Record of a Demon's Cultivation - Chapter 632: Zhou Siyi’s Wedding

Due to the abnormal arrangement of her sixth chromosome, she became a legend in genetic medicine. This is because her vision and hearing are 21 times greater than those of a normal human, while her running, jumping, and arm strength are 33 times stronger, and her regenerative and self-healing abilities are as high as 84 times those of a normal person. However, her father hated her, and people around her disliked her, regarding her as a monster.However, he was the only one who would like to be friends with her. He is the sickly yet most drop-dead gorgeous man in the entire imperial capital. Three steps will make him pant as if he'd just finished a full marathon, and taking five steps was enough to make him cough like a chain-smoker.It is said that one would easily forget the beautiful people of the world upon laying eyes on him.She said, “This pretty boy belongs to me.”

During a party one evening in the royal palace, Rachel, the eldest daughter of Duke Ferguson, was reproached by Prince Elliot for sins she didn’t remember committing and their engagement was abandoned. Rachel informed everyone she had not committed the acts they were accusing her of, but she was dragged away out of the party venue and thrown into the palace dungeon.

Zhang Xiao Qiang is a nobody in this apocalyptic world with danger lurking everywhere, he is forced to wander around and learn the rules and principles to survive. Over the course of time, Zhang Xiao Qiang’s character and laziness slowly wore away from the experiences he faces. Zhang Xiao Qiang becomes more resilient, of course also gaining power whilst watching the lunatics of the apocalypse trampling on everything they could trample on. Zhang Xiao Qiang always maintained a bit of conscience in him. He never had the thoughts of being a hero, yet he doesn’t mind sharing bread from his plate. Zhang Xiao Qiang will continue to live in the cracks of the apocalyptic world until the crack can no longer hold him.

In a world where Lycans and werewolves are sworn enemies, Eve Valmont is a werewolf cursed by a prophecy and framed. Betrayed by her own pack and imprisoned for years, her fate takes a darker twist when she is offered to the Lycan King, Hades Stavros—a ruler feared for his ruthless conquests and deadly prowess. Bound by an ancient prophecy and haunted by the ghosts of her past, Eve is now at the mercy of the one being she should hate and fear the most—The Hand of Death himself.Hades, a king carved from blood and his own soul's decay, determined to avenge his family's slaughter and rid his people of the werewolves. He believes Eve is the key to his victory. To him, she is nothing but weapon foretold by prophecy, a tool he will wield to destroy the opposing forces threatening his pack. Yet, he finds himself craving this powerful yet broken woman. Leaving him questioning if she is truly his weapon or the one destined to unravel his carefully laid plans.***He stalked toward me, a predator closing in on its prey, his eyes dark and unreadable. “So, you laugh?” His voice was low, dangerously soft, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how difficult it had become to breathe. “Hades, I—”“But you only laugh at other men's jokes,” he interrupted, his gaze piercing, devoid of any humor. “Not your husband's.” The accusation in his tone was sharp, slicing through the air between us.A nervous chuckle escaped me. “You can't be serious... He’s your beta, for Goddess’ sake.”In an instant, he closed the distance between us, so fast it left me breathless. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against his body, the heat of him making my skin tingle. I gasped, but before I could say a word, his lips crashed onto mine, claiming my mouth with a force that sent shockwaves through me. The kiss was punishing, hungry—I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.When he finally pulled back, I was trembling, my chest heaving as I struggled to regain my breath. His eyes, dark and stormy, searched mine with a possessive intensity. “You can’t laugh at my jokes...” he whispered, his voice a dangerous rasp as his fingers trailed lower, sending a shiver down my spine, “but you’ll come with my fingers.”I shivered, heat pooling low in my belly at his words, his touch. The world around us blurred, fading into nothing as his hand slipped lower, drawing a ragged gasp from my lips. The look in his eyes told me he knew exactly what he was doing to me, and there was no denying the primal connection between us in that moment.“I don’t need your laughter,” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot on my neck. “I’ll have every other part of you instead.”