Blind Leek

As the owner of an ordinary bookstore, Ling PingAn’s biggest wish was to muddle through life and do absolutely nothing. 
 
However, customers that were right in the middle of their pubescent crisis kept visiting his store in the dead of night.
 
For the sake of his business, Ling PingAn had to mimic their childish tones, sparing no effort to promote the books in his store.
 
When he finally managed to sell his books after going through a great verbal tug-o-war, each and every one of them said that they don’t have money, and that they wish to use various tools that were seemingly divine artifacts as pledge.
 
Looking at these customers, Ling PingAn could only agree to them resignedly.
 
But little did he know that every single book that these customers purchased from him had altered in appearance.
 
“Secrets of Cosplay” became “Lower Abyss Research Report”
 
“Stellaris: Settings for Synth Ascension” was in fact “Gospel for Synthetic Beings”
 
What’s more, in the eyes of these customers, he was actually a horrifying ruler of Diablos, an indefinable entity that held the reins of all realms.
 
In this regard, Ling PingAn said, “I’m not, I didn’t, don’t talk nonsense.
 

I Really Am Not The Lord of Demon

The sound of a drum roused and Tadashi Miyamoto raised from his shock.

He looked at the music stage in fear.

In front of the microphone, a man wearing a mask stood proudly.

His surroundings were as quiet as the night, pitch black.

The cat in his arms had already jumped onto the stage.

The pyramid was reflected in the flickering stage lights.

The Black Pharaoh raised his scepter high.

The blood moon covered the entire dance floor.

The entire dance floor had been enveloped by an invisible strength.

Miyamoto swallowed his saliva. Then, he saw the person wearing the mask raised his hand slightly.

In his psionic sense, Miyamoto sensed that psionic power was like a gurgling stream, quietly flowing around him.

It was as if psionic power had been a stream flowing around him since ancient times.

The black kitten on the table became illusory.

Soul Drummer, Online Creation