The Adventures Of The Young Master - Chapter 121 - 10.0 Forging Potential

Everyone transmigrated to the High Continent and became a Lord to participate in the conquest between Lords from all the other races.
A few lucky Lords would receive Lord Talents.
“Hah! My talent is the Knight’s Hall, a Diamond-Tier Lord Talent! My subjects can job change into a unique warrior class, the Combat Spirit Knight!”
“My Lord Talent is the King of Abyss. I can summon demons to become my subjects!”
“I have a lot of subjects who are scientists! I can create advanced technologies!”
“My Talent allows me to cultivate! I’ll become a celestial!”
Zhou Zhou received a Legendary-Tier Lord Talent — 100% drop rate!
Not only could he see the things he would receive from an enemy, but his enemies would drop all of their loot when they were defeated.
“Watch as I make you drop your Talents!”

The protagonist is reborn in the late Roman Republic and becomes a gladiator under Spartacus. How will he escape the tragic fate of being crucified, and how will he survive in the Mediterranean ruled by Rome? Stay tuned!

“Rome must fall! As long as it exists, we cannot escape our fate of death!” — Maximus

Nanzhi only thought she had traveled into a novel about raising a child. Relying on her many years of “Wilderness Survival” watching experience, she hunts rabbits up the mountain for grilling every day, gropes for fish in the river to make soup, and diligently raises the child. Just when she thought her life was finally looking up and she could have her “second spring”, the “husband” who was rumored to have died hundreds of times suddenly appeared. Wait a second!She seems to have ended up in a novel where the male lead is the main character!Nanzhi? Isn't that the cannon fodder and deposed wife?PS: Not a web novel about farming, the female lead doesn't have a golden finger space system. Just turned eighteen and got into university, not a novel about a powerful female protagonist.

[COMPLETE] Can a royal Romeo and Juliet find their happy ending?

Ayleth, Princess of Zenithra, is secretly trained in hand-to-hand combat, and collects swear words she doesn't know how to use. During the Festival of Peace, in which every royal son on the continent will be at the castle for a month, she is instructed by her parents to find a husband. Yet, Ayleth has never even been kissed—until the very first ball, when she meets the man in the Lion mask.

Etan is a seasoned warrior, and the Prince of Summitras. He attends the Festival hoping to find a powerful wife who will help him conquer the dark sorcery of their bloodsworn enemies, the Kingdom of Zenithra. But at the very first ball, he discovers the masked woman who captures his heart is the Heir to the evil empire.

Ayleth and Etan face an impossible battle. Will their love survive? Or will their parents' dark dealings keep them apart forever?

[Mature content. No sexual violence.]

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“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

“No, Ayleth. This changes nothing.”

“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

“Ayleth, please.” His voice cracked on the plea and she stared at him, shoving her mask up and off, despite how it would pull her hair out of the beautiful twist the maid had managed for her.

His eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

She had met her One. And he was the son of her bloodsworn enemy.

She stared at him as he stepped forward again, offering both hands, palm up. “Touch me,” he whispered. “Hold my hands. This is real, Ayleth. I don’t know how it happened, but this is real. Please don’t deny it.”

She couldn’t resist. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, letting her palm catch on the scruff of his jaw. He blew out a breath and put his hand over hers, and that jolt that happened whenever they touched shivered through her again.

“Please, Ayleth.”

“I cannot deny it,” she whispered.