Battle Frenzy - Chapter 290 – Faced with the Sovereign of Flames

[space + ancient times kingdom building + escaping from famine]

The big shot from the future, Bai Wutong, transmigrated to ancient times with her space pocket! Before she could feel happy, she found herself in a chaotic world! There was murder, robbery, schemes, sky-high prices, and many other things happening all around! The moment she arrived, she had killed two people. Then, she also kindly saved someone, but was deceived and stalked as the person insisted on following her. If that’s the case, then don’t blame her for using aggression in return!

After she finally managed to settle down, she was assigned to the frontier to develop the lands. The remote lands were out of anybody’s control, and there was nothing more that Bai Wutong could ask for. After a few years, Bai Wutong accidentally led the richest man of the previous dynasty, the prime minister, the commander of the secret guards, a great scholar of the dynasty, the holy maiden, as well as the divine doctor… and turned the barren land into a rich, noble town that everyone desired. When the emperor and his ministers came to admire the place, they were dumbfounded. That man who was pouring tea beside Bai Wutong… Wasn’t that the eldest son of the previous emperor, who had been dead for many years?!

In a tyrannical world, what is evil? What is benevolence? All living creatures are brutal. Passing through the heaven road to find one’s purpose in life. Struggles to be stronger is not an easy path. The whole journey thistles and thorns, one blade chops open a path, I alone will be supreme!

- Description from Novelupdates

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.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”