I'm Scattering IQ to the Protagonist - Chapter 91.1

My name is Charlemagne Theron, yes, that’s right, that’s the Theron you think of, and Ajan Lor’themar is my younger brother. Don’t call me Daqiang, or I guarantee you will be beaten to three quarters to death. As a reliable time traveler, I will tell you responsibly, I… “Charlemagne, what are you muttering, today is the day when my younger brother will inherit the position of Ranger General, you don’t want to be used by Cirvanas and Vereesa Hurry up when the arrow hits your nostril.” “…Okay, my dear Alleria, here we go.” When the two walked away holding hands, an imperceptible figure appeared on the spot. “Brother, I wish you a happy Shura field.” I am Charlemagne Theron, I have led the people to participate in the orc war, defeated the ancient gods and the second fool, I also fought against the Burning Legion, and I have made contributions to Azeroth , I bring salt for myself. (PS: Don’t call me Daqiang, unless you want to grow an arrow from a certain key part behind you.) Book Friends Q Group 257692874

- Description from novelbuddy

Whenever our ship encounters a tenth-level storm, my comrades-in-arms will not have the slightest worry, because they know that I still have me on board.

- Description from Uukanshu

A decision can destroy the sun, moon and stars. A finger can kill the Heavenly Overlord. While chatting, the Heaven and ten worlds can be annihilated.

It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.When Aria crashes into Kael’s empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, she’s met not with defiance—but a dare. “You want revenge?” he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation.“Then ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.” His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac.“Hate me until your hands shake,” he growls. “But do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.”Their arrangement is a collision of dominance and delirium. Aria wields her fury like a blade, determined to break him. Kael? He thrives under her wrath, goading her darker, deeper, hungrier.But vengeance turns slippery when every command she hisses ignites his obedience, and every cold glare melts into bruising kisses. Soon, the bed becomes a battleground—her nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpent’s promise: “Chain me with your rage, darling. I’ll still come back for more.”The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, who’s destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, what’s left when the ashes cool?