A Slave To My Vengeful Lover - Chapter 482 - Journey To The Wedding Ground

Hi there, I’m Chen Mo, as you’ve already noticed from my name, I’m a main character profile, or at least that’s how it was supposed to be. For legal reasons, I won’t be disclosing my real name, I’m a typical corporate slave working 996 at a game development company.Although I hate it, its not all that bad, I hop on with my non-existent friends every now and then doing the usual stuff, yk, cranking 90s, getting the Ws(never) and reading some dogshit wuxia novels with negative translations but I still make it work.That was my life until I was transmigrated into the world of cultivation and took over my boy Chen Mo’s profile RIP lol. Chen Mo’s your typical MC profile, yk, has talent, then gets spiritual roots removed or whatever, engagement annulled, just the usual stuff.Anyway, enough about that, during my transmigration, I somehow got to keep my programmer job, don’t ask how idk either. To pay tribute to my boy Chen Mo for taking his account before he had his heaven defying opportunity to take revenge, I’ll build a sect for all MC profiles in the world. Your engagement got annulled? here’s a cultivation system, your sect got destroyed? here’s a god-level cultivation technique, your spiritual roots are broken? here’s some more.

Chen Xiaoyun, an orphan from Guangzhou, China, once met a girl who looked remarkably like him. Before he could learn more about her, a deadly virus was unleashed around the globe.Humans turned into creatures straight out of video games and movies, and zombies and mutants roamed the streets with no one to stop them.From tanks to jockeys to even invisible zombies and mutated dogs. The mutations are just endless.“Why is there a zombie apocalypse just as I find my family? And why can I suddenly create things from thin air?”Will Xiaoyun survive the chaos with the new people he meets along the way? Will he use his newfound abilities to bring peace to a devastated world?Or perhaps he will just take another nap in the bed like a lazy pig——“Shut up. How am I supposed to do anything when you keep throwing women at me?”

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.

“When the old gods are forgotten, they do not die—they wait.”In the year 1025, the Viking Age wanes.Iceland bows to Christ. The Althing governs by law. And the gods of old fade to whispers.But in the far Westfjords, something stirs.Vetrulfr, a former Varangian captain and exile, returns from the East with foreign gold, forgotten warcraft, and a hunger no man can name.He comes not in peace, but to raise Ullrsfjörðr from ash and ice; building walls, carving runes, and waging war on behalf of a dying faith.From Reykjavík to Aachen, rumors spread: a ghost walks the North once more. Some call him the son of Ullr. Others, a wolf-cloaked demon.But all will know his name.and when the Valkyries call, he will answer.