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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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They flew swiftly up.

In the piercing cold wind, the Empress stood at the forefront, her heart already surging with excitement.

Although she had devoted her entire heart and soul to her country upon her coronation, at this moment, when she saw her citizens, saw them cheering for her, she still couldn't help but tremble with emotion.

Even if it meant sacrificing herself for the sake of the common people, for all living beings, she would do it.

Concerns about face, honor, or disgrace were all inconsequential; history would give her a just assessment.

The imperial robe fluttered, jet-black hair flew wild, all against the backdrop of that cool yet stunningly beautiful face.

The citizens below had all gone mad.

Including the cultivators, so-called young talents, whose gazes burned with fervor as they looked up at the high and mighty Empress, increasingly treating her as a deity.

Even Zhao Cheng's breathing became rapid, a sickly flush on his pale cheeks.