Reborn at Boot Camp: General, Don’t Mess Around! - Chapter 4540: Five Years Of Love

To take a dragon's hoard is to challenge death.The greatest of the sea-drakes wakes, curled on his silver throne; but there is no silver. His hoard is stolen. He rises, screaming, and chases the thief to the ends of the world—only to be shot from the sky.But dragons do not die easy, and never one with such festering hatred. A dungeon core rises from his corpse.If he intends to survive so near the cove of pirates that slew his past self, he'll need to master his powers—and quickly. For these pirates are dragonslayers; they won't be felled by mere mushrooms or spiders.Beneath the lawless Calarata, the young dungeon core will have to fight to survive; and one day, he will return death to the man who killed him.

On the wedding night, when the bride hung herself, the handsome husband was sickly, the concubine was glaring like a tiger to see what her best next move would be. Shu Huan who time-travelled to the ancient times encountered such a mess.

Everyone rumored that Z country’s young master Jun was cold-blooded, decisive, and not close to the female gender, but he took in an illiterate little girl as the pearl in the palm of his hand.

However, the little girl brought her case to the table. An illusion, it was all an illusion. What not close to the female gender? Which animal was crushing her every night?

“Baby, let me love you.” The man undressed her with his lips. She retreated pitifully, “Don’t want, don’t want, you’re bad.”

“Women love bad guys.” After eating he turned around to wipe his lips. She kneaded her pitiful little waist, tears falling, “This one is not a woman, she’s just a little mermaid.”

- Description from Novelupdates

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

- Description from novelbuddy