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

The tomb grew quiet, and everyone exchanged glances, their faces pale. They looked at the corpses on the ground and then at the expressionless Ye Qinghong, feeling somewhat fearful in their hearts.


However, considering the legendary cultivation techniques of the Xiu Xian realm, with their profound and immense power, many from the Jianghu couldn't help but become restless.


"Miss Ye, we do not wish to be your enemies. Your strength is indeed formidable, but if we unite, you may not be a match for us. So, hand over the cultivation technique obediently, and we can spare your life."


"That's right, a wise man knows when to submit. It's up to you, your life or the cultivation technique, make your own choice."


The crowd kept threatening, their tone growing increasingly cold, as they tried to embolden themselves and one another.


Rain began to fall in the tomb, a rain of green hue.


It poured heavily, countless raindrops plummeting down.


Chapter 186: Ye Qinghong Waits for His Master, Hua Lianyue's Tears_2