1331 Book(s) Related to kiss by an angel

When the apocalypse arrived, my girlfriend, driven by vanity, exposed my unlimited resource space and incited starving people to kill me and feed me to the zombies, while she herself stepped on my flesh and blood to become the "savior goddess".
But she didn't know that I mutated amidst the pile of corpses and awakened into the only zombie tyrant.
I corrupted the space, cut off food supplies, led a horde of tens of thousands of zombies to besiege the city, and threw a bounty at the starving mob: "Use her flesh and blood to exchange for a bite to eat."
Watching the once-lofty Mother Teresa torn to pieces, kneeling at my feet weeping and begging for mercy, I laughed. Moral blackmail? Sorry, I'm the Zombie King now.

While I was being kidnapped, tortured, and murdered in the horse stable of our own family farm, my all-powerful chaebol fiancée was helping my green tea younger brother try on wedding attire.
Before dying, with my broken, blood-stained finger, I dialed the last desperate call for help.
On the other end of the phone, her tone was filled with scorn and impatience: "Vincent, can't you even tolerate a little grievance from your younger brother? Let's just cancel the engagement, and I'll replace you with him as the groom."
Later, I truly died.
My soul drifted in mid-air, watching coldly as the whole family thought I was faking death to make a scene. My older sister even kicked over my disfigured body on the haystack in disgust: "Get up right now, stop pretending to be pitiful here!"
Until the flashlight's beam completely illuminated my ghastly, rigid face, and the shattered phone screen, still stuck on the moment she hung up, clutched tightly in my dead hand...
That forever aloof, arrogant female CEO finally went weak in the knees, kneeling in the foul-smelling, blood-soaked filth, and utterly lost her mind.

In the seventh year of being a stay-at-home husband, I discovered the son I cherished as the most precious treasure in my life was actually the illegitimate child of my wife and her male best friend.
To conceal the scandal of her infidelity, my CEO wife, worth millions, joined forces with her male best friend in a grand deception. They single-handedly destroyed my artistic career, transforming me into a free nanny raising their illegitimate child.
Upon learning the truth, I didn't lose my composure.
I calmly presented the divorce papers and the paternity test report proving no biological relation, then turned and walked away without looking back.
Later, that ever-lofty wife, the one who had once publicly doused me with ice water for her male best friend, was utterly consumed by regret and fury.
She kicked the scoundrel to the curb. In front of a crowd, she pressed a switchblade to her own throat, casting aside all dignity to kneel on the ground, crying and begging me to look at her just once more.
I didn't even blink. My voice was as cold as ice. "If you want to die, do it outside. Don't ruin my mood for coffee."

I spent a month pretending to be a coward in a mercenary cannon-fodder camp.

A recruit shattered my nose with a punch and ground his combat boot into my face; the instructor cut off my water during drills in forty-degree heat, waiting for me to drop dead from dehydration. To prevent the military AI surveillance overhead from catching my tactical muscle memory, I forcibly locked down my combat instincts and swallowed blood mixed with dirt.

They thought I was just a sluggish forty-two-year-old drifter, unaware that in the Pentagon's top-secret sealed files, I am a former Joint Special Operations Command "Tier 0" Ghost Operative.

Until that day, when heavily armored mercenaries raided the camp, and an EMP grenade paralyzed the entire surveillance grid.

Staring at the extinguished infrared indicator lights above, I snapped an enemy's neck and picked up a rifle from the ground.

"Alright, restrictions lifted."

He was reborn back to the day his wife Lydia was sacrificed to the demon.

The entire demon race was laughing at me, her useless husband who was about to be thrown into the cursed land, while she, dressed in a pure white robe, rose step by step on my bones and blood, becoming the most beloved saintess of the demons.

She thought I would rot in the ashes, but little did she know that I had swallowed a World Tree seed that had been dormant for ten thousand years in my death.

An enslaved old miner, a blind but gentle apothecary, a desperate mermaid leader... I led eighteen "defective products" chewed up by the abyss, riding the wildly growing tide of life, and forcefully smashed through the demon's royal city!

When the immortal demon king was drained dry by the World Tree and knelt on the ground begging for mercy like a wild dog, my noble wife smiled and raised the sharp obsidian.

"What are demons? This throne belongs only to me."

This is a story of extreme betrayal and violent redemption. When life permeates the demon realm, all the high and mighty evils will turn into dust at the bottom of the trees!

In the apocalyptic wasteland, I started as nothing more than a lowly corpse-devouring bug. But after accidentally swallowing a high-tier crystal core, I was reshaped into a frail human vessel.

Those self-righteous survivors treated me as live bait to draw away the zombie hordes. After bleeding me dry and exploiting me to the absolute limit, they ruthlessly shoved me into a swarming sea of mutated corpses.

They thought they were just sacrificing a piece of trash. Little did they know, they had personally awakened the ultimate apex of cross-species evolution.

The moment I plummeted into the horde, my primal instincts fully awakened. Millions of zombies and subterranean insect swarms bowed to my command. I crushed high-tier monsters with my bare hands and used the sea of undead to steamroll heavily armored legions. With absolute, tyrannical power, I shattered the old order of the wasteland, trampling the once high-and-mighty elites into the mud.

"I'm not here to save humanity. I am merely building a suitably sized terrarium."

As countless infected formed living walls, humanity fell from their throne as the masters of Earth, reduced to nothing more than rare livestock in my captivity.

A high-dimensional ecological experiment has officially begun.

During the shipwreck, my fiancée, to save my "white moonlight" (my unrequited love), forcibly pried open my bleeding fingers and snatched my last life jacket.
"He can't swim, you hold on a little longer."

At that moment, I gave up completely and let myself sink into the cold, deep sea.

Later, I returned from the ashes and became an unapproachable tycoon.

She went bankrupt and became a beggar, but amidst the heavy snow, she watched my wedding of the century, knelt on the street, and breathed her last in remorse.

