MTL - Virtual World: Conquering the World - Chapter 1092 Youquan Temple

Death, Depression, Poverty, Love issues – all things that a 27-year no-name writer faces.

No one knows when the first Clough door appeared. All people know is that a new era began when it was pushed open.Fortresses, sublimators, pillars of star essence, three-dimensional armaments, infinite energy, who can escape the sweeping tide of the times?In the abyss, the reverse realm, the skins, the alien gods, the mad king, the rulers, and the dark creatures, all howl in madness!Inside the black mist, the demons and ghosts crawl forward as a cross-dimensional migration silently brews.

A book about Austria’s recovery to mightiness!!!A history about House of Habsburg’s struggles and successes!!!The Holy Roman Empire — which was neither holy, nor Roman, nor an empire — now came back!!!

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?