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

Fang Yang's body stiffened, and he adjusted his robe without any expression, very naturally.


Gong Yajun's clothes were in disarray, that semi-transparent, thin-as-cicada-wing garment hanging off her shoulders.


Her eyebrows were like fine willows, and her lips were like cherry blossoms.


Still kneeling on the ground, her rounded buttocks sketched out a heart-stopping curve.


Sounds of gentle knocking rose from outside the courtyard.


Like rain on banana leaves, it was faint but delicate, very much fitting Hua Lianyue's personality.


Fang Yang frowned, pondering why his own disciple had come to seek him out in the dead of night.


Meanwhile, Gong Yajun lay prostrate before Fang Yang's knees, sitting on a jade mat with her red lips slightly parted, her gaze filled with plaintive allure.


On her face, flushed with the rosy hues of sundown and bearing the mark of years, it seemed as if the sea itself were aflame.


Chapter 150: Hua Lianyue's Secret Rendezvous with the Demon Lord, Ye Qinghong Arrives with Sword in Hand_1