What is the story behind Among the Sleep?

When he returned to the World of Martial Arts, the game was filled with blood and battles! Chen Kaixin had chased after the footsteps of the one emperor, two empresses, three princes, seven dukes, and thirteen aces for three years, but during the eve of the Sword Among Us tournament in Mount Hua, he was ambushed by evil bastards, and was killed so much that his level dropped to that of a newbie. He completely lost the chance to join the ranks of the powerful players in the game! In great disappointment, Kaixin quit the game and got drunk so that he could forget his sadness, but during that stormy night, Chen Kaixin found that he had actually dreamed for a total of three years, because when he woke up again, he woke up to three years ago, when he was still a student.

Lu Wu, an aimless video game developer, had been feeling perturbed ever since he found out he was the direct descendant of a king from the underworld. Other than the title, His Excellency, his ancestor hadn't passed down anything else to him. On top of that, all of his ancestor’s subordinates had rebelled against him and completely usurped his inherited territory. Under the circumstances, Lu Wu built a battle game server with the help of his new mysterious friend and transported gamers from the real world straight to the underworld using virtual reality. They then created the main quest, the character classes, the Instance Dungeon, the storyline, and the non-player characters for the game. Relying solely on these video gamers’ strengths, Lu Wu began his expedition to reclaim his rightful inheritance. What could possibly go wrong?

Back in 1996, when the daughter of the Old Xie family, Xie Wanying, said she wanted to be a doctor, many laughed. "Phoenix begets phoenix, dog spawns dog. A truck driver’s daughter becoming a doctor is as likely as a sow climbing a tree." "I’m not just going to be a doctor, I’m going to be a female chest surgeon," said Xie Wanying. Her words provoked even greater waves of disdain within the doctors' community. Relatives who were doctors ridiculed her mercilessly: "Do you know how high the admission scores are for medical students? Do you think you can make it?" "There are zero female chief chest surgeons in the country. Who do you think you are!" A bunch of people mocked her: "You'll probably only get into a third-rate medical college and end up as a health worker in a small county town. It's easy to imagine what sort of marriage you'll have." After the college entrance exams, Xie Wanying entered the top surgical class in the country with the highest science scores in the province, with department heads in the Capital’s top-tier hospitals vying for her from her internship beginnings. "Student Xie Wanying, come to our digestive surgery department." "No, she must come to our urological surgery—" "Pediatric surgery is in short supply of female doctors like student Xie Wanying." Circles of relatives and friends: … At this time, Xie Wanying independently completed the youngest Tetralogy of Fallot surgery in the country, represented the national association of chest surgery at an international medical forum, and published the world’s first minimally invasive heart valve repair surgery, becoming truly the foremost surgeon in the field of female surgery! As for the marriage concerns that everyone "worried" about: A brother from the Returned Overseas Faction, a hot bachelor within the Capital, changed his QQ profile picture to Junior Sister Xie. The young CEO, a handsome man, came to the hospital every day with flowers, keen to offer a diamond ring. Not to mention, a whole host of suitors had long since worn a path to the Old Xie Family's doorstep...

It all began with a poor orphan who would work every day for long hours to pay for his Aunt's medical bills. When his life begins to fall apart and he is homeless sleeping in an alleyway he hears a robotic voice. {Do you wish to integrate with the Dungeon System} "Yes" he answers, without much to lose. And from then his life had never been the same. He was taken into a dungeon each night to hunt and he began to realise just how little he really knew about the world that was much wider than he thought. Discord Server: https://discord.gg/TtnGfdKanr Note: I do not own cover art

In a twisted version of the Old West, where Native American fables come to life, the land is teeming with blight and cessation. Skinwalkers, Bakwas, Urayuli, and even the dreaded Wendigo roam freely, constantly terrorizing humanity. In this unforgiving landscape, survival becomes the supreme dream, luxury an impossibility. But hope lies in Ether, an eccentric substance that defies reason, and Sigils, granting individuals extraordinary abilities. So, as men and women from the burgeoning East venture into the treacherous West, they must navigate the nightmares that lurk within the wilderness and the horrors from above, below, and within. Survival becomes a battle for the mind, body, and soul. Each step must be taken lightly, lest they fall prey to a grim fate—a forgotten corpse, a demon's feast, or the plaything of ancient and incomprehensible beings. Fools tread where angels fear to gaze, yet not all fools let themselves wilt. Some are simply too stubborn to break.

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling