Word Of Honor Novel Translation นิยาย & เรื่องราว

“THE SKATER KID’S GOT VERONIN EYES. TOO CLEAN TO BE STREET. HE DOESN’T KNOW WHO HE IS. BUT I FUCKING DO.” My pulse stops. I stare at it so long the letters blur. And when I read it again, it still says the same thing. Roman knew. My stomach twists. I close the journal. Open it again. The words don’t change. My fingers are trembling. I flip to the next page. “BLOODLINE UNCONFIRMED, BUT THE TELL IS IN HIS MOUTH—THE WAY HE USES PAIN. THE WAY HE HIDES. HE’S A VERONIN. EVEN IF HE DOESN’T KNOW IT.”

"But she will be able to soon, and I don't think she was bluffing about the intent." The kitchen smells like woodsmoke and the particular warmth of a house that has been lived in through a hard season and is now settling into something quieter. Outside, the afternoon light is the thin gold of early winter, coming through the window at a low angle and landing across the table where we've spread the prophecy documents Vera's translation commission sent over three days ago. Old text, newly rendered, twelve pages of language that the original authors wrote in a period when the wolf world didn't have the vocabulary for what they were trying to describe.

I already could imagine that I ask my question three days later and he says, “I don’t speak Chinese.” As much downcast I was, I knew I couldn’t do more at that point. I went to bed to get some sleep. In those three days, I decided to face those Hanzi signs again. I found some parts that were easier to translate, and I became more and more fascinated with Wang Jian’s life… or his “legend”. I told myself that I was reading it for the sake of my novel but the truth was, I was genuinely enjoying it. Furthermore, in those stories, Wang Jian didn’t seem like a villain at all…

Translation done! OMG, I'm crying, after so many years~lol... Hope you like the translation... Love, queenkimzxie

I flipped through the pages until a page got stuck under my thumb but that was not made me freeze, the words that were once unreadable by me where now clear as day. Somehow I found myself understanding every word and the strange language feeling like I’d known it my entire life. “The cold ones” I read, the words written with very bold letters, I scanned the rest of the book my eyes widening as I read most of it. “They are the one that have defied death and come back to life but not with a beating heart” I read out loud. Somehow the words translated itself in my head before coming out as English words from my heart, I don’t even understand how that was possible.

Winston muttered, taking a thick book from the shelf and opening it. "That’s a witch language dictionary Mr. Winston got from a witch hunter," Triana whispered to Vlador. After a while of reading and writing, Winston put down his pen and looked at Triana and Vlador. "I've finished translating. Shall I read it to you?" With hands clasped in front of her chest, Triana nodded eagerly. "Thank you so much, Mr. Winston. Please read it to us."

The sun's about to go down and that would mean Clyde's on his way back. It took her double the time she wasted on opening the door and the trapdoor to open this chest. It had double the rusty locks and was completely covered with dust. Alessia released a heavy sigh once the last lock clicked open. That took her long enough. The chest creaked open and released a few spiders. After much coughing up of specks of dust, she finally caught sight of what's inside it. "A book?" She muttered to herself and wiped the clouds of dust on the cover of the book, revealing its title. It was a golden-rimmed hardback with an embossed title. . ." L'Histoire de la Magie."

A long blonde shadow appeared and the shining light from the divine power covered the surroundings. Elise feels the warm energy inside her body. The light becomes a bigger and beautiful face that is familiar to Elise. "Alicia….." Elise tears keep flowing. A friend that she long forgotten appears with the light and warmest. "God... I'm saved." -- A/N: l’ espoir is French means the hope END OF THE CHAPTER 9…

“Sold her to her uncle and took off.” Honor had heard every version of this story. She was illegitimate, she was abandoned, she was unwanted, nobody had ever wanted her, her mother was this, her father was that. She’d built up significant immunity. She found the dropped book, straightened carefully, and prepared to leave. “I heard,” Aaron said, louder now, warming to it, playing to the small crowd that had materialized the way crowds always do around cruelty, “that she’s sleeping with her drunk uncle. They’ve got that whole thing going on up there in the woods. My dad says—”

Their actions were steeped in a deep appreciation for life and relationships, values that took precedence over material gains. Amma finally found her voice, her words tinged with gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of her emotions. Then, her gaze returned to her daughter, who was slowly awakening from the ordeal. Rithanya's eyes opened, revealing confusion and a touch of disorientation. Amma's heart clenched as she tried to gauge the impact of the attack on her daughter's consciousness.