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MoboReader - Novels and Fiction Stories
It was a late autumn morning. As the dawn chased the dark shadows, the sun added some warmth to the chilly air. An oil lamp in the cellar of Luo's House lit up. A young man named Zen Luo sat upright in front of a table, shading most of the light of the oil lamp. Quietly he pulled out a battered thread-bound book. Zen Luo was a lean, average-looking young man who had just turned 17. However, there was something mellow about him. In contrast, his eyes were so radiant that even in the dim light projected by the oil lamp, they glowed with charm. "It has taken me a month to finish Heavenly Principles. Its arguments are all very well, but, what I find most revolting are those four words, repaying cruelty with kindness," Zen Luo whispered as he stared at the bean-sized flame of the oil lamp. Melancholy was written all over his face. "Had my father not been so kind-hearted as to believe those four words, I, the direct descendant of my Clan, would not have ended up like this, and father would still be alive…" The sudden noise of the cellar door being unlocked interrupted his flow of thoughts. Zen Luo replaced the melancholy he was feeling with a solemn expression. He promptly blew out the oil lamp and covered himself with the shabby cotton quilt. The door of the cellar flew open and footsteps began drawing close. The man in charge stepped forward and stomped his foot on Zen Luo's bed before shrieking at him, "Still in bed? Dreaming about being the young master of the Luo Clan? Get the fxxk up!" The man was a steward in the Luo Clan. He looked rather wretched. He had a wart on his forehead that often invoked disgust from people. Zen Luo sat up and rubbed his eyes. He pushed off the quilt, before turning and planting his feet on the ground. Silently, he slid on his clothing, socks, and shoes. Although his clothes were old, Zen Luo kept them neatly. He was very meticulous by nature. The steward rolled his eyes, criticized Zen, and then waved his hand. Several men surrounded Zen and forcibly put a thick leather armor and shackles on him. After they were done, Zen Luo followed the servants as they walked out of the cellar and toward Luo's Martial Arts Hall. The Luo Clan owned hundreds of mines and millions of acres of fertile land. As a big and powerful Clan, they were well-known in C County. However, the entire Eastern Region had thousands of county cities, including countless wealthy families and the Luo Clan was almost insignificant in the Eastern Region. Zen Luo was escorted by some men as he climbed out of the gloomy cellar. This was a daily ritual with which Zen was quite familiar. The walk to the Martial Arts Hall meant navigating through numerous pavilions, bridges, and galleries. The Martial Arts Hall was an open area. It was a place where the children of the Luo Clan would come for practice. The entrance was decorated with white marble sculptures of a male lion and a female lion. The ground was one large, black basalt slab. Standing at the entrance of the building, one could feel the power emanating from the Hall. In the middle of the Martial Arts Hall, dozens of children from the Luo Clan practiced martial arts under the guidance of a teacher. They were all dressed alike, in gray robes. They bawled and their boxes whirred again and again. In order to win a position in the family, every child needed to study diligently and practice hard. These children looked like they were more than 10 years of age. On this late autumn day, the wind began to howl around the training children. Nevertheless, sweat beaded on their foreheads. The contrasting heat and cold filled the Hall with steaming white mist. On the other side of the Martial Arts Hall stood over a dozen men who were dressed like Zen Luo, in leather armor and shackles. These men were dejected, bleeding, and wounded all over their bodies. Zen Luo was escorted into the Martial Arts Hall. The guard placed him amongst the injured men. Since most of these men had been bought by the Luo Clan from local prisons, they were now the slaves of the
Desiring God
MoboReader - Novels and Fiction Stories
