MTL - Low Key Star - Chapter 54 [054] Ching Ming Festival (recommended ticket)

Meng Qianqian, at the age of 15, married into the Lu Family to bring joy to the elderly matriarch.On the wedding night, urgent news arrived from the border that her husband had been commanded to go to war. Six months later, he tragically died at the hands of Beiliang soldiers.Five years later, the husband who had been presumed dead returned, and by his side was an ethereal mute woman named Wan'er.Lu Lingxiao said that Wan'er was the descendant of a loyal and righteous family, entirely different from her—a merchant girl reeking of copper coins. He claimed Wan'er was a true paragon of noble character.Lu Lingxiao also said that Wan'er was an eagle soaring in the heavens, while someone like her was nothing more than a fragile flower, unworthy of comparison.It was not until the land was broken, the city walls fell, and she wielded a Red Tassel Spear to crush countless soldiers that Lu Lingxiao realized he had misjudged her.She was not a delicate flower confined within the depths of the mansion; she was the fiercest west wind of Yumen Pass.

“Master, I'm sorry... It's all my fault that you could not break through before your last moments.”

“Don't worry, my disciple. I will not die,” said Xu Fan as he smiled at his disciple, whose face was covered with tears.

“If only… If only I could get you a few more Foundation Establishment Pills...” The genius of the sect knelt on the floor while crying like a baby.

Xu Fan looked at his oldest disciple and sighed. He then took out a Foundation Establishment Pill and nonchalantly threw it into his mouth.

The next second, divine lights of five different colors filled the world.

……………………………………………………………

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As we all know, there is a force that must not be messed with in the Southern Region, thatched cottage.

Among them, the eldest disciple is the Qingyun Sword Master of the Southern Region, with a mastery of swordsmanship.

The second disciple, the Eternal Empress, leads an era.

The third disciple is a great Confucianist in the world, and the star of Wenqu came down to earth.

The fourth disciple, the reincarnation of the demon god, suppressed Jiuyou.

…

Lu Changsheng: Me? I am nothing special, just their master.

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.