Belated affection is ultimately worth less than grass.

When the red moon descends, humans become living food.

In this apocalyptic survival battle with no way out, I was trapped on a fallen highway with 300 rifle bullets and the only "living antidote" for all mankind.

Behind them stretched an endless horde of mutated zombies, their hearing ten times sharper; ahead lay a deathly blockade, poised to unleash a second wave of devastating meteors at any moment. The countdown had begun, and teammates fell one after another into pools of blood, desperately providing cover.

Retreat? There's a life-saving vaccine in the trunk; advance? Ahead lies a hopeless dead end with a 100% mortality rate.

I silently chambered the round. Since fate intends for humanity to become extinct, then I'll use firepower to carve a bloody path through them!

Missing for five years, I dragged my slightly crippled left leg back to the slums.

Only to see my once-gentle wife wearing a cheap, fraying apron, being mercilessly humiliated in front of a greasy sink.
My five-year-old son was cowering beside a pile of garbage, clutching a broken toy, trembling in fear.

A high-and-mighty tycoon slapped a three-million-dollar IOU across my face. A thug kicked a plate of rancid, rotting meat scraps to my feet, sneering, "Lick it clean, and I'll waive ten thousand in interest."

Desperate to protect me, my wife pushed me away, only to be brutally kicked into the muddy water by a bodyguard, revealing a back covered in a suffocating, horrific lattice of burn marks and whip scars.

Everyone thought I was just a crippled piece of trash—a useless man who couldn't even protect his own wife and child.
That was, until I reached into my coat and pulled out a black satellite phone that had gathered dust for five years.

"Disable Ghost Silence Protocol. Initiate full takeover."

That night, eight heavy attack helicopters tore through the clouds, blotting out the sky.
Hundreds of fully armed, elite special operatives descended from above. Dropping to one knee in the freezing mud, they roared in unison: "Welcome back, Young Master!"

The entire city’s municipal assets, the police force, the underworld—both the light and the dark—could be reduced to ashes with a single thought from me.

I took off my tattered jacket and draped it gently over my wife's trembling shoulders. Then, I crushed the tycoon's mechanical prosthetic limb with my bare hands. My voice was calm, yet it sent a chilling shockwave through everyone present:

"Three million? I just did the math on the scars you owe my wife..."
"Now, you owe me thirty billion."

In my past life, they drained my blood, kicked me off the rooftop, and said, "Waste doesn't deserve to live."

Reborn into the apocalypse, I opened my palm, and seven beams of primal energy pierced the sky. The woman who cried out "the best in the world" to me just ten minutes ago couldn't even produce a spark now. The brother who wore the boots I sewed and called me trash was being chased and bitten by mutants like a stray dog, his leg broken.

They came to me with memories of their past lives, demanding, "Why did you steal our special abilities?"

In front of thousands of people, I unleashed a net of lightning, scorching those who came to block my way. They knelt in the mud, their heads bleeding from kowtowing; Elena covered her mouth, which had been slapped clean, and David trembled on his single leg, leaning on a rusty steel pipe—yet they couldn't even climb over the iron thorns surrounding my tower.

Later, they rotted into a pile of mud in the arena and among the hordes of corpses, and I didn't even look back.

Until a horde of millions of zombies besieged the city, I went out alone with my sword and shattered the zombie king with a single strike.

The entire ruins knelt down.

They thought I had stolen the light.
No. I was just a fire that burned away what should have been garbage.

Intro: Six hours before the apocalypse, I was reborn. A gray panel now floated before my eyes, showing my physical stats. In the scant time left, I had to use limited supplies to complete the system's tasks, grind levels like mad, gather scattered resources, and build my own doomsday fortress. This time around, I would exact ultimate revenge on all those who had betrayed me.

A torrential downpour of strong acid flooded the city, and mutated sea monsters slaughtered buildings. When Chloe, along with burly men from the rugby team, wielding fire axes, frantically smashed down the door, attempting to burn me alive and steal my bottled water, I had already welded the security door firmly into the load-bearing wall.
Faced with the pried-open door, I didn't waste any words and directly used a 20,000-volt electric spear to pierce the strong man's thigh! Then, I coldly pushed the blood-soaked floor outside.
The pungent smell of blood instantly attracted the skeletal behemoths from the water, turning the corridor into a horrific slaughterhouse. I listened coldly to their desperate screams in front of the monitor.
In this desolate wasteland, you think you can survive by stepping on me? Then feed the monsters with your flesh and blood !

Intro: I spent three years as a logistics mage in the Darkmoon Pack, chasing the wolf clan's female war goddess for a full year. I repaired her armor, mixed her potions, and secretly tucked protective charms inside her gear. She never once looked me in the eye. At the bonfire banquet, after enduring humiliation, I took the initiative to sever ties and walked away. Without my help, she lost everything. When I was reborn and returned, facing the one and only chance to win me back, she finally chose to make the first move.

At a dinner party in a Long Island mansion, my wife, desperate to latch onto a newly minted venture-capital darling, let our five-year-old son smash the gift I’d brought in front of everyone—then waved the keys to a luxury car and made him call another man “Daddy.” With icy arrogance, she slapped a divorce agreement on the table, convinced that a bottom-tier nobody like me would be unable to even put food on the table once I was gone. I didn’t argue. I left only four words—“As you wish”—and walked out in silence.

What she didn’t know was that the business empire she was so proud of stood behind a moat I had built with my own hands, from the shadows. What she knew even less was that the Wall Street titan she tried to cling to in her moment of desperation… was the ex-husband she had always tried to avoid.

When the mirage finally collapsed—when debts buried her and she was dragged down into the mud—she went mad searching for me. In the midst of a blizzard, my ex-wife, dressed in rags, knelt in Times Square, sobbing and begging me to come home. I only raised the window of my Maybach, calm and expressionless, and drove off without looking back—toward a shore she would never reach. Love that comes too late is worth nothing.