It was a late autumn morning. As the dawn chased the dark shadows, the sun added some warmth to the chilly air. An oil lamp in the cellar of Luo's House lit up. A young man named Zen Luo sat upright in front of a table, shading most of the light of the oil lamp. Quietly he pulled out a battered thread-bound book. Zen Luo was a lean, average-looking young man who had just turned 17. However, there was something mellow about him. In contrast, his eyes were so radiant that even in the dim light projected by the oil lamp, they glowed with charm. "It has taken me a month to finish Heavenly Principles. Its arguments are all very well, but, what I find most revolting are those four words, repaying cruelty with kindness," Zen Luo whispered as he stared at the bean-sized flame of the oil lamp. Melancholy was written all over his face. "Had my father not been so kind-hearted as to believe those four words, I, the direct descendant of my Clan, would not have ended up like this, and father would still be alive…" The sudden noise of the cellar door being unlocked interrupted his flow of thoughts. Zen Luo replaced the melancholy he was feeling with a solemn expression. He promptly blew out the oil lamp and covered himself with the shabby cotton quilt. The door of the cellar flew open and footsteps began drawing close. The man in charge stepped forward and stomped his foot on Zen Luo's bed before shrieking at him, "Still in bed? Dreaming about being the young master of the Luo Clan? Get the fxxk up!" The man was a steward in the Luo Clan. He looked rather wretched. He had a wart on his forehead that often invoked disgust from people. Zen Luo sat up and rubbed his eyes. He pushed off the quilt, before turning and planting his feet on the ground. Silently, he slid on his clothing, socks, and shoes. Although his clothes were old, Zen Luo kept them neatly. He was very meticulous by nature. The steward rolled his eyes, criticized Zen, and then waved his hand. Several men surrounded Zen and forcibly put a thick leather armor and shackles on him. After they were done, Zen Luo followed the servants as they walked out of the cellar and toward Luo's Martial Arts Hall. The Luo Clan owned hundreds of mines and millions of acres of fertile land. As a big and powerful Clan, they were well-known in C County. However, the entire Eastern Region had thousands of county cities, including countless wealthy families and the Luo Clan was almost insignificant in the Eastern Region. Zen Luo was escorted by some men as he climbed out of the gloomy cellar. This was a daily ritual with which Zen was quite familiar. The walk to the Martial Arts Hall meant navigating through numerous pavilions, bridges, and galleries. The Martial Arts Hall was an open area. It was a place where the children of the Luo Clan would come for practice. The entrance was decorated with white marble sculptures of a male lion and a female lion. The ground was one large, black basalt slab. Standing at the entrance of the building, one could feel the power emanating from the Hall. In the middle of the Martial Arts Hall, dozens of children from the Luo Clan practiced martial arts under the guidance of a teacher. They were all dressed alike, in gray robes. They bawled and their boxes whirred again and again. In order to win a position in the family, every child needed to study diligently and practice hard. These children looked like they were more than 10 years of age. On this late autumn day, the wind began to howl around the training children. Nevertheless, sweat beaded on their foreheads. The contrasting heat and cold filled the Hall with steaming white mist. On the other side of the Martial Arts Hall stood over a dozen men who were dressed like Zen Luo, in leather armor and shackles. These men were dejected, bleeding, and wounded all over their bodies. Zen Luo was escorted into the Martial Arts Hall. The guard placed him amongst the injured men. Since most of these men had been bought by the Luo Clan from local prisons, they were now the slaves of the
MoboReader - Novels and Fiction Stories
It was a late autumn morning. As the dawn chased the dark shadows, the sun added some warmth to the chilly air. An oil lamp in the cellar of Luo's House lit up. A young man named Zen Luo sat upright in front of a table, shading most of the light of the oil lamp. Quietly he pulled out a battered thread-bound book. Zen Luo was a lean, average-looking young man who had just turned 17. However, there was something mellow about him. In contrast, his eyes were so radiant that even in the dim light projected by the oil lamp, they glowed with charm. "It has taken me a month to finish Heavenly Principles. Its arguments are all very well, but, what I find most revolting are those four words, repaying cruelty with kindness," Zen Luo whispered as he stared at the bean-sized flame of the oil lamp. Melancholy was written all over his face. "Had my father not been so kind-hearted as to believe those four words, I, the direct descendant of my Clan, would not have ended up like this, and father would still be alive…" The sudden noise of the cellar door being unlocked interrupted his flow of thoughts. Zen Luo replaced the melancholy he was feeling with a solemn expression. He promptly blew out the oil lamp and covered himself with the shabby cotton quilt. The