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... to cut through something. It was a feeling Jake almost never faced in this life.

"Damn it." Jake cursed as he let go of the sword and retreated a few steps away, trying to get some distance between him and the zombie.

He would rather not die because he didn't have a sword in his hand. And looking at how big the zombie got, almost twice his height now, he knew that the enemy would have that increase in strength.

"Please tell me that he gave up speed to get so big." Jake m ...

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The Empress who dies in torture, An Rushuang is her name. After she wakes up, she finds herself has time-travelled to when she was twelve years old, but she would turn into Major General’s white horse at night. He is a general who orders about the winds and clouds on the battlefield, and she is a little girl lives in her boudoir seclusively.
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“Growing old with you under the same roof is my long-cherished wish”, thought them both.

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Buried alive. Forgotten by the world. Cursed to refine death itself.Rin Xie clawed his way out of his own grave with nothing but broken nails, shattered bones, and a core pulsing with rot. In a world where the heavens punish the wicked with celestial fire, where death cultivators are hunted like beasts, Rin awakens with a forbidden path—one that feeds on pain, suffering, and the ashes of the dead.He cannot heal. He cannot forget. But every wound, every betrayal, every death he witnesses becomes fuel for his ascension.Under a crimson eclipse, he walks through battlefields where spirits still scream. In deserts of bone, he consumes lotus flowers blooming from despair. He learns techniques the heavens sealed away in fear—Soul Wither Pulse, Requiem Bloom, Grief Reclamation.But the deeper he dives into death, the less human he becomes.He no longer cries for the fallen.He no longer prays for peace.He begins to wonder—what kind of death should he become?In a world where power devours morality, Rin Xie will either become the end of all things...Or something worse.

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Playing in the second world, in the world of cutting the red pupil, who still remembers Esthers?

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