"Your credit code has been wiped to zero. You are worse than a cyber-dog now."

I fought bloody battles in the Abyss for the Federation for three years, only for my wife to be framed by my adjutant, her left arm shattered, and kicked into a wasteland scavenger town like a dead dog.

Three years later, I returned from the bloodbath. What awaited me was not a medal of honor, but the megacorp's indiscriminate bombing order aimed at my wife.

High up in Cloud City, the megacorp executives raised their wine glasses and sneered: "Burn it all to ashes, along with that crippled woman!"

They seemed to have forgotten that I am the Grand Marshal of the Federation, and an absolute war maniac.

Since the law means nothing, I will use the purest firepower to drag their massive fleet and the entire megacorp straight down to hell!

For the past ten years, I've been the worst-ranked cleaner in the Hero Association .
The S-class war god regarded me as an ant, wantonly trampling on my dignity on this floor.
Until that day, the SSS-level villain broke out of prison, massacred the headquarters, and the high and mighty gods knelt in pools of blood like dead dogs, howling in despair.
I silently picked up the mop and walked up to the arrogant villain: "You've dirtied my floor, please cooperate with the cleaning."
The next second, the concept vanished, reduced to ashes! The entire audience was shocked: "I told you to mop the floor, and you wiped the villain away?!"

Intro: When she found the wolf cub, she touched him and saw a vision—the grown version of him standing atop a mountain of corpses, ten thousand wolves prostrate at his feet. She named him Little King. Sixteen years. She taught him to fight, to control his transformation, to ride atop pain. The first full sentence he ever learned was "Whoever hurts you, I'll kill." On a blizzard night, he curled up at her door and kept watch through the whole night, just to say, "I was afraid you'd be cold." She almost said, "Don't leave me." But what came out in the end was something else.

At the red carpet event, Maddie, my partner of three years, in an attempt to curry favor with a popular male star, publicly humiliated me, trampling on my foot and yelling, "Ethan, you're just a backstage errand boy

. Don't interfere with Ryan's shots. Go back to carrying materials." The whole room burst into laughter; everyone thought I was a lowly sycophant forced to swallow my humiliation.

But I didn't get angry. I calmly took out my tablet, cut off all her studio's basic permissions with a single click, and immediately sent the irrefutable evidence of her breach of contract to the brand's legal department.

Three minutes later, she was completely stripped of her control and faced a multi-million dollar claim for breach of contract.

At first, she thought I was just acting out of spite, that a little charity would win me back. It wasn't until the day her assets were forcibly liquidated and she was completely blacklisted from the industry that she desperately realized: for the past three years, she had only been able to sit at the table because of my charity.

Later, shamelessly, she crawled through garbage cans, barefoot, to the airport, knelt before my bulletproof Maybach, and begged me to come back.

As for me, I simply walked onto the private jet surrounded by executives from top European conglomerates.

To save my wife’s family, I buried my name, wore myself down, and let a few strands of my hair turn gray while caring for her on the edge of death.

Three years later, she slipped into custom Chanel and slapped a divorce agreement down in front of me.

With her arm wrapped around a so-called old-money heir from Wall Street, she mocked me as a worthless nobody who couldn’t even afford a luxury handbag, a bottom-feeder who was never fit to stand beside her.

I signed my name without a word and watched her leave in triumph.

What she didn’t know was that the man preaching investments was nothing more than a Ponzi fraudster facing multiple charges.

And when the conference room door closed, Manhattan’s most feared ice-cold attorney bowed to me at a perfect ninety degrees and welcomed me to unlock the seventy-billion-dollar trust fund and take back control of the entire conglomerate.

A few months later, inside a women’s maximum-security prison in Brooklyn, she was dressed in a filthy, tattered prison uniform, sprawled across a floor slick with dirty water, sobbing as she was beaten and begging for my forgiveness.

I simply lifted my whiskey and calmly switched off the surveillance feed.

The acrid smell of the bullet piercing my skull hadn't even dissipated when I came back to life.

I was reborn back to the third week of the apocalypse. At this time, the tyrant of the fifth checkpoint was stripping me of my right to pass and kicking me into a horde of thousands of zombies.

In my past life, I also died here. But until the moment of my death, these fools didn't know that—within the skulls of those terrifying zombies lay divine crystal cores capable of "freezing time"!

Having been given a second chance at life, I did not run away.

I calmly snapped the neck of the first monster and pried the glowing key out of the rotten flesh.

The instant I forcibly froze the torrential, highly corrosive acid rain in mid-air, I knew that this apocalyptic hunting game... had shifted in power dynamics.

To surprise her I ended my business trip early only to catch my fiancee entangled with my best friend of ten years in our marital bed

The next day at an elite gala she publicly announced the engagement was over then drove me out into the freezing downpour like a drowned dog mocking me in front of everyone as a worthless castoff

She did not know that the Wall Street financial predator who had hidden his edge for love had finally had his shackles cut off by their own hands

Back in New York I struck back by shorting the Roland family empire watching coldly as that sanctimonious friend devoured her family fortune piece by piece then tossed her into a dungeon on a remote island overseas to torment her at will

Months later when she crawled out of a dark cell on the verge of a breakdown clutching my dress shoe in the stinking mud and sobbing as she begged humbly that she would do anything if only she could stay by my side

I merely wiped the mud she had smeared on my trousers and let a filthy wet wipe drift onto her face

Some trash once you throw it out you never pick it up again

In my past life, I was betrayed by my fiancée and my tycoon boss, and thrown alive into a mutated swarm to be torn apart.

When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn fifteen days before the multidimensional catastrophe! Facing my vain ex-boyfriend who was still threatening to break off our engagement and buy me luxury bags, I sneered and decisively blocked him, instantly awakening a "Beast-Level Infrastructure System."

