Demoness's Art of Vengeance - Chapter 395: Still Voice at Night, Map of the Arcane Realm

Seventeen-year-old Grayson has endured a harrowing childhood, leaving him with a dark and twisted philosophy. Driven by this painful doctrine, he imposes his skewed beliefs on everyone and everything around him. His malevolent actions draw the attention of an ancient evil, an entity wrapped in darkness and legend. This being sees in Grayson the potential to carry on its legacy.As the ancient evil begins to mold Grayson for a future drenched in darkness, he finds himself drawn deeper into a web of manipulation and control. Questioning whether he has the strength to defy the fate that has been thrust upon him.Theós, an ancient deity whose origins are lost to time, rules with an iron grip, instilling fear and absolute control over those who dare challenge him.“If it is not within Theós' plan, it cannot be done!”

Violet Blackwood grew up with a perfect life. Her father was the Alpha of the Blue Rise pack, the pack members loved her, and she had a mate who was devoted to her. However, when she finds herself pregnant after an unfortunate premeditated scheme, the beautiful web of lies and deception comes crashing down, revealing the ugliness within.Violet leaves the pack with vows to return for revenge and take back what was hers.Sylas Hale was a mysterious and powerful rogue. No pack dared to cross paths with him, steering clear of him. However, that one night had their paths entangled.The connection between them went deeper than ordinary.

Even in his dreams, Li Tianming can’t stop himself from laughing! Why? Because, his family pets are all the Primordial Chaos Beasts of myth!

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.