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

The flags flying high on the city walls rustled softly in the breeze, like a low war song, heralding the impending storm.


On the streets, where pedestrians usually bustled, there was no one in sight, replaced instead by the occasional patrol of the "Black Imperial Guard" from the Seven Luminaries Transcendent Army.


They were clad in black iron armor, each step firm and forceful; their long spears flashed coldly in the sunlight as if they could pierce through all darkness.


The soldiers' faces bore no excess of expression, only loyalty to their duty and a craving for victory.


Inside the royal palace, the tension had reached its peak; the golden glazed tiles shone dazzlingly under the sunlight, the palace gates were tightly shut, and the guards were like men facing great foes, their gaze as sharp as eagles. Inside the palace, ministers hurried between rooms, clutching the latest combat reports and intelligence, their faces etched with anxiety and unease.


Chapter 412 I Would Rather Never Have Been Born (4K)_2