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... y of antiques, ceramics, and jade artifacts, all haphazardly arranged. It was as if someone had simply tossed them there without a second thought.

He picked up an old book and flipped through it. It was an out-of-print calligraphy booklet, something he had been wanting to buy for his grandfather but never could find.

Beside it were ancient antiques, flawless jade artifacts, and masterful calligraphy and paintings. Each piece could be worth several hundred million dollars if sold.

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Traveling back to 1983, Lu Jiaxin faced the beginning: her original owner failed the college entrance examination and was abducted, her stepmother was a sweetheart and her father was a pure egoist.

Designer Lu from Hell’s Beginning decided: The stepmother will be in the first grade of junior high school, and she will be in the fifteenth grade! My father is not a good man, so she taught him how to be a good man!

She still had to go to university. I heard that the University of Hong Kong in the 1980s was very valuable, so she waved her sleeves and ventured into Hong Kong’s financial circle.

Big Brother, Beep Machine, Lingling Paint on the dance floor!

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As a princess that could not wield magic, Princess Daphne’s only value to her kingdom was her arranged marriage. The task was simple, but when Daphne gets kidnapped and brought to the cold mountains of Vramid, she realizes that she’s in over her head.

She had heard of these cursed mountains before― rocky terrain, freezing temperatures, and the land was ruled by a man feared by many within the continent.

King Atticus Heinvres, the blood-thirsty ruler of the North.

Even though she had never met him before, tales were spread of King Atticus’s ruthlessness. Some said he was a monster, others claimed he was the devil himself, but whatever the story was, everyone knew of the man who had powers beyond anyone’s imagination. He could topple armies and crumble nations with just one wave of his hand, aided by what others rumored to be a cursed obsidian ring.

No one outside of Vramid had ever met the fearsome king before. Not until Daphne.

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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