MTL - I’m a Saiyan, You Say I Have No Blood Following Limit? - Chapter 32

Xu Shiyan was reborn back to forty years ago, the second day of his wedding.

Shui Lingling’s daughter-in-law has just entered the house, and everything is off to the best start.

Farming, hunting, going to the mountains to dig a big ginseng, life in the 1970s was actually quite good.

I didn’t have much skill in my previous life, and I don’t have any grand wishes in this life. I just want to live a good life with my daughter-in-law and cultivate my daughter into a talent.

The eldest daughter likes to write, so let her take the Chinese department of a key university.

The second daughter likes to sing and dance, and the art school is good.

As for that bastard son, the prodigal son, he didn’t have a chance to stuff it back into his mother’s belly in his previous life, so he just wanted to be born in this life.

But why are some things different?

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In a usurped kingdom , amid a war-torn and blood-soaked Italy, Conradin's battleground is set. To reclaim his birthright the crown of Sicily, he must tread a path paved with blood, learning that he must do whatever it takes to ascend the throne.

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In the year 1266, the tale of Conradin, the last scion of an ancient imperial dynasty, unfolds. His once-great kingdom, Sicily, has been ruthlessly usurped first by his own uncle and now rests in the hands of the cunning French Count Charles. Through a treacherous plot involving the Pope, Charles managed to oust the Hohenstaufen from the Kingdom of Sicily and crowned himself as its king.

In the East, powers such as the Despotate of Epirus are keenly observing the instability in Sicily, poised to seize any advantage that may arise from the chaos. Meanwhile, the small Italian communes are caught in the political crossfire, aligning themselves with one side of the conflict or the other based on the prevailing political party in power and their vested interests. These shifting allegiances turn the Italian peninsula into a powder keg, where all-out war seems inevitable.

As the shadows of history close in around Conradin, the world watches with bated breath. Will he emerge triumphant, his name forever etched in the annals of Sicilian glory as the rightful king who defied insurmountable odds, toppling both the Pope and the usurper? Or will he, in his valiant struggle, become a tragic figure, a symbol of lost opportunities and shattered dreams? The future of Sicily hangs in the balance, and Conradin's destiny remains uncertain, poised on the precipice of history.

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Corvin Blackmoor was a man carved by war and betrayal.From the blood soaked deserts of Afghanistan to the shadowed corridors of British Intelligence, he served and watched ideals crumble into lies.Patriotism. Honor. Loyalty.He buried them all long before a Quds Force assassin silenced his final breath.But death was only the beginning.Dragged from the ruins of a dying world, Corvin awakens in Valtheris. A savage world ruled by magic, where gods are myths, and survival is written in blood.He is no longer human.He is the last of the Dark Parasytes, an extinct race once so feared that every kingdom, every empire, and every mage order hunted them to extinction.Armed with Shadow Siphon, the power to replicate the strengths of others, Corvin stands alone at the bottom of an alien food chain.Weaker than a wild beast, with enemies and predators lurking in every forest, every court, every throne.Weakness is temporary, patience is eternal.In a world fractured by ancient wars, between noble Elves, scheming Demons, ruthless Humans, primal Feralis and Aetherborn Corvin will climb.He will feast. He will conquer.And in the shadows of Valtheris, the last predator will rise.No gods. No masters.Only the cold ambition of a man who has nothing left to believe in… but power itself.

Rakna was not normal. No, unmistakably not.

Whether it was his appearance, his personality, his abilities, his identity, nothing about him had ever been banal. Was it his choice?

No. He was merely but a tormented soul doing its utmost to live the life it had learned to never enjoy.

Would being picked by a glorified universal abductor calling itself a system bring something out of him?

Would he finally learn to breathe in the pool of blood that suffocated him? The Harvester does not sow, he only collects.

All he has ever known to feel was loss and the only thing he can do is take.

He will devour their hearts and drink their blood if it is what it takes.