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... feels like necromancy to me.)

He narrowed his eyes, gaze flicking to the corpse of the officer—the one who'd been drained like fruit left out in the sun. That wasn't divine. That wasn't holy. That was black-magic, rot-slick necromancy if he'd ever seen it.

And he had.

In the war, back on Earth.

Berlin, '45. That bunker. That damned ritual. The things the Nazis tried in desperation—

He forced the memory back into its grave. Not now.

The silence aro ...

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“I want a divorce,” She indifferently said.

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“When are we getting divorced?” She asked calmly, not wanting to deal with a moody husband anymore.

His gaze darkened, “The procedure is going on.”

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“Jun Zixuan, where the heck is our divorce paper?!” She lost her patience and snapped at him.

One of his arms wrapped around her waist as he pulled her closer, “Are you that eager to leave me?” he asked, sadness flickered on his face despite that indifferent look.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, so sad~” The man narrowed his eyes, his lips tilted up in a crafty smile before he continued, “The lawyers said that our case is a complicated one, it might take them a lifetime to draft the divorce papers.”

And in the next second, his lips descended on hers shocking the hell out of her existence.