The Sacred Ruins - Chapter 1350

“From today onwards, you will become the Envoy of one of the Main Gods in the Dimensions of Gods. You will travel from one world to another and through that, you will attain what others will never obtain in their entire life.”

The moment these words echoed in Fang Li’s head, Fang Li’s life was destined to be extraordinary…

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“Was trying to forget my past and live a peaceful life… a mistake?”His twentieth birthday was supposed to be a celebration, not his final moments—bleeding out on a bed, betrayed, and left to die.'Taking the life of a ‘good’ person makes you a murderer, but taking the life of a ‘bad’ one makes you a savior… Why?'As death embraced him, he whispered his final words—“The world’s kindness, right till the end..”…Only to wake up in an unfamiliar body.“Wait… I’m Noir Ravenlock?”A doomed heir, born to rule the world yet bound to a fate engraved with blood.In a world where morality shapes strength, survival demands more than just power—it demands understanding.And Noir, a man or perhaps a demon who once saw the world through twisted eyes, may just see something no one else can.

After crossing over into a world of magic, Dean Bruce was mistaken for a powerful sorcerer. Though he initially intended to sternly refuse the beautiful woman’s request to become her mentor, she offered him far too much to say no!Completely clueless about magic, Dean Bruce had no choice but to make up spells on the spot. However, when he saw the astonishing power unleashed by the beautiful woman after chanting his random incantations, he was stunned.The spells he had carelessly invented… could they really comprehend magic and even forbidden spells?As Dean Bruce ascended to the pinnacle of magical prowess and became the Archmage, he candidly answered a reporter's question during an interview with the Alliance: “ never understood magic. I just made up a few incantations, that's all.”People were in awe of him—this, they believed, was the true humility of a Grand Archmage!

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.