door of the cellar flew open and footsteps began drawing close. The man in charge stepped forward and stomped his foot on Zen Luo's bed before shrieking at him, "Still in bed? Dreaming about being the young master of the Luo Clan? Get the fxxk up!" The man was a steward in the Luo Clan. He looked rather wretched. He had a wart on his forehead that often invoked disgust from people. Zen Luo sat up and rubbed his eyes. He pushed off the quilt, before turning and planting his feet on the ground. Silently, he slid on his clothing, socks, and shoes. Although his clothes were old, Zen Luo kept them neatly. He was very meticulous by nature. The steward rolled his eyes, criticized Zen, and then waved his hand. Several men surrounded Zen and forcibly put a thick leather armor and shackles on him. After they were done, Zen Luo followed the servants as they walked out of the cellar and toward Luo's Martial Arts Hall. The Luo Clan owned hundreds of mines and millions of acres of fertile land. As a big and powerful Clan, they were well-known in C County. However, the entire Eastern Region had thousands of county cities, including countless wealthy families and the Luo Clan was almost insignificant in the Eastern Region. Zen Luo was escorted by some men as he climbed out of the gloomy cellar. This was a daily ritual with which Zen was quite familiar. The walk to the Martial Arts Hall meant navigating through numerous pavilions, bridges, and galleries. The Martial Arts Hall was an open area. It was a place where the children of the Luo Clan would come for practice. The entrance was decorated with white marble sculptures of a male lion and a female lion. The ground was one large, black basalt slab. Standing at the entrance of the building, one could feel the power emanating from the Hall. In the middle of the Martial Arts Hall, dozens of children from the Luo Clan practiced martial arts under the guidance of a teacher. They were all dressed alike, in gray robes. They bawled and their boxes whirred again and again. In order to win a position in the family, every child needed to study diligently and practice hard. These children looked like they were more than 10 years of age. On this late autumn day, the wind began to howl around the training children. Nevertheless, sweat beaded on their foreheads. The contrasting heat and cold filled the Hall with steaming white mist. On the other side of the Martial Arts Hall stood over a dozen men who were dressed like Zen Luo, in leather armor and shackles. These men were dejected, bleeding, and wounded all over their bodies. Zen Luo was escorted into the Martial Arts Hall. The guard placed him amongst the injured men. Since most of these men had been bought by the Luo Clan from local prisons, they were now the slaves of the
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Syrion’s head pounded as the dull throbbing pain beat a steady rhythm on his skull. The rolling pitch of the ship wasn’t helping as he fought to keep his dinner down. Summoning his magic once more, he tried to burst the shackles that bound his wrists. His efforts brought a fresh wave of laughter from his captors. “Oh yes, Durales told me about your little trick with the fire,” the slaver answered. “Unfortunately for you, those chains were forged by dwarven folk with a talent for rune work. You aren’t the first magician we’ve bound, so save your strength, you’ll need it for the slave pits. If Eleen blesses our voyage, we’ll be there in less than a month.” Syrion could not contain himself. Despite the pain, he burst out laughing so hard that he staggered in his cell. The first mate Durales turned to the captain: “Perhaps I hit him too hard, Has he gone mad?” “It’s possible,” the Captain mused. “Boy, what is so funny? Care to share it with the rest of us?” Syrion slapped his knee between bursts of laughter. Leaning on the bars of the cell he gasped for air, “You said Eleen . . . bless our voyage,” Durales nodded, content that his assessment was correct, and Syrion had been rendered witless by the blow to his head. “I did,” replied the captain. “Pray tell, why is that so amusing?” Syrion answered, his countenance slowly changing from mirth to menace: “It’s just the goddess whose name you invoked, you called her Eleen, the Patron Saint of Sailors, right? The Mistress of the Wind, Soul of the Storm and the embodiment of Nature’s Wrath— that Eleen, right?” “Aye, one and the same, boy. Still doesn’t explain the laughter.” The captain grunted. Syrion met the captains stare, “Her name is rendered differently by the Valaar. They call her Elaina, I would know, she is my mother. And when she discovers I am missing and tracks me to this ship, your blessed voyage is going to come to a world-shattering end.”
