Rejected No More: The Exiled Princess Returns
Charity woke up in a hellish, acid-rain-soaked slum, trapped inside a bloated body covered in festering, toxic sores. She was the exiled Grand Princess of the Empire.
But the real nightmare wasn't her ruined body. It was the fact that the original owner had used her royal authority to force genetic marriage contracts onto four top-tier, powerful men.
Now, she was bound to them, and they absolutely loathed her.
Hjalmar, chained to a bed in her filthy room, smiled like a feral beast and promised to rip her head off the second his chains snapped.
Braden, a ruthless military officer, saved her from a mutated rat only to look at her with pure disgust.
"If you want to die, go die somewhere else. Don't dirty my patrol sector."
Even the locals mocked her fallen status, and a wealthy heiress publicly framed her for stealing a hundred-thousand-coin energy core just to see her rot in a dark cell.
She was universally despised, physically repulsive, and a lethal biological toxin gave her exactly 59 days left to live. How was she supposed to survive this absolute hell when her starting affection with her partners was at negative 100?
Then, a mechanical voice echoed in her skull, activating a survival system. To purge the poison, she had to harvest emotional energy by making these four men fall for her. Charity accepted the mandate, unlocked a top-tier culinary skill, and grabbed a rusted meat cleaver to start her counterattack.
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Chapter 4
Charity grabbed the handle of the rusted cabinet and yanked it open. A cloud of thick, gray dust billowed out, making her cough harshly.
The shelves were mostly bare. Tucked in the far corner were a few silver, grease-stained tubes.
She grabbed one and wiped the grime off the label with her thumb. It read: [Low-Grade Synthetic Nutrient Paste].
The gnawing pain in her gut overrode any hesitation. She twisted the cap off and squeezed the thick metal tube.
A lump of grayish-brown paste oozed out. It smelled strongly of rotting rubber mixed with harsh industrial chemicals.
Charity pinched her nose, squeezed her eyes shut, and forced the paste into her mouth.
The texture was sickeningly slimy. A violently sour, chemical taste exploded across her tongue.
Her stomach instantly revolted. A powerful, uncontrollable gag reflex seized her throat. She doubled over, violently vomiting the paste onto the concrete floor.
Charity leaned against the wall, dry-heaving, her eyes watering from the physical rejection. This industrial waste was not food. Her human biology couldn't process it.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes hardened. If she didn't get real protein soon, this weak body wouldn't last three days.
She rummaged through a pile of debris near the door and pulled out a heavy, rusted iron pipe. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped it.
Charity took a deep breath, unlocked the iron door, and stepped back out into the lower sector. The acid rain had stopped, leaving the air thick with damp, toxic humidity.
This world was ruled by matriarchs. A female's word was law, and a male's worth was measured by his combat prowess and his loyalty to his bonded mistress. Charity's four bond-mates—Hjalmar, Braden, and two others she had yet to meet—were among the most powerful warriors in the known tribes. They were bound to her by an ancient, unbreakable neural link that the original matriarch had forced upon them. It was a mark of ultimate shame for a warrior to be so controlled. No wonder they hated her.
She moved carefully through the narrow, sewage-flooded alleyways, her senses on high alert.
Suddenly, a low, vibrating growl echoed from behind a pile of industrial trash just ten yards ahead.
A beast stepped out into the dim light. It was a mutated rockback lynx, larger than the dire rat from earlier, its spine lined with jagged, protruding cyber-spikes that glowed faintly with residual power.
The lynx's slit pupils locked onto Charity. It lowered its head, clearly identifying her as slow, easy prey.
Charity gripped the rusted iron pipe with both hands. Her palms were slick with cold sweat. She slowly took a step backward, desperately scanning the alley for an escape route.
The lynx let out a deafening roar. Its powerful hind legs kicked off the ground, launching its massive body through the air like a furry missile aimed straight at her chest.
Charity raised the pipe in a futile attempt to block, knowing the physical strength difference was an absolute death sentence.
A faint hum of a magnetic engine and the soft crunch of tactical boots on a nearby rooftop barely registered over the beast's low growl.
Just as the beast descended, a dark shadow plummeted from the roof of the adjacent building.
Braden Dickson landed squarely on the lynx's back. The heavy impact of his military boots drove the beast straight into the concrete with a sickening crunch.
