Imperial Cultivation - Chapter 88 - 86: Obtaining the Secret Technique

The simulation is over, and the entry is obtained: a showdown!

Looking at this entry, Zhao Meng was stunned.

“How should this term be used?”

“Hey! Here’s a wounded fox!”

…

A few years later, a woman who looked like a fairy appeared in front of him, and said:

“My lord, I’m here to repay my favor!”

This book is also called “Starting from Transforming Monsters”

- Description from novelbuddy

Tao is willing to take the peach blossom system to go to different worlds to complete the task, and the most important task is to fall in love. And every love, must be very sweet and very pet, only to complete the task.

In short, after he opened, every world must show love.

White Lotus: I feel the deep malice from the world. If I say that I am the protagonist, why did I finally become cannon fodder?

Slag Man: It’s too fast to face, like a tornado. If God gives me another chance to come back, please let me love him for 10,000 years.

Onlookers: God, take the two shows and love, we are going to be killed by dog ​​food!

- Description from Novelupdates

One day, in front of my eyes appeared a silver-haired Goddess.

What kind of bullsh*t is this woman spouting?

“…What?”

No, I’m not.

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?