Tearing the Prince's Clothes after Withdrawing Marriage - Chapter 83 I can prove you’re lying right now

recovery. However, I will try my best to work ahead and store drafts. If there are no surprises, the release will be around June 25th. Sending love, happy Dragon Boat Festival. Wishing you peace and joy. / 6.25: I still need to spend quite a long time accompanying her in the hospital. I'm willing but powerless, so the new book will be delayed. Dear readers, please don't wait.Transmigrated as cannon fodder, Tian Sangsang vows to turn her life around.Dark-skinned? I have white teeth.Fat? I can lose weight.Poor? I possess a space.So what if I'm ugly? My son is handsome!The handsome son's father: Ten miles of spring wind are not as good as you~(Note: Not traditional, the heroine has a 'golden thigh' but does not cultivate immortality. Also, the fourth volume actually starts from chapter 288 due to an error in volume arrangement, apologies. If you like this book, please vote for it, thank you!)

The world of Anexia is rotting. The Mist has taken hold over entire continents and continues to spread, not content until the entire world is under its control.Raorka, along with his mother Zoe and father Zack, are thrust into this world after an accident. However they wake up at different parts of the world.Raorka wakes up near the Domed Town of Temuril, where inhabitants speak of the cursed dragon in the woods and the exiled witch who teaches magik...for a price.Zack wakes up near the town of Odania where the red cloaked Chianti Hunters battle against the tyrant mayor and the last Great Kingdom.Zoe awakens near the abandoned Church of Laments, where the cries of persecuted nuns echo, praying for the return of their Goddess and her blessings.Now they journey separately, desperate to reunite with each other amidst the chaos of a dying world.

Bob was a good guy. He had done everything you were supposed to do. He exercised, he kept to a healthy diet, he'd studied hard, gotten excellent grades, and was working towards his masters. Somehow, things just weren't working out for him like he'd been told they would. He was stuck in a thankless position, constantly passed over, and it seemed that the only being on earth that cared about him was his cat.

Then things got worse.

Never back a man into a corner unless you want to find out just how hard he can fight.

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.