Empire of India: Rise of the Ruthless Prince - Chapter 251 Lankan Rumors

Every overbearing president will always have a coquettish, pure, or lively white moonlight in their hearts. They are the vicious female partners in the novel, the stepping stones of the heroine, and the tool to promote the feelings of the hero and heroine. In the end, because of jealousy, run-down and decay she became a coquettish bit*h that everyone hated. However, one day-after Su Luó , who is unreasonable, indifferent and calm came… the domineering president of every world would be desperate, heartbroken, and desperate to make a living. Love is like poison, making people crazy and go crazy..

- Description from Novelupdates

Aoki’s resolute face was indifferent. “If the sun doesn’t shine on me, please let me be surrounded by darkness!”
From a different perspective, look at the entire Pokemons world.

- Description from Uukanshu

“You are my salvation and an answer to my cursed eyes.”------In a world of vampires, werewolves, and witches, a girl is born to be the bride of the vicious and bloodthirsty 300-year-old immortal Vampire Prince. The man who could never be enticed by any ethereal beauty till now suddenly has shown interest in a woman with a curse whom everyone abandoned.Alora Wilson, the eldest daughter of a high-noble human family, is born with the curse of an old powerful witch.It is the curse that burns the person into ashes if the person looks directly into her eyes. A curse that forces her to wear the blindfold since the moment she was born in this world.When the kids of her age enjoyed every small moment of their lives, she couldn't. No one loves to befriend her. Even her own father and siblings despise her.One day Magnus Lukeson, the Vampire Prince, enters her life– The man whom the entire kingdom is scared of. A man with only foes and no friends. A man who ventures his territory at night to take the fresh blood out of humans irrespective of the age or gender to quench his thirst.~~~~~The blindfold cascaded off Alora's eyes and her enchanted blue eyes met with Magnus' blood-red eyes.“You have enchanting eyes, Alora,” Magnus pronounced.No one ever said that to her. But no one could look into her eyes either. Only Magnus was the exception. The reason was still unknown to her.“Shall we begin the night?” Magnus asked for her permission.“Will His Highness give me love?” Alora asked. She was desperate to be loved. The feeling she could never get from her family and only heard in the words.“And how am I supposed to provide love to you?” Magnus queried since he was curious to know her thoughts.“Holding hands, hugging each other, sleeping together, and sharing thoughts. Isn't that how you shower love?” Alora innocently asked.Magnus ended up smiling to hear her explanation of love. He leaned down and kissed her lips, causing her to shiver from that sudden feeling. “This is the way I shower love,” Magnus pronounced, gazing into Alora's charming blue eyes.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”