Fanqie catalogue
Books by 夜王小飞
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- 4
From the Fanqie books we index, matched on the author's name.
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A Rehearsal for Life 预演人生
Life doesn't come with rehearsals. One wrong move, and you lose everything! Have you ever wondered why it's seven years? Whether it's love, friendship, or family, seven years is a turning point. This book is adapted from my own experiences. Seven Years is the life insight I gained from going through two seven-year periods. It's fine if it's not your thing. You can criticize it or discuss it with me. Thank you, everyone. Before my father jumped from the twenty-sixth floor, he left me eight words.
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Enshrining the Gods Through Folk Rites: I Claim Divinity Through the People's Faith 俗祀封神：我以民心立神位
Lin Ye, a modern researcher of intangible cultural heritage, guarded the Book of Folk Worship of All Spirits left by his grandfather for fifteen years, only for the museum director to dismiss it as scrap paper and clear it out. A bolt of electricity pierced his soul, sending him into the Great Yu Dynasty, where he became a scattered folk deity of Mount Deadwood, on the verge of disintegrating. His divine essence was broken, his incense offerings had ceased, and only three dying old men still re
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Great Ming: A Butcher Transmigrates into a Penniless Scholar 大明：杀猪匠穿成穷酸秀才
In my last life, I spent twenty years butchering pigs and opened five branches of a meat shop chain. I had money but no education, and people looked down on me. Then, in a single day, I transmigrated and became a penniless scholar in the late Ming dynasty, starving to death. A frail scholar’s body, with the heart of a butcher who knew how to kill without hesitation. While others study for fame and office, I wield my blade to decide the world’s fate. Those who bully me, die! Those who throw the w
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I Transmigrate to the Cultivation World and Paint the Immortal Sect White 穿越修仙界，我在仙门刮大白
Wang Qi transmigrated to the cultivation world and became the lowest-ranking mortal-rooted servant in the Lingxiao Sect. That mortal roots cannot cultivate is an ironclad law etched into the very bones of this world. He accepted it. He’d spent fifteen years scraping whitewash off walls in his previous life, and he’d keep scraping in this one. Until one day, he used the scraper that had come with him to pry open the servant quarters’ earthen wall. What was hidden beneath the plaster sent the
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