Rebirth in Journey to the West: Sun Wukong - Chapter 796 - 797: Gifting the Chaos Fire Seed (Third Update!)

Mature content[R-18+] NO RAPE~~What happens when a psychopath falls in love?~The infamous wallflower and sole heiress of the Falcone empire, Abigail Falcone, was a loner, shy, and reserved. She did not know how to socialize or even how to love until she met him.Desperate to escape her scheming relatives, Abby sought a favor from her late best friend’s fiancé—a marriage of convenience.No one would have ever paired the shy, stammering wallflower with the sinfully handsome mafia leader. However, it quickly becomes clear that Abby is a woman of hidden strength—and Remo Quinn finds his dead heart beating once again.Wary but tempted, she struggles to get through the arrangement without stripping herself of her morals and losing her heart to her husband—a man so beautiful and broken, he will hurt her as much as he will love her.While seeking revenge and amidst the sultry heat of their forbidden desires and secret fears, will Abigail find the love that will change her life forever? Or will she face the punishment of falling for her deceased best friend's fiancé?What happens when Remo finds out his little shy wallflower wife is a little sly fox?——————————————————————Excerpt ~“Beg me to use you, Abby,” he growled, his voice husky with desire.Abby's breath caught in her throat as she struggled to comply with his demand. With a mixture of arousal and trepidation, she managed to whisper, “Please ...Remo...”But Remo wasn't satisfied with just her words. He wanted to see her beg, to hear the desperation in her voice. With a wicked grin, he applied a bit more pressure to her thighs, a hint of pain mingling with pleasure.“Words, little sweet doll. Beg me,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.The sensation sent a jolt of arousal coursing through Abby's veins, her resolve crumbling under Remo's intoxicating dominance. With a whimper of surrender, she found herself uttering the words he desired, her voice trembling with need.“Please...use me,” she pleaded, her heart racing as she surrendered herself to the delicious torment of Remo's touch.Trigger warnings; Self-harm, mental illness, rough sexual acts etc.

Eight hundred years ago, Zhang Ruochen, the son of Emperor Ming, was killed by his fiancee, Princess Chi Yao.

Eight hundred years later, Zhang Ruochen came back to life, only to discover that the fiancee who once killed him had unified the Kunlun realm and opened up the first central empire, known as “Queen Chi Yao”.

Empress Chi Yao – ruling the world, she is powerful in all directions; youth is eternal, immortal and immortal.

Zhang Ruochen stood outside the ancestral hall of the emperors, looking at the statue of Empress Chi Yao, with a raging flame of hatred burning in his heart, “When I rebuild it for thirteen years, dare to call the empress to Huangquan.”

- Description from novelbuddy

Qin Yun, fallen crown prince of Qin Empire. Inherits the martial legacy of nine sun world. The superb martial legacy in his arsenal, insane inscription techniques in his fingertips, surrounded by enemies and beauties abound. But Qin Yun is not satisfied, he wants to go beyond the nine suns into the great astral infinity, to become a GOD.

- Description from Novelupdates

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”