RefinedPoison

My name is Riveron. This is my story.
Concubine-born, scorned by my own blood, probably forgotten by name.
In my last life, I clawed through a slum. In this one, I claw through a noble cage.
Two different lives. Same goddamn suffering.
I was born into a MARTIAL WORLD, where emperors rule with iron fists, where blades split mountains, and the words of the weak meant nothing.
But none of that mattered to me.
I only wanted one thing: ESCAPE. Escape this house.
And so I chose the quickest path: Imperial Scholar.
Rise through merit. LEARN, climb, climb, and climb.
It was a good plan. It should have worked. But I was blind to a much bigger plan brewing behind the curtains.
The day I left home, I thought I’d reach the capital. Finally, to walk the path of the sages.
Instead, I was AMBUSHED. THEY BROKE ME.
Limbs shattered. Hope erased. Pride reduced to screams.
I survived only by leaping into the sinkhole beneath the lake.
And somehow… I SURVIVED. An angel saved me. But that wasn’t the only miracle.
I awakened a system.
For every gift I give, I can trigger a critical return.
Is this my second chance? My shot at carving a throne into this world?
Fate's gift, maybe? But Fate will regret it. 
I’ve killed before. I’ll kill again.
I’ve conquered once. I’ll conquer more.
Back on Earth, I rose from the dirt.
But here, in this lawless world?
There are no rules to bind me. No laws. No morals. No social media cancel culture.
Only power. And power… that answers to me.
I will rise. I will reign.
I will live unbending once more. How different can this world be? 
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System | Harem | Action | Adventure | World Building | Cultivation | System | Martial Arts | No Yuri | No NTR 
Warning: Coarse use of language/ Detailed Blood and Gore
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The cover picture is mine.

Legacy of a Benevolent Lord

Nysalea spun, startled, instincts kicking in like a cornered cat.

Her boots scraped against the stone, her blade raised halfway before her body screamed in protest.

Pain burst from her side, ripping through her injured triceps. She staggered back a step, breathing hard, cold sweat beading along her brow.

The voice belonged to a man who now stood less than an arm's reach from her.

A man who hadn't been there a second ago.

She hadn't heard his footsteps. She hadn't felt his presence.

That realization chilled her even more than assassins ever had.

He could have killed her ten times over.

And she wouldn't have even blinked.

Nysalea's eyes flickered over him, trying to make sense of the threat.

But instead of bloodlust or menace, she saw something else… something absurdly gentle.

Hallooo~~… Who are you~?