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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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On a moonlit night by the Twenty-Four Bridge, where is the beauty teaching flute play?

At that moment, within the ten-mile gallery, Empress was kneeling on the ground, bound in red silk threads, kneeling right in front of Fang Yang.

Her black hair fluttered chaotically, the usually domineering lady now looked enticing, with ripples of charm emanating from her eyes and brows.

She exuded a particular allure, the flavour of being forcefully conquered.

As the Empress of Tang, she had always been aloof, never actively seeking to please another. To serve a demon lord, nearly grovelling, was an immense humiliation for her.

Yet at the same time, a thrilling sensation was stirring deep within her heart.

This thrill was faint, very subtle, barely noticeable without careful attention.

But now, it was growing ceaselessly, as if taking root and sprouting within her, impossible to erase, making her flute playing ever more exquisite, utterly mesmerizing.