How To Live As A Writer In A Fantasy World - Chapter 370: Event (3)

{Author Of Old-World Extra}There was nothing special about my life... except for how I died.I went out in the dumbest, most ridiculous way possible; even a dog’s death would’ve made for a better sight.But hey, that wasn’t even the weird part. Not by a long shot.For whatever reason, my soul had gotten ripped out and shoved into the body of some “Villain” in a faraway land.Yep, you heard that right. A clichéd “Villain.” And I’ve got ten days before he’s publicly executed.This guy—well, I—used to be a Beggar.One that grew into a Seeker, then a Magi, then a Professor, and then...A Sultan.The one ruler of the entire world.Now? I’m stuck facing the people I used to love, ready to pay for all the “evil” I’ve done.Fate seemed hellbent on ending me, no matter where I went, but just as I was about to give up...A Script appeared before my mind’s eye.{Would you like to witness your real history, your Path?}{Would you like to make it past your Promised Day?}{Would you like to become a True King?}{If so, repeat after me…}It gave me one word—ancient, powerful, and clear.“BASSORĀH!”Many paths came together.—This is a story about suffering. Anger. And Forgiveness.Extra Tags: Drama, Reaction, Misunderstanding, Transmigration. Time Travel.

“How did a perfectly fine magic world invested by ghosts?”Aya looked at the ghosts in front of her silently and raised her hand to cast a spell.She came to the past and wanted to change the tragedy written in the history books. But how did these ghosts come with her too?Ah, will she cause early destruction of the world?Uh......“Teacher, if I tell you that I didn't mean it, would you stop being angry?” Aya trembled when she looked at the man in front of her.She didn't meant to offend him!“Oh?” Her teacher looks back and smiled faintly. Did she think she could escape after provoking him?“Ah, ah, ah....”Aya swore that she didn't mean to provoke her young teacher. But it seemed that it was inevitable?QAQ

Rebirth at the turn of the century, people are in Moscow, just got off the plane, ready to study abroad…

Wang Ye originally only wanted to be rich and safe, and to live his own life in a plain and happy way.

But being pushed by the hand of fate, he involuntarily went to the road of oligarchs!

- Description from novelbuddy

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.