MTL - I Might Be A Fake Cultivator - Chapter 2316 ? Kill High

The meteor pierced the sky and also pierced the peace of the world.

Transcendent power comes to the world, who is watching in the dark, and who is whispering in my ear.

When the roar shatters the sky, when the power steps down the abyss, when all life and death are dominated… They call me – God.

- Description from novelbuddy

Necromancer】, Originating from ancient Europe, these mysterious wizards were often male, knowing how to summon and enslave the souls of the deceased to create undead creatures. Usually, those who practiced this craft had frail bodies, pale complexions, and twisted psyches, shunning and distrusting others. Some, who mastered the art, could even trade their flesh for an immortal Lich’s life. But can someone tell me how to practice the art of necromancy in the 21st century? In a law-abiding society, I can’t even get a skeleton! Misumi Mikoto: Doctor Chen, come quickly and help me examine this body; I can’t find the cause of death! Jounouchi Hiromi: Doctor Chen, come check on this patient first; what exactly is wrong with him?

Ruan Qiuqiu had transmigrated into a cannon fodder that had the same name as her in the novel, Sweet Pampering in Ancient Times: Demon King Husband, Please Spare Me

Right now, there were two paths before her:

Option 1: Continue playing the role of the supporting female character. After a few rounds of being faceslapped by the female lead, she would die tragically in the beast tide.

Option 2: For the sake of the tribe having enough salt, marry the wolf tribe’s former chief, a fierce wolf demon that was disfigured, crippled, and possibly had personality issues.

Ruan Qiuqiu chose the second option without hesitation. She rather go live a peaceful and ambitious-free life than compete with the female lead over some guy.

—

Due to a mishap, Mr. Big Bad Wolf, who had the blood of fiends in him, had become disfigured, crippled, and blind.

He was on the verge of death and his tribe had abandoned him. When he fell to the state of being so hungry that he was gnawing on ice…

The young bride, who his tribe had exchanged 300 catties of salt for, carefully walked to his side and covered his ugly damaged body with an animal hide.

She softly called him, “Husband?”

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.