The Grand Secretary’s Pampered Wife - Chapter 674.3: Tyrannical JiaoJiao

WARNING: DARK AND MATURE CONTENT. Readers discretion advised.Serena Alaric wanted nothing more than a quiet life, far from the shadows of her family’s dark past. But when masked enforcers storm her home and drag her into the clutches of the Council of Vitae, she learns her blood is the key to a deadly legacy she never asked for.Lucian Draven is the cold and ruthless leader of a powerful mafia syndicate, cursed to endure unimaginable pain. The Council claims Serena is his only salvation. Yet beneath the Council’s polished facade lies a web of lies, experiments, and betrayal that runs far deeper than either of them imagined.Forced into an uneasy alliance and given a time limit to produce an heir, Serena and Lucian must navigate a treacherous world of power and manipulation, where trust is a rare commodity. As they uncover the truth about the Council’s sinister plans, their hatred begins to give way to something unexpected—a bond forged in fire and blood.But with enemies closing in from all sides and time running out, Serena and Lucian must decide: will they fight their fates, or embrace the dangerous connection that could either save them, or destroy them both?

Abandoned on the battlefield, all he could do was endure the hellish life. He had no family to rely on, as they had turned their backs on him.A soul from the battlefield, Lucavion Thorne.But apparently, he was a lot more than a mere soldier, as fate had many things stored for him.A soul from Earth....When they merged, he realized.He was a one-chapter villain whose sole purpose was to serve as a background setting for the protagonist's tragedy.But was he truly a one-chapter villain, or did fate still have some tricks up its sleeve?Watch the story of Lucavion Thorne as he finds the purpose behind his transmigration and discovers his own fate.

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”