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My Female Disciples All Have Sinister Intentions

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...

Lady Qiao in Spring · Eastern
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751 Chs

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In the streets of Chang'an, the rain fell in a drizzle.

Guan Qinghan pursed her lips, and eventually made her way to Fang Yang's side.

With an expressionless face, a look of cold indifference, those frosty eyes seemed to be layering ice upon ice, so white with frost.

At this moment, she seemed to have regained the pride of the Yanqi Sect's young Sect Master.

Not joyous in material things, not saddened by personal woes.

As if all the matters of the world could not stir her in the slightest, but only Guan Qinghan herself knew how restless her heart truly was.

Thump! Thump!

Her heart was beating incessantly.

Almost as if it would leap out of her chest.

Guan Qinghan bit her lip, her knuckles white.

Why, why was it so? Why was she always so weak-willed!

She had made it clear that this was just an ordinary test.

She had become disillusioned with the devil, completely cutting off all thoughts; why then, in the end, was she still so nervous?