Hoarding supplies in the apocalypse? Too narrow-minded! I directly infiltrated the polar regions with my geeky best friends, tampered with central permissions, and seized my tycoon boss's invincible fortress—a multi-billion dollar investment with a nuclear reactor!

When the catastrophe erupted and gravity collapsed, my boss and ex-girlfriend, dragging their mangled bodies, knelt outside the ten-meter-thick tungsten steel door, frantically kowtowing, begging to be brought in as dogs. I, however, holding a Romanée-Conti, coldly pressed the gravity strangulation button.

The Abyss Era, the Old Gods are all dead. On this wasteland, only I sit high on my icy throne, establishing absolute laws.

The wife in the cryogenic chamber had only three minutes left.

I had an iron hook pierce my collarbone, and my knees shattered while kneeling at a lavish banquet. Wine glasses smashed at my feet, flashbulbs were pointed at my face, and everyone was laughing—the former war god of the North, now less than a dog.

Victor stomped on the remote control and smashed it.

When the red light of the three-minute countdown popped up, I raised my head. The sealing nails on my shoulders were blasted away by the qi, and what surged from the dark golden depths of my eyes made the entire building tremble.

He crushed over a hundred mercenaries with a single punch.

He tore open the alloy gate with his bare hands.

One hundred thousand black-armored demons knelt down from the darkness, and their commander cut off his own arm to plead guilty.

I pressed the full-frequency communication button, draped in a blood-patterned cloak: "Seven days. Make the three great empires hand over the restorative herbs. If even one herb is missing—wipe out the entire nation."

He knelt before his wife, he fought his way through the world for her. The moment she awoke was the beginning of this world paying its debt.

The day my wife, Hollywood’s newly crowned Best Actress, landed an S-tier deal, she arrogantly tossed a separation agreement in my face.

“I’m moving into Beverly Hills. A salaried office worker like you will only drag down my status. If you can’t come up with a ten-million-dollar mansion, then get out of my life.”

She thought she had latched onto a media tycoon, and eagerly signed the “fake divorce loan” agreement I had tailored just for her.

What she didn’t know was that I wasn’t just the pathetic husband she thought I was. I was also a quantitative strategist from Wall Street, a man who could turn the markets upside down.

That ten million dollars became the seed capital I used to short the tycoon backing her.

When she was ruined at her movie premiere, burdened with crushing debt, and crawled barefoot like a stray dog up to the hillside mansion, begging hysterically for me to remarry her, I was already toasting a successful acquisition with my Wall Street partner.

Then I watched coldly as the security guards threw her into the Los Angeles night like a piece of rotten industrial waste.

In my previous life, the Vance Corporation stuffed me into an iron barrel and sank me alive to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.

The agonizing pain of suffocation still lingered in my bones, yet I suddenly jolted awake in my own bedroom.

The digital clock on the nightstand flashed red: 11:55 PM.

Exactly five minutes remained before the Corporation's elite cleaners would break down the door to silence me.

What is five minutes enough for?

Enough to hide my feverish younger brother in the closet and kill any thought my parents had of calling the police;

Enough to use waste motor oil, broken glass, and a modified industrial nail gun to transform this apartment into a meat grinder tailor-made for assassins.

When the lock clicked softly from a master key and a red laser sight pierced the darkened living room... these battle-hardened professional cleaners thought tonight would be an easy hunt.

But little did they know, the one who had crawled back from the abyssal hell was a grim reaper who had mastered every art of slaughter.

Tonight is just collecting the interest. Before dawn breaks, I will turn the entire Vance Corporation to ashes.

"You good-for-nothing should get out and save your food rations. I'll use your truckload of supplies for you!"

The man-eating scarlet spores swept through the town. My good brother locked the security door tightly and locked me in the corridor filled with blood mist.

He stared intently at me through the peephole, waiting to see the horrific sight of my internal organs being drained by the fungus.

But a second before I was devoured by the spores, I hid in my personal space and with a single thought drained the last drop of water and every grain of rice from the room.

Three days later, in this impregnable "vacuum tomb".

When he was so thirsty that he swallowed blood, and knelt on the ground desperately pounding on the door.

I kicked the door open, tied him up with nylon rope, and hung him upside down in the blood-red storm outside the window.

To get the only targeted drug for my sister's sudden rare disease flare-up, I knelt before the city's elites in a grease-stained janitor's uniform and barked like a dog. My wife in name only glared at me with absolute disgust, cursing that I was worse than a dog. The chaebol heir even crushed the medicine bottle under his shoe, forcing me into a "no fighting back" death match in the underground black market.

Enduring the agony of broken bones, I survived ten brutal rounds, only to be handed swapped poison and witness a monstrous fire engulf the clinic.

Watching my sister's life-support indicators gradually fade in the sea of flames, and looking at the female doctor whose legs were shattered while trying to protect her, I shed no tears.

I calmly pulled a glass shard from my ribs and took out the black satellite communicator I had kept hidden and sealed away for three years.

"Command received, Supreme Commander."

Tonight, I will make the chaebols of this city completely vanish from the face of the earth.

In the apocalyptic freeze, temperatures plummeted to seventy below zero. The earth was encased in ice, and ice beasts roamed everywhere.

I risked my life to scavenge for food, covered in wounds, enduring cold and hunger, leaving all our meager supplies for my parents and brother.

I thought blood was thicker than water, that all the suffering and hardship was worth it.

But I never imagined that when our resources ran out, the family I'd protected with my life would reveal their true beastly nature. They ambushed and knocked me unconscious, tied me to an ice pillar, planning to use me as food rations—to eat me alive.

At the moment of near death, the ice jade my grandfather left me suddenly shattered. I awakened top-tier ice abilities, commanding frost and snow, controlling the extreme cold.

