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Soul Land (Douluo) - I can create gods

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Chu Feng transmigrated to the Douluo Continent and unexpectedly glimpsed Qian Renxue's beautiful body. Enraged, she was about to draw her sword when Chu Feng activated the God Conferring System. By conferring godhood upon others, he would become invincible. From then on, what were the Nine Trials of the Sea God? The Nine Trials of the Angel God? All were now obsolete. What were the Hundred-Level Godhood? Godhood Inheritance? All were null and void. From this moment on, Chu Feng would write his own Investiture of the Gods in Douluo! First, he conferred upon Qian Renxue: Thunder God + Angel God… Second, he conferred upon Bibi Dong: Fire God + Rakshasa God… Third, he conferred upon Xiao Wu: Moon God + Flower God… Fourth, he conferred upon Ning Rongrong: Water God + Goddess of the Four Seasons… Fifth, he conferred upon Zhu Zhuqing: Wind God + Goddess of Night… Meanwhile, Chu Feng's own divine positions became increasingly outrageous: Sea God, War God… --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- On my Patreon, I have several advance chapters available if you're interested in more than 100: - For $1, you get 20 fewer chapters than the $2.50 tier. - For $2.50, you get 40 fewer chapters than the $4 tier. - And for $4, you get them all. The number of chapters is updated every 7 days and increases by 7 to 8 chapters. https://www.patreon.com/collection/1899286 My Patre*n: pa*r*on*com/FanTranslator
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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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