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MoboReader - Novels and Fiction Stories
It was a late autumn morning. As the dawn chased the dark shadows, the sun added some warmth to the chilly air. An oil lamp in the cellar of Luo's House lit up. A young man named Zen Luo sat upright in front of a table, shading most of the light of the oil lamp. Quietly he pulled out a battered thread-bound book. Zen Luo was a lean, average-looking young man who had just turned 17. However, there was something mellow about him. In contrast, his eyes were so radiant that even in the dim light projected by the oil lamp, they glowed with charm. "It has taken me a month to finish Heavenly Principles. Its arguments are all very well, but, what I find most revolting are those four words, repaying cruelty with kindness," Zen Luo whispered as he stared at the bean-sized flame of the oil lamp. Melancholy was written all over his face. "Had my father not been so kind-hearted as to believe those four words, I, the direct descendant of my Clan, would not have ended up like this, and father would still be alive…" The sudden noise of the cellar door being unlocked interrupted his flow of thoughts. Zen Luo replaced the melancholy he was feeling with a solemn expression. He promptly blew out the oil lamp and covered himself with the shabby cotton quilt. The door of the cellar flew open and footsteps began drawing close. The man in charge stepped forward and stomped his foot on Zen Luo's bed before shrieking at him, "Still in bed? Dreaming about being the young master of the Luo Clan? Get the fxxk up!" The man was a steward in the Luo Clan. He looked rather wretched. He had a wart on his forehead that often invoked disgust from people. Zen Luo sat up and rubbed his eyes. He pushed off the quilt, before turning and planting his feet on the ground. Silently, he slid on his clothing, socks, and shoes. Although his clothes were old, Zen Luo kept them neatly. He was very meticulous by nature. The steward rolled his eyes, criticized Zen, and then waved his hand. Several men surrounded Zen and forcibly put a thick leather armor and shackles on him. After they were done, Zen Luo followed the servants as they walked out of the cellar and toward Luo's Martial Arts Hall. The Luo Clan owned hundreds of mines and millions of acres of fertile land. As a big and powerful Clan, they were well-known in C County. However, the entire Eastern Region had thousands of county cities, including countless wealthy families and the Luo Clan was almost insignificant in the Eastern Region. Zen Luo was escorted by some men as he climbed out of the gloomy cellar. This was a daily ritual with which Zen was quite familiar. The walk to the Martial Arts Hall meant navigating through numerous pavilions, bridges, and galleries. The Martial Arts Hall was an open area. It was a place where the children of the Luo Clan would come for practice. The entrance was decorated with white marble sculptures of a male lion and a female lion. The ground was one large, black basalt slab. Standing at the entrance of the building, one could feel the power emanating from the Hall. In the middle of the Martial Arts Hall, dozens of children from the Luo Clan practiced martial arts under the guidance of a teacher. They were all dressed alike, in gray robes. They bawled and their boxes whirred again and again. In order to win a position in the family, every child needed to study diligently and practice hard. These children looked like they were more than 10 years of age. On this late autumn day, the wind began to howl around the training children. Nevertheless, sweat beaded on their foreheads. The contrasting heat and cold filled the Hall with steaming white mist. On the other side of the Martial Arts Hall stood over a dozen men who were dressed like Zen Luo, in leather armor and shackles. These men were dejected, bleeding, and wounded all over their bodies. Zen Luo was escorted into the Martial Arts Hall. The guard placed him amongst the injured men. Since most of these men had been bought by the Luo Clan from local prisons, they were now the slaves of the
