Beyond the Timescape - Chapter 1088: Xu Qing’s Destination

After being dumped, nine goddesses of breathtaking beauty showed up at my door with marriage certificates, pressuring me to choose one of them to be my wife...

What happens when a goddess falls in love with a shifter?Asara; the goddess of love, was punished by her father, the god of thunder.Her crime being falling in love with a mortal shifter Alpha.To pay for her sins she was reborn as Cassandra LeBlanc; a mortal Princess in the magical Kingdom of Speldaria.Her family and kingdom, except her middle sister, shunned her for she was born without any magical abilities and she had no recollections of her true identity.Her betrothed, the powerful mage commander of the Speldaria, was unbothered by her. He wished for someone strong.Cassandra’s life was toppled when she was gifted a warrior slave by the mighty Alpha of Dusartine. She was asked to take part in the Yearly Arena Event by collaborating with the warrior.Cassandra who hated ‘The Arena’ with her very breath. A place where blood flowed like wine and life was cheaper than the very air they breathed didn't understand her purpose in it.On top of that, the mysterious warrior affected her in unimaginable ways.His hypnotic gaze unsettled her.His rare essence overwhelmed her.His muscular bronzed body consumed her with sinful thoughts.Even the dreams of her past life plagued her.When ‘The Arena' began the hidden agendas and underlying truths came to light and Cassandra was played a hand of fate. She was left with no choice but to give in and choose a path.The question would be.How will Cassandra grapple once she learns of the curse placed on her?Will she be able to obtain her magical abilities and stand up to her father?Who will help her along the journey?~Excerpt~Then she felt him, all of him.All his ruggedness.The strength of his arm.The softness of his lips.The grip of his hand.The warmth of his breath.Every muscle in her body went taut at the implications of sleeping in a man’s arms. She had never slept in a male’s embrace before.Her whole skin tingled like tiny sparks dancing on the very parts that connected with him.The crevices of her brain had these memories which weren't hers. This touch somehow didn't seem foreign to her. She felt safe in his soothing embrace and didn't wish to push him away and yet she knew this was far from appropriate.Cassandra tried to wriggle out of his hold, his arms seemed to be built from iron for they wouldn't budge.The light garment she had worn had lifted from her milky thigh baring it as his bronzed muscular one was draped on it.And now she could sense something poking her back. Her eyes suddenly expanded from the realisation and Cassandra fully panicked.“Let go!” She voiced out, heavily.Siroos slowly lifted his leg and slackened his hold on her waist so she could shuffle away. He had awakened when she had stiffened for the first time but wished to behold what she would try.With eyes blown wide she stole a glance towards the man who had her wrapped in his embrace like a precious treasure, his treasure.His molten gold eyes had flickered open and there was this softness and want with which he stared at her.Those soft brown curls cascaded over his eyes as he forgot to blink, watching the timeless beauty that she was. Her one-of-a-kind fragrance was a torture to his senses.How he wished to grab her dainty ankle, pull her from it and have her sprawled underneath him. To kiss the very skin that oozed such scent which was driving him insane.Instead, he bent his arm and placed it under his cheek using it like a pillow to watch her with desire-filled eyes.The awkward lull between them prolonged as Cassandra cleared her throat.“Did you have to climb on me to sleep?”“It wasn't intentional but was certainly enticing and definitely won't be the last time.” His deeply hypnotic voice was even more alluring this early in the morning as it resonated all around her.

In an inaccessible village, there were a few houses on the hillside.

People from far away were attracted here and the mountain road was crowded with luxury cars, because, in this town, there was a young man with incredible medical skills who could cure all kinds of illnesses!

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.