The Job of an Imperial Concubine - Chapter 49: Pregnant? (有孕?)

An RPG gamer who played the realistic VRMMORPG ‘The Amber Sword’ for years, finds himself teleported to a parallel world that resembled the game greatly. He takes on the body of an NPC who was fated to die, and with the feelings of the dying NPC and his own heartrending events in the game, he sets out to change the fate of a kingdom that was doomed to tragedy.

- Description from novelupdates

I transmigrated to the Great Qin empire to find myself a famous good-for-nothing in Ye Manor and the subject of ridicule of everyone. But thankfully, my dantian is the planet Earth.

When the Earthlings cultivate and comprehend anything, it will also turn into my own cultivation and comprehension. Each time one more Earthling reaches First Honor Inborn Level, I’d be able to add on the strength of an First Honor Inborn Level to my own strength.

There are 1.4 billion people on this Earth. I’ve hit jackpot.

Reborn in the world of Naruto as the Nine Tails, he finds himself sealed within Uzumaki Kushina. No longer just a mindless beast, he possesses his own will, intelligence, and the power to change the fate of the tailed beasts.Madara : I never thought that my Rinnegan would be crushed by Nine Tails.Hashirama: Times have changed. I once controlled the Nine Tails, and now the Nine Tails controls me.Uchiha Mikoto: Kushina, I didn’t expect you to have something this powerful sealed inside you.Uzumaki Kushina: Each of the Nine Tails' tails gives me a different feeling.At this moment, the Nine Tails stood tall, representing all the tailed beasts.“Tailed beasts will never be slaves!”

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”