Cherreads

Cultivation Start From Archery

NO_NAME1412
Chen Sanshi transmigrated into a chaotic world at the end of a dying dynasty. Fortunately, he had the Grinding System by his side. At first, he just wanted to make a living by hunting—earn some money, and one day join a martial arts school to learn a bit of fist and kickwork. His dream was simple: to become a modestly wealthy man who could live comfortably. But heaven never follows one’s wishes. Officials were greedy and oppressive, martial schools bullied commoners, and to survive, Chen Sanshi had no choice but to enlist in the army, becoming an archer. Starting from [Archery (Beginner)], he ground day and night until he reached [Ten-Thousand-Stone Bow—Every Arrow Unavoidable]. He could shoot down an enemy general’s head from one hundred li (about 50 kilometers) away! From [Basic Spearsmanship for Infantry], he pushed himself beyond limits until he mastered [Dragon Spear of Nation-Suppression—The More He Fights, the Braver He Becomes]. Standing firm with his spear on horseback, he alone could roar and make one million enemies retreat! Years later, Chen Sanshi had fought north and south across countless battlefields. He was now unmatched under heaven, commanding two hundred thousand elite iron cavalry. As his generals draped the imperial yellow robe over his shoulders, he looked helplessly at them and sighed, “You all… you’ve really made me suffer, you know?” ______________________________________________________________________ You can read advance chapters of this novel and other novels in my patreon patreon.com/NO_NAME1412
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I Leash Emperors: The Dead Shout. I Smile

The dead scream for justice. They have been screaming for centuries. In my office on the 88th floor, the sound is indistinguishable from the hum of the paper shredder. I have twelve of history's most dangerous minds in my vault—Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon, Wu Zetian, and eight others whose names are synonymous with the word empire. I stripped them of their crowns and their divinity and left them with the only two things that survive death intact: greed, and memory. Then I put them to work. The boardroom is their new battlefield. Stocks are their arrows. Hostile takeovers are their sieges. The First Emperor runs my supply chains with the same draconian efficiency that built the Great Wall. The Queen of the Nile runs my PR division and calls it beneath her. Caesar rewrites the legal architecture of an entire financial district before breakfast and considers it a light morning. The rules are simple. The Emperor with the highest ROI earns twenty-four hours of full sensory restoration—taste, warmth, the burn of real alcohol, everything the synthetic body cannot feel. The Emperor at the bottom earns something else: a Hell Start. Reincarnation as a beggar, a eunuch, a sacrificial lamb in the next cycle. They know this. It keeps them focused. Every full moon, the tavern opens. The millions they killed in their lifetimes gather as my Jury—compressed into a medium that runs on pure hatred, sustained by a spite so concentrated it has proven, against all known physics, to be a measurable energy source. They vote. They decide which of their tormentors leads the next charge, and which of the most venomous among them earns a temporary body to return to the waking world. Wu Zetian shed her imperial robes to kneel at my feet and beg for a private review of her HR directorship. Arsinoe—murdered by her own sister two thousand years ago—spent six weeks haunting Cleopatra's servers and built a perfect weapon before she ever asked me for the body to deliver it. Cleopatra herself believes her beauty is a currency I will eventually accept. She has not yet understood that in this building, the only currency is performance. I do not need loyalty. I need sharp blades. I do not trade in mercy. I trade in ROI. They believe this is my game. They do not ask why I need to win it. Rules? I am the rule. Harem? The highest-tier spoils of a game they don't know the stakes of. Every arc is a different world. Every world is a wound that needs closing. The Emperors do not know this. They never do. Perhaps the last thing standing between their world and oblivion is a man who stopped caring about it long ago. Let the dead shout. I smile. I have to. Tags: #InfiniteFlow #DarkFantasy #HighStakesPolitics #DivineAutocracy #GrimDark #RuthlessMC #HistoricalFigures #DarkHarem Content Advisory: Heavy power dynamics, sensory manipulation, historical figures in morally compromised positions. MC is an unapologetic autocrat. No redemption arcs.
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