My Daily Life of Farming in the World of Cultivation - Chapter 112 - : Escaping with One’s Life

The novel Chronicles of the Hero of Frosimar is a story about the failures of the protagonist not the successes.“It’s not good.”The First Emperor, who conquered the whole world, closed his eyes with a brief appreciation (after reading the novel).But the moment he opened his eyes again, there were only a few lines about him in the Chronicles of the Hero of Frosimar.This was because he became an imprisoned prince who met death with his first appearance (in the novel).

On the day I went to the hospital for an abortion, I met my husband holding his ex-girlfriend. That woman was just suffering from menstrual pain, but he was taking great care of her and being very gentle.He said, “I never thought of marrying you, so please behave yourself.”He said, “You are just a scheming and fickle woman. How could you bear my child?”I sneered and decided to abandon him!After the divorce, that woman showed off their engagement ring to me. Then, I pointed at the man who had just walked into the hotel and said, “Let me introduce. This is my new boyfriend.”Since then, this tycoon, who was only temporarily working as a doctor out of boredom, somehow got a girlfriend who had come to him for an abortion.

Liang Muqiu seriously doubted if he had read the astrology forecast when he went out today.

He borrowed a fire in the bar, but borrowed it from his ex-boyfriend.

It is said that old partners would never contact each other. However, they hadn’t seen each other for seven years, yet this bastard was not only not old, but also more handsome than before.

Especially when Cen Nan lit a cigarette for him in the dim light, his eyelashes drooped slightly, like when he kissed him under the blossoming tree seven years ago.

Liang Muqiu: Damn it, why was he still a little excited?

It took a long time for Liang Muqiu to wake up.

From the moment he saw Cen Nan, what he wanted to borrow was not fire, but a kiss of reunion after a long separation.

After seven years of separation, he still loved the same person.

Coincidentally, so did Cen Nan.

- Description from Novelupdates

Three rejections. Three shattered dreams. That was Layla’s reality, all because she was different—a half-shifter in a world obsessed with purity. Ostracized, shunned, and finally sold off like a pawn to the most feared ruler alive—the Lycan King. He was ruthless, a king with a graveyard of brides, each one a ghostly reminder of a fate worse than death.Layla loathed him. Hated the way his gaze cold and fathomless, held no warmth for her. Hated how his touch, both thrilling and terrifying, sent an uninvited chill down her spine.---“I hate you!” I screamed, hands clenched so tight my knuckles ached.He sighed, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips, his tone mocking as he closed his book with a deliberate snap. “Stressed, are we?” he asked, strolling toward me, each step reminding me exactly who held the power here.“Lucky for you,” he drawled, rolling up his sleeves as he stopped just inches away, “I know exactly 70 ways to ease those nerves.” His fingers brushed my cheek, a touch that seemed to burn into my skin. “The first… a hug.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he leaned in, breath hot against my ear. “And the rest... well, that's 69? what do you say about that?”I swallowed hard, my heart thudding wildly as he tilted his head, waiting for me to react, that insufferable smirk still in place.“What’s the matter, darling?” he murmured, a taunt lingering in his gaze.---A Dangerous ObsessionCan she resist the pull, or will she dance into the flames of her own destruction?A dark dive into obsession, raw need, and the razor’s edge between desire and devastation.---LYCAN KING CASSIANI will tear her apart piece by piece, feeding the wildfire that grips her with each shuddered breath. Like air to flame, I’ll claim every inch, drawing heat from her skin until it sinks into her bones.Her pulse will race under my hands, her breaths shallow, pleading. Her eyes may scream, but her lips will still murmur my name. That first taste of fear will only feed something deeper—a need that burns through her veins, molten and fierce.And just when she’s too far gone to turn back, I’ll twist the knife, giving her the pain she’s learned to crave.She’ll be the moth to my flame, helpless against the very thing that will consume her.