Mystic Nine Novels & Stories

I held my phone tightly and it was about to break. "Don't tell me what to do," I said with closed teeth and she giggled. "Don't get angry pretty boy unless I'll be sad," she said with a flattering voice and I relaxed a little bit. "Have you been talking with Mia?" I froze as soon as X mentioned her name, Mia was my kind of my ex and I hadn't spoken with her for about two years. She was part of the nine generals. The organisation was called Nine, because it had nine generals, who were all modified differently, these nine generals were the strongest and they received the toughest missions.

"The Mystic's power comes from a central nexus point—a core essence that anchors all the duplicates." Miranda leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "To defeat a Mystic, you must find and destroy the original source. But the source is never where you expect it to be." "How do we find it?" Isla asked. A slow smile spread across Taylor's face. "Not by looking. By feeling. The pack bond—Liam's connection to you—might be the key." Isla closed her eyes, reaching out through the mental link she shared with Liam. The battlefield crashed into her consciousness—pain, fury, determination. But beneath that, something else. A subtle thread of... wrongness.

However, the attacks were useless across the bloody barrier. “You’re the one behind this! “I’ll hook your soul first!” Unexpectedly, Tiffany found where the Mystic Maiden of the Nine Heavens was. A bloody line was shot out of the bloody moon again. It managed to hook the soul of the Mystic Maiden of the Nine Heavens, dragging her out. “Mystic Maiden!” Alex was astonished. His body was slightly out of control now, and he could no longer swing the Immortal Butcher to sever the bloody line. In a hurry, he sent out the ax to sever it.

Omar uttered when he saw the Ninth Sacred Sect's disciple who spoke, and his face suddenly turned gloomy. "Eh? You recognized me. That's great." The disciple named Jayden had a mole under his left eye, and as he spoke, the mole moved too, which was extremely eye-catching. "You're ranked top ten in the Ninth Sacred Sect's apprentices." Omar's gaze gradually turned cold. He glanced at the rest of the disciples beside Jayden and called out their names. "Stanley Morrigan, who just recently entered the top ten of Ninth Sacred Sect apprentices; Yuri Leightwood, Ninth Sacred Sect's apprentice who never fell out of the top five—"

' "Darryl!" Then, a man in a green robe stepped out and asked Darryl, "You keep saying that they are the real Nine Saint Oracles. What evidence do you have to prove it?" The man was about 30 years old, and he looked fine and educated, but his eyes showed his cunning personality. It was Weston Stanford, the Multi Integrated Sect Master. The Multi Integrated Sect was the second-largest cultivating sect in Mistloren, second only to the Jade Sect in strength. Weston, the Sect Master, had a polished and elegant appearance, but he was a narrow-minded villain.

“I was just trying to touch them and it came falling. And there was someone in there I just wanted to touch..” “Someone, you mean your reflection. Humph!” He puffed and paced around the room. He felt sick. “What’s your name?” “Me?” “Who else. Alien. There’s no one here is there?” “My name?” “What are you called.” She looked confused. And stretched her hands at him. He walked closer to her and hold her hands. And looked at what she was trying to show him. The letter M. Was tattooed on her hand. “You think it’s my name. M.”

My Mysterious Husband The church was stunning—of course it was. Chandeliers dripped crystal from high vaulted ceilings. Golden candlelight danced across the ivory columns, and white petals lined the aisle in painstaking spirals. Aria stood at the altar in her champagne-colored gown, her heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with love. “This is ridiculous,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “Is this a prank?” “No, ma’am,” the priest said solemnly, not even blinking. “Mr. Vale has approved all arrangements. Including the proxy.”

I tried again and again, to the eleventh and fifteenth time, until I could hold on no longer. "Why's everything working against me?" I asked, a little louder this time around, my voice tight with frustration. "Moon goddess, you can see me, right? Why are you doing this to me? Why do you keep frustrating me? This is the only reason I went to Maltos' Castle because I couldn't wait to lay my hand on it." "This is the password for God's sake; why are you deliberately working against me?" I yelled, throwing up my hands in exasperation as my gaze pierced through the ceiling, determined to see her.

I manage to squeeze myself past the clubbers swaying to the heavy music and into the elevator that would take me to the VIP section. ‘Mustafa,’ Justin's voice pulled my attention as I stepped out of the elevator. He stepped out of my favourite VIP room and tilt his head a little. Justin Gregory, is a twenty-six years old tall, lean guy with sandy blonde hair, dark eyes, and sharp features. He owns and manages Sweet Night all by himself and he excelled at what he does. Wearing a blue shirt, dark faded jeans, and a baseball cap to match. He looked nothing like the businessperson he is. Tonight, it seems he wants to lay back and enjoy himself without the hurdle that comes with running such a h