Chilled Cola Cat

Karl awoke to find himself shockingly reduced to a crippled Evil God confined within a bottle.
The Fischer family had inadvertently become his favored members, sharing a fate connected by blood throughout the generations.
They established a secret clan, infiltrated the state, manipulated wars, ascended the God Pantheon stairway, and fought for the honor and future of the family.
They were assassins lurking in the shadows, beloved scholars, esteemed priests, powerful dukes, and legends in heroic epics.
From budding to robust growth, steampunk evolved; the Spirit Realm descended through dreams; witches and ancient gods stepped forth, and people listened to the lost whispers at their ears.
They were both the creators and the enders of stories.
Generation after generation, in a continuous succession, they marched forward.
"Step over my corpse and go on," he said.

From Secret Clan to the Divine Dynasty

Soft music filled the air as the waitstaff, dressed in uniform and smiling, weaved between the tables and chairs.


The silver-haired girl, expressionless, stood up and left. Black Falcon and Darren Fischer were facing each other across a table in the café, deep in conversation. Suddenly, for some reason, the voices of the people around them became inaudible, as if an invisible barrier had formed.


Darren chuckled, raised an eyebrow, and said nonchalantly,


"You and I both know one thing, the Lorne Empire is the most powerful nation on the Ouden Continent, possessing unmatched strength; thinking we can defeat them with our current power is simply a joke."


Black Falcon looked grave, took a sip of coffee, and did not reply. Darren paused, then continued,


Chapter 393: The Shaped God