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Books by 一轩道人

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Fanqie books matched on the author's name.

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  1. The Eighth Book by Taoist Yixuan 一轩道人的第8本书 Sci-Fi & Apocalypse220k WordsOngoing The smug smile on Musk's face vanished for good the moment I completed the emergency global repairs on Starlink 3.0. “Lin Chen, you're fired.” As cameras broadcasting live around the world pierced my back like countless knives, his face was as cold as the permafrost of Siberia. He personally tossed my still-warm employee badge into the furnace. The metal twisted and warped in the flames, reflecting the sinister ambition flickering in his eyes. And it was at that moment that I knew what I was abo 3Reads8.2Score—Shelves
  2. I Went to the Great Ming to Become a Landowner 跑到大明当地主 Historical270k WordsOngoing A storm that swallowed a ten-thousand-ton ship hurled him into the abyss of the fifth year of the Zhengde era of the Ming Dynasty. Lin Xuan, a modern ocean-going freighter's chief mate, miraculously survives the raging waves of the Pacific, only to discover that he's become another Lin Xuan: a dissolute young master from the Lin family village in Pingyang Prefecture, Shanxi, despised by everyone and about to be drowned in a pond! From the start, he's in a hopeless situation! His family is dirt p 1Reads—Score—Shelves
  3. Sacred Talisman 符祗 Eastern Fantasy341k WordsOngoing On the summit of Qingming Peak, outside the Star-Picking Pavilion, the gale cuts like a blade. The sect leader, Xuan Weizi, stands with his hands behind his back on the Cloud-Watching Terrace. His moon-white Daoist robe is immaculate, its cuffs embroidered with intricate, swirling cloud-script patterns in dark gold thread. The patterns pulse faintly as if alive, drawing in the unseen spiritual essence of the vast sea of clouds below. His features are lean and refined, his long beard floating in —Reads—Score—Shelves
  4. The Brilliant Stars of the Ming Dynasty 明朝那些璀璨星辰 Historical146k WordsOngoing The Ming History, gathering dust on my desk, has been thumbed until its pages curl at the edges. The pine-soot ink in the inkstone has carried its fragrance through the years. As I take up my brush tonight, I suddenly feel the ink surging in the stone, as if countless souls were knocking from behind the paper. Zhang Juzheng’s vermilion notes bloom across the rice paper; Wang Yangming’s philosophy of the mind flows with the ink; Zheng He’s treasure ships break through the clouds; Tang Yin’s peach —Reads—Score—Shelves