Goddess Collector: Every Hole is a Goal - Chapter 819 - 807

One day, I was given the mysterious power of Hwanmong.

Chen Xi looks at the soldier who just threw a rock weighing a few hundred kilograms away and looks at the sky speechlessly. Is this really the late Eastern Han Dynasty?It doesn't make sense to see Lu Bu single-handedly cut through the ten-thousand-strong cavalry.Zhao Zilong ends up truly possessed by a dragon soul. Is he really human?Dian Wei single-handedly defends Cao Cao as they storm out of the enemy camp and slaughters a few thousand cavalry of the enemy. His combat strength is off the charts!Is there something wrong? Chen Xi touches a goose feather fan and fans it. A strong gale blows and he sighs.“This must be some mythical story, right? Even I'm not normal anymore.”

“Nine Heavens cast down the Undying Tree, from the tomb the Immortal's bones were fetched;Taoist Venerable tut-tutted as they drank blood plasma, Old Buddha relished in the chew of meat;Beasts and livestock rang the Dharma Drum, city foxes and hole-dwelling rats boiled in the pot;In the Immortality Wine, the resentful spirits were fishy, at the Killing Banquet, the Dao Fruit was bitter!”In this world where Daoist Skill manifested, countless Sect Cultivators, Side Door Magicians, princes and scholars, officials of high rank and nobles all coveted immortality!Owl God Tomb, stealing heavenly secrets, Pearl Gathering Skill, Holy Infant Pill, bone effigies, Yin God Shrine, human-transformed monsters, Undying Elixir, Red Line Poison, Blood Immortal insects, Mermaid Meat, gold-threaded robes, Five Poisons Primordial Spirit, Seven Star Life Extension...They killed and harmed life only to steal the “Killing Dao Fruit” borne upon that Undying Tree!Until... a sly “Fishing Man” came to this world.Wang Yuan, born with the Small Book of Life and Death, had but a simple and unadorned dream:Amid bustling strings and smoky vistas, on a night bathed in moonlight, in peace and quiet did I lean on the rail, savoring the wind, toasting to the stars.With his “Bride in bridal clothes,” watching the sunrise at Taishan in the morning, admiring Qionghua in Luoyang at noon, and drinking under the aurora by the North Sea in the evening.“But you all smell so incredibly fragrant!No more, none shall escape, for today I shall crowdfund Cultivating Immortality! Please... my treasure, turn around!”The blood-red veil of the Bride abruptly fluttered to the ground.

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.