Die. Respawn. Repeat. - Chapter 77: Book 2: Hostage Situation

As a cultivator, Lan Tian never expected she'd been hurled back to the 1970s countryside!Suddenly stripped of her powers, she's surrounded by mud - brick houses and farmland. Facing farming to social quirks with no modern conveniences, she relies on her cultivator's wisdom and resilience.

Yu Xiaotong’s new novel “Fate's Little Feral Consort”. She was a world-famous miracle doctor in the 21st century. If The King of Hell wanted a person to die at mid-day, she would only let that person die in the evening. After going back in time, her soul was now in the body of a cowardly and incompetent lady of Eternal Peace Marquis’s Residence. On her wedding day, she was sent to the bandits by her fiance. Immediately, she gave the useless man a letter of divorce.

Get lost! Vicious stepmother, hypocritical stepsister, cruel father; all of them wanting her life. She has her own Spirit Beast, she could refine elixir pills; she could even effortlessly master new skills. But why did the handsome and domineering ninth imperial uncle entangle her when she was dealing with those hateful scum? She looked back and sneered, “is our relationship that good?”. The man narrowed his eyes and looked as fierce as a beast, “I’ve already held you and kissed you. Do we have to be in bed together? ”

Tang Qiu was a substitute bride–forced to take her half-sister’s place and marry the young master of the Jiang family, a deformed cripple with less than 6 months left to live.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Jiang Shaocheng would find himself a bride?”

“I hear that he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Fengs’ daughter to improve his lifespan.”

Tang Qiu ignored the whispers around her and focused on her husband-to-be, who coughed violently in his wheelchair. At the altar, after they had said their vows, she lifted her veil and knelt in front of Jiang Shaocheng, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips.

The marriage contract was signed. No matter his physical deformities, he was now her husband.

She wasn’t afraid of the scars that marked his face, nor was she repulsed by him being confined to a wheelchair. Every morning, she made him breakfast, attended to his needs, and thought of little else beyond her duties as a wife.

“Young Master Jiang is a cripple who can’t get it up,” her best friend argued. “When he dies, you’ll still be untouched. You should set your sights higher.”

“A sickly invalid like Jiang Shaocheng can’t give you happiness,” her ex-boyfriend insisted. “I’ll wait for you.”

But Young Master Jiang only scoffed. “I have plenty of time left to be with her.”

Later in their marriage, Jiang Shaocheng wanted to enjoy his little wife in all ways–the press of her lips against his, the brush of skin on skin; the way a husband and wife were supposed to. But Tang Qiu refused him, blushing. “No, we can’t. The doctor says you can’t exert yourself.”

Jiang Shaocheng’s desire was surging through him, a heat in his core that demanded to be satiated. He cursed, I should have gotten rid of that doctor and the wheelchair long ago.

But he yearned to make love to his little wife, and so he revealed his true identity. In the blink of an eye, the deformed cripple transformed into a powerful businessman–tall, dark, and handsome. He quieted Tang Qiu’s protests, his body positioned over hers, his arms caging her as she lay on the bed. His voice was low when he asked, “What about now?”