Don't confiscate my identity as a human race - Chapter 1171 - 792 Lanci Predicted the Ancestor’s Prediction_2

This book takes you on a tour of one of the most terrifying yet also most mysterious planes in the Multiverse: the Bottomless Abyss. ------------ A Knight, forsaken by his liege, was forced to exile himself to the Abyss. Due to a fortuitous encounter, he obtained the legacy of a Spiritual Cultivator. What kind of story will he encounter? ------------ The setting mixes the backgrounds of editions 3 and 5, adhering strictly to DND settings apart from the protagonist’s profession, but considers readers who have never participated in a campaign, ensuring that everyone can read it without barriers.

When Li Xianyu was 20 years old, he received his father’s inheritance, an 18-year-old great-grandmother who was incredibly beautiful.

Li Xianyu: “Great-Grandma, why are you so young?”

Great-Grandma: “That’s because I died when I was 18 years old.”

He Ruge was addicted to “Your Exclusive Lover” this love nurturing game. Captivated by the attractive military uniforms person, whose original form was a White Tiger Male God.

When the game came to the end, He Ruge suddenly become a mermaid and transmigrated, and he was even the legendary Koi Mermaid with flourishing beauty, charming singing and exceeding good luck?

The place where he fell was even more unusual – the bathtub of the Male God!

___________

The federation’s Xi Guican, a man whose stamp of his foot could make the whole intersteller tremble. During his recuperation, there appeared a love game that could not be deleted from the optical computer.

The plot of the game was his secret past. In this love game, he returned to the experimental days of No. 20, allowing people to slaughter and bully him, there was only one variable.——

It’s his exclusive lover.

The love that came from the light, taking him out of the dark.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.