My kindness had been frozen to death by the bitter cold. Family meant nothing.

Those who betrayed me, deceived me, and tried to eat me—I wouldn't spare a single one.

With only three days left until the apocalyptic fungal outbreak, my ordinarily strict father unexpectedly took out a million-dollar loan from a loan shark, transferred it to my account, and issued an absolute order: "Buy supplies, build a fortress, and even if you die, do not open that door!"

Staring at the seven-figure balance, I grabbed a liquor bottle, shattered the nose of the school bully who used to torment me, and instantly kicked off a frantic hoarding spree. I bought out a penthouse on the 50th floor, welded on a bank-vault-grade blast door, and stockpiled an endless supply of Tomahawk steaks and a massive arsenal of weapons.

When the disaster finally struck, the once-arrogant rich kids downstairs were reduced to bloody fodder for the monsters. The starving school bully knelt outside my door, tearing into his own companions just for a leftover bone. Meanwhile, separated by bulletproof glass, I sipped an ice-cold cola and coldly enjoyed the show.

Just as a massive horde of the infected surrounded the building, my parents unexpectedly arrived in a Unimog heavy armored vehicle armed to the teeth, crushing through the sea of corpses in a dominant rescue. With our family reunited and packing heavy firepower, we violently tore open our own path of rampage across this scorched wasteland!

In an incredibly realistic precognitive dream, my vampire stepparents and nominal brother cruelly pushed me off the second floor to feed the zombies for half a moldy loaf of bread.

I opened my eyes to find less than 72 hours until the full-blown apocalypse!

To hell with hypocritical family ties! In this life, I decisively spent money to buy a shelter, unexpectedly awakening my spatial abilities! With a thought, I remotely emptied the largest warehouse supermarket in the entire state, and even used tens of tons of heavy steel plates to build an indestructible doomsday fortress!

When the zombie horde descended, order collapsed. I sat in my absolutely safe fortress, eating a tomahawk steak, watching the brutal family of three on the monitor, driven mad by hunger, even killing each other and cannibalizing flesh for half a biscuit.

They knelt in the blood-soaked floor, desperately crying and begging me to open the door and give them alms.

My fingertips danced with violent lightning power as I coldly hung up the phone: "The door is welded shut. You can enjoy hell outside!"

The extreme cold apocalypse descended, with global temperatures plummeting to minus 70 degrees Celsius. Cities were reduced to frozen wastelands overrun by frozen corpses.

On the eve of the crisis, I awakened the Berserk Zombie Horde System. Facing exploitation from a ruthless agency and betrayal by my gold-digging girlfriend, I directly used a system backdoor to hack into the agency's accounts, siphoning a massive 7 million dollars!

I purchased heavy-duty generators, hoarded hundreds of tons of supplies, and transformed an abandoned mine into an underground steel fortress with fully automated climate control.

The apocalypse arrived exactly on schedule, plunging the entire city into a total blackout. While my enemies turned purple from the cold, kneeling outside my blast doors and begging for mercy, I sat in my 25-degree Celsius climate-controlled room, sipping whiskey. With a casual flick of a switch, I activated the traps, sending them out to feed the monsters in the blizzard.

In this white wasteland, I am the only rule!

Seven years ago, betrayed by my closest friend and my fiancée, I was thrown into the lightless Black Sea Death Prison and tortured mercilessly.

Seven years later, I returned through a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, only to find my crippled little sister being trampled in the mud by my former "brother," forcing her to sign a humiliating organ extraction contract.

"A worthless ghost who just crawled out of death row—what makes you think you can fight a billionaire tycoon like me?"

At a grand banquet at the Peninsula Hotel, the treacherous couple threw a bloody dog bone at my feet. They mobilized hundreds of heavily armed SWAT officers to surround me, demanding I kneel, kowtow, and call them master.

They thought their wealth and power made them untouchable on the West Coast, assuming I was still the same spineless weakling from years ago.

That was until an EMP tore through the night sky. Three military stealth fighter jets hovered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and hundreds of laser sights from the nation's most classified special forces locked dead center on the foreheads of every elite in the room.

Under the horrified gazes of the city's high society, a four-star general crashed through the window and gave me the highest military salute:

"Tier Zero Task Force assembled! Supreme Commander, please give the order to purge!"

At that moment, the high-and-mighty tycoons finally remembered the terror of being dominated by the abyss.

My fiancée, with whom I've been in a relationship for three years, has threatened to break off our engagement for the hundredth time, forcing me to donate a kidney to her adopted brother, who's faking illness and acting like a hypocrite.

My biological parents even threatened to sever ties with me: "You have a healthy body. Ian has nothing but us. You can't even bear to part with a kidney. You're so selfish and cold-blooded!"

They don't know that my hands, which I used to play the piano, had already been crushed by gangsters while cleaning up their mess; they also don't know that at this moment, I have a critical illness notice for late-stage bone cancer in my pocket.

Seeing the undisguised disgust and indifference in my fiancée's eyes, I swallowed the taste of blood in my throat and calmly signed the consent form for the live organ removal.

"Okay, I'll donate. I'll give you back my life along with it."

Later, I died like a dog on the rusty operating table of a shady clinic, my bones and marrow completely drained.

But when I was truly reduced to dust and left without even a complete corpse... the truth about my vicious foster brother faking illness was exposed.

The aloof and arrogant female CEO who once treated me like trash went completely mad overnight.

She knelt desperately before my nameless grave, plunged a sharp knife into her abdomen, and collapsed in a pool of blood, pleading for me to see her one more time.

"If you hadn't played hero that day, Dayna," my father snarled, "we wouldn't be in this mess. Saving some random old woman and ruining your eyes! Do you have any idea what your medical bills cost us? Now a guy wants to marry you. Marry him quick and stop bothering us!"

