MTL - The Leisurely Countryside of the Farmer’s Daughter-in-law - Chapter 787 please help me

Notice: This story contains R18+ themes, including violence, sensual and sexual content, blood-related addiction, and dark psychological elements. Reader discretion advised.I died in a library, crushed under centuries of forgotten knowledge. Fitting.Now I’ve woken up in a coffin, starving, undead, and very much not human.They call me a Fledgling—a bottom-feeder vampire barely above a ghoul. I’m weak, hunted, and tethered to a world straight out of a cursed tabletop campaign. It’s a classic fantasy realm—elves, knights, guilds, and dungeons—but twisted by a dark, rotting magic. The moon shines red, the gods are silent, and every town smells like fear.To make matters worse, I’ve been bound to a LitRPG system called the Blood Codex.Level up by draining blood.Unlock skills by embracing your monstrous nature.Resist Corruption... or don’t.There's no prophecy. No chosen one nonsense. No noble title. Just fangs, rot, and whatever I can steal, trick, or kill to survive.But the deeper I sink into this world’s underbelly, the more I realize something is watching me through the system. The rules are breaking. Dungeon bosses are going mad. Entire towns are disappearing.And I think I’m supposed to fix it… or maybe finish the job.

In the blood-soaked shadows of Ancient Japan, one name struck terror into the hearts of daimyō and demons alike.Akira Minato, King of the Shinobi.He slaughtered ten thousand Taira Samurai with his bare hands.He burned Demon Temples, butchered Shoguns and painted shrines with their entrails.He was the true legend of Japan, the nightmare everybody prayed to be delivered from.One quiet night, while chasing a mysterious treasure, he stumbled upon the Ultimate Oni. His escape plan backfired, and he was forced to seal it with his own soul, accidentally dying in a so-called “glorious sacrifice.”And then he woke up in 2025 Tokyo.In a teenage body.Wearing cat-print pajamas.With his powers sealed.And outside, monsters were growing more aggressive.JINKOKU, the Monster Hunting Authority of Japan, was recruiting anyone who can fight them… even if they keep asking dispatch for backup to fight 'those cursed giant centipede monsters under the station.'With no powers, no money, and no way home, Akira Minato had no choice but to take up the blade once more, this time as a registered monster hunter.He would reclaim his strength, find a way back to his era, and if fate was merciful, win the heart of the girl who looked exactly like the one he failed to save.Same voice. Same face. Same name: Princess Yuki.He was once the hegemon of the ninja world.Now he’s broke, underpaid, and hopelessly in love with the nation’s Princess.But even in this ridiculous age…You will call him Shinobi-sama.

At eighteen years old, Lin Qingyu was married as part of a Chong Xi into the Nan’an Hou Mansion, becoming the ill Lu Wancheng’s male wife.

On the eve of their wedding, Young Master Hou lay lazily on the bed and said, “Beauty, to be honest, I really don’t want to engage in domestic struggles. I just want to drift along, eat and wait to die. I want to be a salted fish.”

A year later, Young Master Hou became gravely ill. He took Lin Qingyu’s hand and sighed, “Wife, I’m going to die, but I think I can continue to transmigrate. In order for you to properly recognize me in the future, let us set a secret code.”

After the death of Young Master Hou, Lin Qingyu was prepared to stay a widow all his life. Unexpectedly, after only half a year, the great general who had rendered outstanding military service, actually came to propose marriage.

Lin Qingyu would rather die. But the general said but one statement, “If odd, change; if even, remain the same?”

Lin Qingyu: “…I will marry you.”

After two years, the general died in battle. Before Lin Qingyu even had time to grieve, he was recruited into the palace by the Emperor.

The emperor complained aggrievedly, “Baobei, this time I have became the Emperor. My salted fish dreams have been completely shattered…”

Lin Qingyu knew that although his husband was a bag of lazybones, no one was his equal when it came to conspiracy and schemes.

He rubbed the Emperor’s head. “Don’t think about it. Get started on those reports. Behave yourself.”

In the twenty-ninth year of the First Emperor, Bo Langsha was attacked.

When Ying Zheng merged the memories of the 21st century history doctor, looked at the mighty mountains and rivers in front of him, and said to himself, “In this life, my Daqin can’t die!”

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