MTL - Forty Millenniums of Cultivation - Chapter 39 Comprehension the world, the sky!

A young surgeon, who is struck by a system, embarks on a bizarre journey of life.

Our straight (?) bottom woke up ten years into the future and found himself on the bed of his childhood friend… At the start, the bottom was shocked to his very bones, but he soon quickly accepted this premise and found the whole situation to be rather amusing. Precisely then, the bottom once again went back to his timeline — back to when he and the top were just platonic childhood friends.

Landmines include but are not limited to: Sweet & naive bottom, a president story, logic is dead, slow-progressing romance, the protagonist’s name has too many character strokes, the names are hard to pronounce, too many gay characters…

- Description from novelupdates

It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.When Aria crashes into Kael’s empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, she’s met not with defiance—but a dare. “You want revenge?” he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation.“Then ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.” His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac.“Hate me until your hands shake,” he growls. “But do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.”Their arrangement is a collision of dominance and delirium. Aria wields her fury like a blade, determined to break him. Kael? He thrives under her wrath, goading her darker, deeper, hungrier.But vengeance turns slippery when every command she hisses ignites his obedience, and every cold glare melts into bruising kisses. Soon, the bed becomes a battleground—her nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpent’s promise: “Chain me with your rage, darling. I’ll still come back for more.”The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, who’s destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, what’s left when the ashes cool?