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Transmigrated As The Perverted Young Master

Do not buy privilege chapters for this month! I repeat, do not! I'm taking a break from writing. I'll come back sometime later. But not this month, though. The editing chapter would be released sometime later too. I'm exhausted, sorry for the inconvenience. Death! Such a powerful phenomenon holds the truth about the living. But when you're dead while "masturbating" it is another matter and when you find death isn't the end, it is also another matter. Damien was just your average perverted young man, who just doesn't even have time to tame his little dragon. He dreamt about becoming a small-time villain in the novel called 'Blood & Throne,' where the villain named Damien Von Zadkiel, was just a useless and perverted son of a powerful duke. He got away with pretty much everything; he slept with the most beautiful of beautiful ladies. Hell, he even slept with Queens and other important ladies from the noble households. He enjoyed life until he triggered the 'War of the four Kingdoms,' when he slept with the Winter Queen on her marriage bed. The Winter King who came back after defeating the ice demon found them snuggled under his bed. This triggered the tension between the kingdoms to break out, ultimately resulting in the war. But before he could even watch his own doings, our villain got killed by the so-called protagonist for enslaving his girl. But even his death was worth it as he got to enjoy everything fine in his life. Fine ladies, fine food, money, and everything you could dream of. The office Damien wanted a life like that, where he could just leisurely enjoy everything. Fate had other plans for Damien, as he suddenly died of a heart attack while taming his roaring dragon and finds himself in the body of his very own idol.

Eternal_Ruler_ · 奇幻
分數不夠
266 Chs

The Master of Flames

"What the hell is happening?" Damien's voice cracked with disbelief, his words a desperate plea for clarity in the midst of the unfathomable. The arm he had held moments ago slipped from his grasp, tumbling to the ground. But in the absence of the grotesque relic, a new horror emerged—dark flames that surged forth to claim his empty hands. It was as if some insidious force were slithering toward him, crawling onto his very being like a parasitic presence.

Desperation fueled his movements as he attempted to shake off the encroaching darkness, his efforts in vain against an antagonist he couldn't even begin to comprehend. It was like an otherworldly embrace, an ethereal grip that refused to be dislodged, binding him in a dance of torment.