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Syrion’s head pounded as the dull throbbing pain beat a steady rhythm on his skull. The rolling pitch of the ship wasn’t helping as he fought to keep his dinner down. Summoning his magic once more, he tried to burst the shackles that bound his wrists. His efforts brought a fresh wave of laughter from his captors. “Oh yes, Durales told me about your little trick with the fire,” the slaver answered. “Unfortunately for you, those chains were forged by dwarven folk with a talent for rune work. You aren’t the first magician we’ve bound, so save your strength, you’ll need it for the slave pits. If Eleen blesses our voyage, we’ll be there in less than a month.” Syrion could not contain himself. Despite the pain, he burst out laughing so hard that he staggered in his cell. The first mate Durales turned to the captain: “Perhaps I hit him too hard, Has he gone mad?” “It’s possible,” the Captain mused. “Boy, what is so funny? Care to share it with the rest of us?” Syrion slapped his knee between bursts of laughter. Leaning on the bars of the cell he gasped for air, “You said Eleen . . . bless our voyage,” Durales nodded, content that his assessment was correct, and Syrion had been rendered witless by the blow to his head. “I did,” replied the captain. “Pray tell, why is that so amusing?” Syrion answered, his countenance slowly changing from mirth to menace: “It’s just the goddess whose name you invoked, you called her Eleen, the Patron Saint of Sailors, right? The Mistress of the Wind, Soul of the Storm and the embodiment of Nature’s Wrath— that Eleen, right?” “Aye, one and the same, boy. Still doesn’t explain the laughter.” The captain grunted. Syrion met the captains stare, “Her name is rendered differently by the Valaar. They call her Elaina, I would know, she is my mother. And when she discovers I am missing and tracks me to this ship, your blessed voyage is going to come to a world-shattering end.”
BG Guingona
Earlier today, we invoked the principle of transparency, in aid of legislation, to question how the budget (taxpayers’ money) is being spent during the COVID-19 pandemic. Did we over-allocate or under-allocate funds? Likewise, we requested an update/ situation report on the on-going battle against the pandemic. With all due respect to my esteemed and veteran lawyer-colleague, the discussion below was about the authority and the legality of the Sangguninang Panlungsod to conduct a committee meeting to see whether or not certain amendments to our existing COVID-19 Ordinance are necessary. We also manifested the parameters of the legislative proceeding. In my humble opinion, the committee meeting was in order, and should continue to shed light on how people’s money is being spent. : Emedia Mo
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"One point needs to be emphasized: The Trump administration, like its predecessors, regularly uses the Defense Production Act — but until Friday it had refused to use it to help the victims of covid-19," writes Joshua Gotbaum in Opinions.
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Saint Conrad of Piacenza was born Corrado Confalonieri, a member of one of the noblest families of Piacenza, in the town of Calendasco. Conrad and his wife saw the hand of God an event. He soon developed a reputation for holiness, and the flow of visitors left him unable to keep the solitude he sought. Conrad is especially invoked for the cure of hernia. This comes from miracles attributed to him. Today, February 19 is the Feast Day of Saint Conrad of Piacenza. READ MORE: https://buff.ly/31Myvzk
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Agency Growth Secrets
Everyone knows you need a niche if you want to build a digital marketing agency fast. Agencies are so hot right now. It builds a monthly cashflow fast, and you only need a handful of the right clients to replace other income. If you want to grow a digital agency you need to be in a niche. But most new entrants are going into a few very competitive markets. Your success or failure making a full time living comes down to a choice. What niche do I pick? There are 5 that I would avoid like the plague. They are a lot like the Greek sirens. They seem super appealing but in a blink they will pull you down to a watery grave. Most people give up growing their agency here. Michael Phelps can drown swimming against the tide, but my 5 year old can swim with it. Get on the right side of reality and learn the niches you need to avoid. I am also going to show you how to get clients without. > Doing free trials. > Offering discounts. > Selling to people you know. > Pretending to be a student. > Paid ads. > A fancy website. > Cold calling. > Case Studies. > References. > Proposals. > Networking events. > Door knocking. > Carrier pigeons. And it only takes a few minutes and can run largely on autopilot. If you want to build a digital marketing agency fast... Without doing all the stuff that sucks... Click Here to checkout this 10 minute video I put together breaking it all down >> https://www.agencygrowthsecrets.com/automated-agency
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