From Londoner To Lord - Chapter 75:74. Raiding Plans

In the highly anticipated release of the first-ever VRMMO, Yeager found himself mysteriously traveled back in time. He is poised to rise to the summit and achieve the impossible. Armed with years of gaming experience and a wealth of strategic knowledge from the future, Yeager believes he can bring about the miracle of immortality. But just as the game begins, fate takes an unexpected twist as Yeager finds himself transformed into a young woman. In a tale that challenges identity and defies the limits of virtual reality, join Yeager on a mesmerizing journey of self-discovery as he navigate a world of mysteries, battles, and alliances, all while grappling with his newfound femininity.

The nascent Chaos had just been carved out, and the barren void welcomed the souls from the Otherworld.As the first soul in the Chaos World, Laine automatically became the God of Spirituality.However, divine power stems from Divine Power, and the existence of spirituality was insignificant; thus, the newly born Laine was extremely weak.With no other choice, to avoid being overturned by the torrents of fate, Laine had to rely on himself.He carved out realms, and birthed lives belonging solely to spirituality.He created sequences, scattering the steps to deification.He wove the Magic Net, enveloping the sky, the oceans, and the land.When the bell of dusk sounded, I raised my divine seat and proclaimed to all beings from the pinnacle of the Spirit Realm:There are two facets to the world, the material and the spiritual.The material belongs to the gods, and the spiritual belongs to me, such is the ultimate truth of all things.

After a brutal day on the construction site,Jaxon collapsed onto his cot with nothing but sore muscles, a cheap dinner, and a phone in hand. Out of boredom, he picked up one of those mindless urban web novels—complete with arrogant young masters, all-powerful protagonists, and women falling in love every other chapter.“Who writes this garbage?” he muttered, tossing his phone aside and cursing the story, the characters, and the plot that made no damn sense.Then he woke up inside it.Not as the protagonist.Not even as comic relief.He’s the villain—the arrogant heir of a wealthy family destined to be publicly humiliated, slapped down by the protagonist over and over again.

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.