Inheritor Of Magic: The Magi King - Chapter 781 Do I Have To?

Crown Reylin loved three things; flames, fireworks, and bombs. He didn't spare any of these against those who insulted him due to his family. No, Crown Reylin wasn't born in a poor family. He was born into an outstanding family with every descendant prevailing in their industry! But as the first immersive game appeared on the market, Crown Reylin stepped in... to enjoy more of his hobby!

Flames, fireworks, and bombs! Empresses, the kings and their princesses, and many more people will feel them!

It was Reylin's time!

In 1919, Donnie's soul traversed into the United States.To start off, Donnie, just a soldier who had recently stepped down from the battlefields of World War I, was framed by his superior. Before the Prohibition era began, he took over a bar in Atlantic City. With the perspective of a transmigrator and ruthless tactics, he gradually became the largest bootlegger in America.In the roaring twenties, Donnie delved into bootlegging, ran beauty pageants, built his career, and stormed Wall Street.Decades later, when people studied modern American history, they found that the name 'Donnie Block' was one they simply could not ignore!!!Additional Tags: ACTION, TRANSMIGRATION, GENIUS, KINGDOMBUILDING, URBAN, SHOWBIZ, POORTORICH

It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.When Aria crashes into Kael’s empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, she’s met not with defiance—but a dare. “You want revenge?” he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation.“Then ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.” His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac.“Hate me until your hands shake,” he growls. “But do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.”Their arrangement is a collision of dominance and delirium. Aria wields her fury like a blade, determined to break him. Kael? He thrives under her wrath, goading her darker, deeper, hungrier.But vengeance turns slippery when every command she hisses ignites his obedience, and every cold glare melts into bruising kisses. Soon, the bed becomes a battleground—her nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpent’s promise: “Chain me with your rage, darling. I’ll still come back for more.”The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, who’s destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, what’s left when the ashes cool?