Lady Qiao in Spring

Fang Yang transmigrated to become the leader of a demonic cult, with his powers completely dissipated and his memory lost. All he inherited was a stack of diaries left by the previous demon lord. He discovered that the demon lord was a philanderer, with ex-lovers and admirers everywhere, each of whom harbored deep-seated hatred for him.
In order to survive, he had no choice but to follow the diaries and pretend to be the demon lord, navigating relationships with numerous peerless beauties, trying to dispel their hatred.
"Your Highness, the moon is exceptionally beautiful tonight, why don't we go out to enjoy it together?"
The Princess of Zhen Nan: "?"
"Empress, please be reserved. For the sake of the people of the world, let us part ways here."
The Empress: "??"
"My disciple, give up. It's impossible between us."
Female disciple: "???"
...
From then on, Fang Yang racked his brains and put on a full performance. He maneuvered among many women, striving to keep himself from being raped or killed by them.
As the old saying goes, one woman is equivalent to five hundred crows.
What about ten or twenty?
Fang Yang, covering his ears that were nearly deafened by the noise, looked at the sensual and stunning beauties before him.
He wanted to cry but had no tears...

My Female Disciples All Have Sinister Intentions

Moreover, because Huang Fuling was rather plump, her feet also felt fleshy and comfortable to hold, whereas this small foot appeared slightly thin and cool.


And most crucially, the enchantress Huang Fuling cultivated the Charming Skill, and she was daring to an extreme.


Therefore, after her foot extended into his hand, it became somewhat restless, constantly teasing him.


But this little foot had been tense ever since it was pushed into his hand, with the toes all curled up together, clearly very nervous.


He lowered his head and glanced, catching sight of the green silk stockings, then turned his gaze toward his eldest disciple.


He found Ye Qinghong lying in his embrace, expressionless, her profile icy, her pupils devoid of any ripples, yet her hands were clenched tightly around the sword.


Even tiny blue veins were visible on the backs of her hands.


That translucent earlobe was bright red, as if it could drip blood.


Chapter 118: Two Women Fight Under the Table (Please Subscribe)_2