webnovel

Villainess Trains Her Assassin

[World: the 19th century] [Theme: Reincarnation and Royal Love] The daughter of the Duke, Adela Virginia, who was born with incredible magical power, tragically died once. Her last memory was of using her magic to destroy the royal family. She was so vengeful that she tamed monsters with her extreme power. Her actions wrecked everything. But, in the end, she discovered she was being exploited by the first prince, whom she had never seen. The prince, who was he? If she helped the prince, why was she killed? Who was the girl who fatally stabbed Adela? In her woozy vision, she couldn't see her face clearly. She could only remember one word the killer had used to express how frequently she hated her. "Adela, I hate you. I wish I could kill you when we first meet". When Adela opened her eyes, it was dawn. She was astounded to learn that God had given her a second chance. Will she be successful in discovering the truth this time? Will she meet the prince this time? Will she be able to find that murderer? ***Story*** *Bind you in hellbound. *Under the sunshine. *My tempting dummy/ Uncle, love me deeper. [Weekly Targets 400 power stones= 2 bonus chapters. 600 power stones= 3 bonus chapters. 800 power stones= 4 bonus chapters. 10 Golden Tickets= 2 bonus chapters. 100 Golden Tickets= 4 bonus chapters.]

Melody_Baby · Histoire
Pas assez d’évaluations
398 Chs

You are such a poor girl

As Camilla's thoughts delved into the labyrinthine landscape of her emotions, an eerie stillness settled within the tent. The shadows seemed to lengthen, casting a veil of obscurity over the corners of her mind. She was in the midst of grappling with her doubts in a tumultuous whirlwind of uncertainty when an unexpected voice sliced through the air.

"You are such a poor girl," the voice echoed, reverberating with an otherworldly resonance that sent shivers down Camilla's spine.

It was a voice coming from inside her—the voice of Anesthesia. The wicked spirit's words seemed to slither around the tent like malevolent tendrils, stirring the stagnant air with their presence. Camilla's grip on the fabric beneath her tightened, her knuckles turning white as her heart raced.