I was just a college freshman when I sacrificed my sight to save an elderly lady from an ancident. But now, my own family called me a blind burden and tried to marry me away. Homeless and desperate, I accepted a proposal from a man I'd never seen, who claimed the woman I saved was his grandmother: marry him so he could take care of me.

I always think I've married some poor, ugly guy. But I have no idea my mysterious husband is actually Bradley Booth—a gorgeous billionaire heir and one of the most powerful men in the city!

"We literally just met. Don’t you think a flash marriage is moving a little fast?" said Michael, a blind date arranged by my mother.
"People get married quick all the time now," I shot back. "We could get the paperwork done, take time to actually get to know each other. If it works out, great. If not, we divorce."
He smiled. "Alright. Then let’s try it."

Sarah Martinez works as a restaurant server. Haunted by fragmented memories of a past she can’t fully recall, she’s desperate to escape her mother’s constant worry about her future. When she meets Michael Johnson, a man who seems to be the perfect solution to her problems, she impulsively proposes marriage.
However, Michael is not who he appears to be. He’s a man of power and wealth. When Sarah mistakes him for her mother’s arranged blind date, he decides to play along, intrigued by her sincerity and the possibility of a marriage free from the gold-diggers he’s used to.
Their marriage starts as a practical arrangement, but as they navigate their new life together, feelings begin to blur the lines of their agreement.

Will Sarah discover Michael’s true identity? Can Michael trust Sarah’s intentions, or is she just another woman after his wealth? And what will happen when Sarah’s ex, a Hollywood star, tries to win her back?

"Strip and position yourself in doggy style on that dresser," he thundered dangerously, his glare fixed on the innocent girl before him. She blinked, clearly confused, unable to grasp the meaning of his command.
"I... I don't understand," she stammered, fear seeping into her trembling voice as she tried to appear brave, but her body betrayed her.
"I won't repeat myself!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the room, causing silent tears to spill down her cheeks.
"I don't know what strip or doggy style means..." she sobbed, her confusion evident, while his cold stare remained unyielding.


He's Alpha Vladimir Albert Darkclaw within his pack, but to the underworld Mafia, he is known as Lord Marino Jenkins. At 26 years old, he's a living Lucifer- no one crosses him and survives the next second. He buys and discards slaves like toys, and he's the only Alpha who taught his wolf, Annihilator, to feed on humans. As the Alpha of the Feral Fury Pack, his reign is feared, with pack members praying for it to end- but it has only just begun. Trained by the Devil himself, what else could you expect?
April Lopez, an innocent girl, sold to the Devil for money, has endured every kind of torment from the pack members... until the Devil returned. An innocent act of hers made her became his personal possession, his personal slave. His to torture...His to spoil and corrupt ...His to fuck...His to kill...
How will the innocent girl survive in a world of darkness and corruption? As his heart begins to stir with unfamiliar emotions for the daughter of the man who destroyed his family on that bloody night, will his quest for revenge falter?

So it's true. I am their mate! I am the one they have been waiting for all this time. How can that be? Can I really be so lucky?

"Don't bother celebrating. We do not intend to make a detestable human servant our queen." Angel Fenris states, his voice laced with disgust just like the last time we met.

His rude words hurt me more now than they did yesterday. The full moon must have heightened my emotions.

"Surely you did not think that you're befitting in any way to sit by our side. A beautiful, virtuous princess is the least we were expecting our future queen to be. You're not fit to be her shadow let alone take her place." Angel Garren angrily expresses. The ache in my heart surge.


For the mighty angel kings of Lunacrest, only the most virtuous of women will do.

After growing tired of waiting for a virtuous mate of pure heart, the triplet angel kings have decided to device a contest to find the most virtuous of all royal women to be crowned their queen.

According to the rules of the contest, each of the beautiful princesses is to be hosted in the palace of Lunacrest for a duration of five days while her feminine virtues and loyalty to the angel kings gets tested.

But what will happen when the angel kings discover that their fated mate is a lowly human servant with no royal blood?

Keira is surprisingly the wisest and the kindest of all women. No woman of royal blood can match her virtues.
But will the angel kings realise her value or will they be fooled by the faked grace and elegance of her beautiful mistress?

“Dad please don't do this”She begged in tears.
“Claire darling just be a good girl for daddy”
“Dad please”She tried fighting him off her but she received a resounding slap.
“Daddy!”She cried as he ripped off all her clothes…
Claire was once happy again been in a complete family. But her happiness only last awhile and her whole world crumbled when her mom died.
What happens when she gets turned into a sex slave overnight?
Her pride and dignity was ripped off her by her rapist of a step father. And when he so called step brother found out about the abuse, he too wanted a taste of her honey pot.
She is now broken, her life is like a mirage full of ups and downs. Who would have thought that the people she called family turned out to be demons? Her worst nightmare.
*Who will save her from the clutches of her evil step father and brother?
*What happens when she gets sold into slavery by her step father?
*And what happens when she gets caught up in a burning romance with her master???

"ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ ʀᴀᴜʟ" ɪ ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ʟᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ.

Angel's life has been quite a roller coaster ride since she graduated with an exceptional degree from one of the finest schools in her hometown.

Securing employment proved to be challenging, and her responsibilities as the primary provider for her small family added to her burdens. She had to support her brother's education as well as cover expenses for her mother's medical condition.

She resorts to becoming a stripper out of desperation, ensuring her religious mother remains unaware of her shameful occupation.

Her life takes a surprising twist when she is presented with a great chance to become an actress. The main male character, Raul D'Amano, is incredibly attractive and despite being married, the protagonist cannot help but feel drawn to him.

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 '𝐬𝐢𝐧' 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐃'𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞.

