied Flower - Chapter 2585: Peaceful

The literature of this other world was atrocious.So, I plagiarized.Don Quixote, Anna Karenina, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, The Metamorphosis… I thought that unraveling the literature of the original world would advance the literature of this other world.“Those who dream and those who do not, who really is the mad one?”“To live or to die, that is the question.”“No matter how fatal the mistake, it is different from a sin.”But then, people began to immerse themselves too deeply in the novels I plagiarized.Can’t a novel just be seen as a novel…?

Seven years ago, after their breakup, he disappeared without a trace.

Now, he reappeared on the eve of her wedding, sparing no means in forcing her to marry him…

With a certificate of marriage, he bound her mercilessly to his side.

From there, this “Cinderella” began her journey as a wife to the heir of a business empire…

Mrs Huo – composed, sharp-tongued, and freakishly smart.

Mr Qin – wife-spoiler to no end and a complete “slave” to their daughter.

Quality love story, one on one. You are welcome to get hooked on this story with us.

- Description from Novelupdates

Viserys Targaryen was born with the blood of dragons and yet lived his life in exile. He was a prince with a lost kingdom and a fading legacy, an immature bastard who died a pitiful death. Unfortunately, that same death was coming for me now… as I found myself in his body right before molten gold fried my brain.Yes. Fuck Khal Drogo, and fuck the molten crown.With the memories from another life, in this world of betrayal and broken oaths, I had the chance to forge a new destiny for myself. Armed with the knowledge of the future, my own cunning, and [The Dragon System], I made the choice to flee from the Dothraki barbarians and take back what was rightfully mine.

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.