A high-frequency oscillation blade—a weapon reserved for elite High Guard captains—materialized in his hand, humming with lethal energy.
Without a microsecond of hesitation, Braden drove the vibrating blade deep into the base of the lynx's skull, severing its spinal cord in one clean, brutal strike.
Boiling hot beast blood sprayed across the alley walls. The massive lynx twitched once and went completely limp.
Braden stepped off the carcass. He pulled a black cloth from his tactical vest and meticulously wiped the dark blood from his blade.
He turned his head. His icy gaze landed on Charity, who was still standing there holding the pathetic rusted pipe.
Braden let out a harsh, mocking scoff. "You are nothing but a liability," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Even when you try to die, you make it someone else's problem."
Charity slowly lowered the pipe. She didn't look at Braden. Her eyes were glued to the massive, heavily muscled corpse of the lynx beast lying in the mud.
She could feel the faint, residual bio-energy radiating from the meat. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard.
A wild, desperate idea took root in her mind.
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9.3
Born into privilege, Eleanor never imagined her life could shatter in a single night. Then her father disappeared with his mistress, her mother fell from a building and slipped into a coma, and everything she once owned turned to dust.
Determined not to ruin Jonathan's future with her family's disgrace, she ended their relationship and became the bride of a man trapped in a vegetative state.
She believed that was the last time their paths would cross. But two years later, Jonathan pinned her in the dark and whispered, "Long time no see, my sister-in-law."
7.3
I woke up strapped to a cold steel chair in a neon-lit city that wasn't my reality. A voice in my head called The Warden told me I was bound to a digital hell called the Sandbox.
Before I could even process it, my handler casually sentenced me to death. He scheduled my "digital marriage" to a corrupted error program just to harvest my life for a fourteen percent bandwidth boost.
I barely escaped immediate erasure by smashing his skull and jumping from a high-altitude hover-train into the monster-infested lower sector. But the nightmare was just beginning. I was hunted by glitching data monsters and cornered by Dameon, a psychotic AI target who choked me and promised to delete me piece by piece. Even when Jayson, an elite system agent, intervened to save me, his partner Ellen held a pulse pistol directly to my chest.
"She's a spy. If you don't execute her right now, I am dissolving this team."
If they found out I was actually a real human from the outside world, their core logic would classify me as a virus and execute me on the spot. I was trapped in an underground bunker with three apex predators, one mistake away from permanent digital erasure.
So, I did the only thing I could to survive. I ripped my sleeve to reveal hideous, fake code-scars, looked up at Jayson with terrified, tear-filled eyes, and began to manipulate their core programming.
8.7
For eighteen years, I lived as the lowest Omega in the Silver Moon Pack, surviving only because Alpha Gideon took me under his wing.
But the moment his coffin was lowered into the ground, his wife and the new Alpha son immediately turned on me.
"Her presence has brought a curse upon us!"
Luna Lyra pointed a trembling finger at me in the freezing rain, blaming me for Gideon's sudden death.
She stripped me of my pack ties and permanently exiled me into the deadly wilderness with nothing but a wooden toy.
The entire pack watched with cold contempt as I was thrown out like garbage.
To make matters worse, the new Alpha later hunted me down in the woods, threatening to kill me just to steal the only thing Gideon had secretly left behind for me—an ancient, unreadable book.
I didn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or what terrifying secret this blank book held that made my own pack want me dead.
But the moment my foot crossed the pack boundary, an ancient, immense power I never knew I had snapped free inside my veins.
I was no longer their weak Omega.
And when I escaped deeper into the forest and crashed straight into the arms of a wounded Rogue, my destiny completely rewrote itself.
Because he wasn't just a Rogue, but the legendary Northern Alpha King.
And as his glowing golden eyes locked onto mine, our inner wolves roared the exact same word:
"Mate!"
9.3
The first sign I was going to die wasn't the blizzard. It wasn't the bone-deep cold. It was the look in my fiancé's eyes when he told me he had given my life's work-our only guarantee of survival-to another woman.
"Kelsi was freezing," he said, as if I were being unreasonable. "You're the expert, you can handle it."
He then took my satellite phone, shoved me into a hastily dug snow pit, and left me to die.
