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Mu Gu

Muuunnn
In this life of mine, I've learned something a little strange. Till then I've finally noticed the very existence of odd people who had kept a small part of you in their hearts. Never did I expect that I'd be someone worth admiring. Not to mention, it'll be projected in such different ways; One that competes, one that resents, one that befriends, one that stays hidden and unspoken, and one that transcends them all. Zhi Chunning or ones that people would rather call Mu Gu settled quietly at her desk, eyes gazing far through the window of the school's library. Rather than focusing on her duty as a library monitor, she constantly caught herself thinking, unable to stop. Her head tilted into her palm, with elbow planted at the desk as a support. "Where did it go wrong? What matters more in this life rather than peace and freedom? With freedom, you can do anything you want. Need money, then go to work. Time wasn't the problem, the chance is. But as long as there is freedom, how much hardwork isn't a problem. With peace, you can overcome anything, as stable as possible. Peace underlies a clear and focused heart and mind. Zhi Chunning or Mu Gu; a timid girl, with heart as soft as cotton, but has a pride higher than the sky. She values her peace of mind more than anything. However, one day, after months of changing school, she got admitted as a library's monitor. It was after the holiday of school. On the first day of her duty, a sudden commotion occured. From then on, she still couldn't escape from being entangled with two most popular person's conflict. Who would have predicted that Zhi Chunning would be the turning point of the endless enmity between them, and finally born into something else. Not enough with that, she also had to confront a relentless pursuit of a person which soon grows into something else. This fate bound them into such an unexpected bond. Everyday was filled with happiness, bickering, flirtation. And yet, just when everything finally sit straight in line, one after another ghost of her past slowly haunted her back, and slowly being uncovered by her most precious people. She always has this habit of fleeing away rather than confronting it, but, can she this time, broke this cursed shackle that continuously sinking her under? [ This story is merely a work of fiction. ]
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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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