"You are so rude! Are you really flirting in the office? Are you going to fool me again?" I screamed.
"You." I faced my sister again. "I'm your sister, I am not? Why did you do that to my husband? How did you do this, SISTER?" I stress the word 'sister'.
"My sister! You should be my sympathizer in these times. But what did you do? But where are you? You hurt me. And you're still hurting me, you animal." And I tweaked her again, I even pushed her. She didn't fight back.
Nate tried to stop me but once he tried to stop me, I punched him hard and slapped him.
"Don't try to stop me, Nate, because if I did nothing at first but run and cry now I won't do something that will make me look miserable!" I exclaimed angrily.
And my sister was tweaked again.
"Please Elle it's okay." She was crying. I slapped her so hard that she leaned over. It cries.
"That's enough? Are you kidding me?"I said sarcastically, I even faked a laugh.
"I would be the one to tell you that. I would be the one to tell you THAT'S RIGHT BECAUSE I CAN'T. IT'S RIGHT BECAUSE I'M SICK. IT'S RIGHT BECAUSE I'M BROKEN. HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO FOOL ME? ACCEPT YOU. YOU ARE ANIMALS!" I still scream. And I slapped her again and then pushed, causing her bag to fall and its contents scattered.
"Kelly," Nate shouted and helped Kelly to her feet.
Attention turned to a small rectangular object on the floor. My knees went soft while looking at it. I approached it and looked closely, it had two lines, which means 'positive'.
My lips are trembling, but I managed to ask anyway.
"D-Don't tell me........
......Y-You're......
.....p-pregnant.......?
.....w-with my h-h-husb-band?"

I threw myself at Elian Caldwell on purpose. Falling for him was the accident..

People think they know exactly what kind of girl I am.

The one screaming in the front row with glitter on her cheeks, his name on her sign, and enough shameless flirting to make an entire hockey team cringe. The puck bunny willing to embarrass herself for a chance at the campus's most untouchable man.

If only they knew.

Behind every smile is another lie. Behind every date, every party, every stolen glance is a mission I was never supposed to survive. I came to infiltrate Alpha Sigma, expose the monsters hiding behind expensive suits and championship trophies, and walk away before anyone discovered who I really was.

Then I met Elian Caldwell.

The silent boy everyone feared.

The man who looked at me like he could see through every mask I'd ever worn.

He was never supposed to become my weakness.

But secrets have a way of demanding blood, and when the truth finally comes for us, I'll have to decide whether to protect the agency that raised me... or the man who taught me what home actually feels like.

The first lie I told was that I wanted his attention.

The biggest one was pretending I didn't want his heart.

When star hockey player Jack Reynolds tosses divorce papers at his wife Emma, he believes he's trading up for a more glamorous model who "understands his lifestyle." What he doesn't know: the quiet, supportive woman he's discarding is the secret heir to an $18 billion fortune – and the granddaughter of the man who owns his hockey team.For eight years, Emma Mitchell hid her true identity, supporting Jack's career while secretly learning the business from the ground up. Now, with her grandfather's health failing and the Boston Blades facing financial crisis, Emma is poised to step into her rightful role as majority owner.*Some men have to lose everything to realize what they had. Some women have to lose a husband to find themselves. In this game, the most dangerous plays happen off the ice.

Five years ago, the Silverfang Pack watched their future king, Alpha Kael Thorncrest, publicly reject the lowest omega, Lyra Moonveil in the kingdom then mark her in a moonlit frenzy no one was supposed to remember.

Devastated and humiliated, Lyra fled with the Alpha’s twins still hidden inside her, and birthed them under a Blood Moon that cracked open an ancient prophecy: one child will crown the kingdom, the other will burn it to ash.

Now she returns to the kingdom as “Mist,” the veiled healer whose touch can knit bone and soul alike. Alpha Kael Thorncrest does not recognize the woman whose scent still haunts his broken wolf. But when one of her children steps into the palace and the bond flares like wildfire, every lie Kael built his throne on begins to collapse.

Jessica Winters is more than broken and beautiful after being betrayed by her fiancee and bestie, in anger she runs away and lodges in a hotel but forgot her phone and money. Fortunately, she was saved by the C E O of the hotel Davis Miller.

Davis Miller was a good looking, sexy young man with a Son Robin.

What happens when Jessica goes to look for a job and is offered a huge deal by a billionaire?

What happens when Jessica starts acting as Robin's real mother while his biological mother is still alive?

What happens when Robin's real mother comes back to claim her son?

Who will Robin choose?

A mother who abandoned her child because of money or a lady who chooses to act his mom in other to make him happy?

What will Davis do? Will he side his son's decision or go after the person he truly loves ?

She was the voice the world couldn’t stop listening to—until it was silenced.

Alice Rodriguez had it all: a voice that turned hearts inside out, a boyfriend adored by the fashion elite, and a future drenched in spotlight.

But when the police stormed her concert and arrested her for a crime she didn’t commit, everything shattered.

Framed.

Forgotten.

Replaced.

Two years later, she walks free with nothing but scars and silence.

Her name is poison. Her fans, now enemies, and the man she once loved? Vanished—leaving behind betrayal and a child with his childhood best friend.

But revenge gives her purpose.

Infiltrating the notorious DeVescori mafia—known only as La Casa di Sangue** (“The House of Blood) She trades her mic for a blade.

Alice becomes entangled in a world of blood, power, and lust.

She’s hired as a pianist for Silas DeVescori, the fragile, mentally unstable heir… but it’s Tiberio, his ruthless brother and underground music producer, who marks her as his next obsession.

He offers her a deal: become his assassin, reclaim her career, and take down the man who ruined her.

The only catch? Her soul might not survive.

Torn between two dangerous brothers and caught in a deadly game of love, power, and vengeance, Alice must choose:

Will she become the instrument in Tiberio’s ruthless symphony…

Or will she compose a final note that silences them all?

“Soaking wet for the guy you were about to write up ten minutes ago. The Student Body President is a hypocritical little slut, isn’t she?”


