Mark of the Fool - Chapter 840: The Final Trial

“Do you wish to know what will happen if I drink from your thighs?”Salviana drew in a sharp breath before she whispered, “I might die?”“No, It is I who will die if I don't,” he met her eyes with a lustful hungry gaze, “Spread your legs for me, Fiery-wife”And that she did...~~~{─────────────────~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}──Fiery is married to the demon everybody feared would destroy them someday. He is the greenest reddest flag but now she only sees white. A canvas to paint their love however she deemed righteous.~~~{─────────────────~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}──The Dark Prince, the third prince, is no stranger to the fear and hatred surrounding him. Cold, distant, and possessing a gaze as dark as midnight, he is known throughout the kingdom as the demon prince. But the truth hidden beneath his pale skin is far more dangerous—he is a vampire, living among a royal family that barely tolerates his existence.Salviana, a divine lady of myth, never asked to be married to such a man. Forced into the union, she is thrust into a life where every corner holds a secret and every glance feels like a challenge. Though her husband’s cold touch sends shivers down her spine, Salviana finds herself drawn into his world of shadows and intrigue, struggling to understand the depths of his darkness.With royal enemies watching their every move and Salviana’s own hidden powers slowly awakening, the bond between her and Alaric grows more complicated.Can she survive the dangerous world of court politics, where even her husband may not be fully trusted? Or will the weight of the secrets they keep tear them apart before they can discover the truth about each other?Caught between fear and desire, Salviana can’t help but wonder: Will she uncover the man behind the darkness, or will the shadows consume them both?Married to Darkness is a seductive, tension-filled journey into the unknown, where love and power clash in a dangerous dance that could lead to either salvation or destruction.

Nine Tribulation Immortal Emperor, reborn in the city!One Earth, one Immortal Realm, the difference is as vast as that between heaven and earth!

Hunter Cha Eui-jae, who was dispatched to seal a rift that appeared over the West Sea, was flung out as soon as he closed the rift. When he came to his senses, he was lying in a garbage dump.Starving, he was drawn like a zombie is to blood to a hangover soup restaurant, where he realized that he had fallen into South Korea, eight years in the future.In this era, disaster alerts notify people of rift openings in advance, ASMR videos of slimes gathered from dungeons were trending, and idle hunters livestream unboxings of A-rank longswords.Unlike the past, where people trembled in fear of an impending apocalypse, the future was surprisingly peaceful, leaving Cha Eui-jae feeling empty. Since things had turned out this way, why not start a second chapter of life as a part-timer at the hangover soup restaurant, rather than being a hunter?“That’s strange.”“…”“Have we met somewhere before?”Cha Eui-jae’s plan to quietly spend his remaining days as the only part-time worker at the decades-old hangover soup restaurant goes awry when he encounters a mysterious, gas-masked individual…DISCLAIMER: The story isn't mine

Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

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