His new girlfriend, Kelsi, appeared, wrapped snugly in my shimmering smart blanket. She smiled as she used my own ice axe to slash my suit, my last layer of protection against the storm.
"Stop being so dramatic," he told me, his voice full of contempt as I lay there freezing to death.
They thought they had taken everything. They thought they had won.
But they didn't know about the secret emergency beacon I had stitched into my sleeve. And with my last ounce of strength, I activated it.
9.5
He was born from the void between stars - a being of immense power, forged from cosmic origins.
For thousands of years, he walked among humanity, protecting them and keeping his true strength hidden. After losing the only family he had, grief led him to seek his own end... only to wake up in a world entirely unlike his own.
Here, cultivation is the main path to power. Those who master spirit qi gain superhuman strength, speed, and abilities that place them far above ordinary people. Four great sects rule the land, competing for resources, secrets, and dominance over each other.
Icaros joined the Li Sect, where he found companions he came to trust and care for: the capable and easygoing Li Han, the sharp and composed Su Yan, and the spirited Nelly. For a time, he felt he had found a place to belong, even as he kept his true nature hidden and wondered whether he could ever learn to cultivate like those around him.
Everything changed when their voyage was suddenly attacked. A powerful figure floating in the sky cut their ship apart with sharp, devastating energy strikes, leaving only destruction in his wake. Believing his friends had been lost in the disaster, Icaros chose to stop holding back any longer.
> "I am done hiding!"
He unleashed his full power: golden light blazed from his eyes, he flew at incredible speed, and he broke through every barrier and enemy in his way. On the shores ahead, he tore through hordes of powerful jade monsters, destroying them completely before flying deep into the interior of the island.
Meanwhile, survivors washed up scattered and alone. One young cultivator found himself on the shores of Jade Island - a place most cultivators avoid, as it holds no treasures or useful materials, only danger and endless deposits of ordinary jade. Yet despite the risks, ordinary people have built settlements here, finding safety from the conflicts and power struggles of the outside world.
This island works by different rules. Spirit qi is scarce and unstable, making cultivation far less effective than elsewhere. Instead, the people here rely on advanced technology - weapons and explosives that can injure or even defeat those with great physical strength. Here, skill and preparation can be just as powerful as raw strength, and even the strongest cultivators must move with caution.
Now, Icaros has vanished deep into the island. His companions are lost somewhere across this dangerous land. And the mysterious swordsman who destroyed their ship has already arrived here, searching for an ancient map said to lead to the legacy of a being from another world.
Will they find each other again? And can anyone survive in a place where the usual rules of power no longer hold true?
✅ Chapters 1–19: FREE
🔒 Chapters 20 onwards: PAID
(Continue the journey of power, friendship, and discovery!)
7.2
I am a top-tier Alpha from another universe, but a spatial jump error dropped me straight into a high-security military isolation chamber.
Right in front of me was a terrifying, silver-haired wolf-beastman Admiral, completely losing his mind to a lethal biological heat cycle.
To survive in this strange dimension where my powers were restricted, I had to pretend to be a helpless, terrified girl.
Surprisingly, my mere presence and scent instantly cured his incurable madness.
But this backfired horribly. He became obsessively possessive, treating me like a fragile, priceless treasure.
When I managed to sneak out to the city's lawless slums to gather intel and accidentally saved a dying panther boy, the Admiral went completely feral.
He brought an entire war fleet, blotting out the sky, just to "rescue" me.
He nearly slaughtered the boy out of blind jealousy, forcing me to throw myself into his arms and cry fake tears to stop the bloodshed.
"I'm taking you home. No one will ever hurt you again."
He brought me to his flagship's secret medical bay and ordered the Empire's chief doctor to run a full genetic classification test on me.
I panicked. If they discovered my true identity as an off-world Alpha, I would be dissected or executed.
I immediately commanded my AI system to fake my blood data, aiming for a perfectly average, forgettable Omega result.
But as the machine processed my blood, the alarms blared, and the system overloaded.
The old doctor fell to his knees in absolute worship, and the terrifying Admiral looked at me with wild, starving eyes.
My system had overcompensated. I wasn't registered as average. I was just classified as the only SSSSS-grade Omega in the history of the universe.