To Whitlock University, I am Tegan Vale: the pristine Senator’s daughter, the untouchable Student Body President, and the blueprint for icy perfection.
To Hayes Ashford, I am nothing but a masterpiece of sin.
He is the university’s brutal hockey captain. A merciless legacy who rules the campus from the shadows. We were supposed to loathe each other. But one reckless, hate-fueled night blurred the lines, leaving me with a secret that could burn my father’s political empire to the ground.

I am pregnant with the enemy's baby.

I refused to be the girl who traps him. I was ready to take my secret to the grave. But when a ruthless anonymous whistleblower threatens to destroy the hockey team, I am forced to strike a deal with the devil in a jersey.
Hayes agrees to protect my reputation and save the team. But his price is sadistic: For every favor I need, I owe him a night in his bed.
Now, the high-and-mighty Tegan Vale has become the Captain’s personal puck bunny. Bound by a dark obsession, trapped in his orbit, I’m falling for the one man who holds my soul—and my secret—in his calloused hands.
But in a world of vicious elites, the only thing more dangerous than the truth... is the man who owns it.

"Dad please don't do this," She begged in tears.
"Claire darling just be a good girl for Daddy,"
"Dad please," She tried fighting him off her but she received a resounding slap.
"Daddy!" She cried as he ripped off all her clothes…


Claire's parents separated when she was a child. Ellie, her mom, took custody of her, and she remarried to a man she loved.
Claire found happiness once again in a complete family. However, her joy was short lived, and her world crumbled when her mom passed away. What's worse, her biological father refused to fulfill any responsibility.
Once again, she was shattered, but then her stepfather and brother took her in as their own. She thought she could be happy but what happened when she became a sex slave overnight?
Her pride and dignity were ripped off her by her stepfather. And when her so called stepbrother found out about the abuse, he also wanted a taste of her honey pot.
Who would have thought that the people she called family turned out to be demons? Her worst nightmare.
*Who will save her from the clutches of her evil stepfather and brother?
*What happens when she gets sold into slavery by her stepfather?
*And what happens when she gets caught up in a burning romance with her master?

"Do you know I'm not your fated mate?" I ask him.
"I know."
"Do I have a choice?"
"I wish you do."
So there is not. "Fine," I tell him. "I'll accept you as my mate."

Patricia has spent her life far from the political machinations of werewolf high society. When her half-sister Gloria rejects her fated mate—Alpha Lycan Julius—and vanishes, Patricia is summoned to take her place. For Patricia, this alliance is about saving her family from the Lycan family's revenge. But when Julius confesses he's struggling with uncontrollable heat episodes, she offers him a practical solution: scheduled intimacy, carefully managed and emotionally neutral.
Yet the lines blur with each passing night. Meanwhile, her fated mate has walked back into her life, and her wolf is screaming for a bond Patricia can't accept without destroying everything she's built.

Can Patricia resist the pull of her true mate? Or will the man who's been patiently earning her trust prove that some bonds are stronger than fate itself?

In the depths of the torture room, a soul screamed in agony, his body writhing in pain as the devil, Scarlet, exacted her revenge. Her eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, her beauty twisted by the darkness that consumed her.

"Tell me more about them," she hissed, her voice like a serpent's whisper, as she pierced his thigh with a red-hot rod. The air was heavy with the stench of burning flesh and the sound of his cries echoed through the caverns of hell.

"I don't know anything!" he pleaded, his eyes wide with terror, as he struggled against the heavy chains binding his hands together.

Scarlet's laughter was like a cold breeze, sending shivers down the spine. "I became a devil because of all of you," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Now, I will use your blood to paint the city of Italy red."

With a swift motion, she raised her sword and severed his left leg, the sound of his screams echoing through the darkness. Scarlet's thirst for revenge had driven her to become a devil, fueled by the pain of her past.

But as she continued her reign of terror, a new challenge emerged. Love came knocking on her door, in the form of two men, each with their own secrets and motives. One, a man, determined to save her from the darkness, and the other, a man, who seemed to understand her pain.

Scarlet found herself torn between her desire for revenge and the possibility of redemption. As she navigated the treacherous landscape of love and hate, she realized that her revenge might come at a higher cost than she had ever imagined.

Will Scarlet succeed in her quest for revenge, or will love and redemption change her course? Can she escape the dangerous love triangle that threatens to consume her, or will she succumb to the darkness that has driven her for so long? The fate of Italy hangs in the balance, as Scarlet's story unfolds.

Warning 18+ only!
“On your knees, Lilith,” light shone in from the crack in the wall, illuminating the mocking grin on his annoyingly perfect face.
I spat defiantly, “It’s Celeste to you.”
“And, no.”
Mischief glinted in his hazel eyes before he placed a strong hand on my head and pushed me to my knees with ease, keeping me down with the weight of his muscled arm.
“I don’t give orders twice,” he grunted, undoing his pants with his other free arm, “Celeste,” his tone dripping with arrogance.
Against my will, arousal stirred in my core as memories of him plunging in and out of my mouth mercilessly a few days ago flashed through my mind’s eye.
“Every word that leaves your lips doesn't count as an order to me, because I’ll never be your subject, nor will you ever be my master,” I challenged fiercely.
The next second, his expression morphed into fury and he let his magnificent length spring free. His hands found my jaw and my watering mouth dropped open of its own accord before he slammed all seven inches down my throat unforgivably.
“I own you, Lilith. I always will.”


He’s a century-old cursed hybrid, and she’s a sea-star; a rare mystical being and the only one who can lift his curse, but he makes an enemy out of her and she refuses.
A one night stand makes their paths cross, and years later, her escape from her captors reunites them.
At first, he hates Celeste’s guts because she refused to break his curse, and she hates his guts even more because he kidnaps her while she’s escaping her guardians, and denies her only family peace in the afterlife.
Slowly, the lines between hatred and desire blur, but betrayal and deceit stirs the mix.