Transmigrating as the Younger Sister of a Bigshot with Multiple Identities - Chapter 1113 - : Yangyang’s Deception

Hello, my name is Bologue Lazarus, a debtor.The wound on Bologue's face is healing at an observable speed. The blood remaining on his face flows back, and the skin is reattached, as if time is reversing.Faced with the terrified dying demon, he whispered.This is my “blessing”, the “debt” I owe.Sixty-six years ago, with the end of the Scorched Earth Fury, Opus of Oath City rose from the ruins of the Holy City.Sixty-six years later, the Kagader Empire and Rhine Alliance, two colossal entities spanning the continent, are plotting another all-consuming war.Order Bureau, King's Secret Sword, Order of Truth, Corrupted Sect, All Secrets Order... existences hidden in the shadows of history, trying to join this grand celebration.Under the curtain, the devils enjoy the agony of mortals, taste the values offered, manipulate fate, and bestow curses and blessings.Gazing at the mortals who were originally kindred spirits, they loathe and slaughter each other...

There exists eight hardships of human life- living, aging, being sick, dying, resenting, parting with loved ones, being unable to let go, and being unable obtain something.

In each life, each person will experience their own hardship. Once they obtain happiness, they are furthermore unable to let go. Whether it would be heartfelt love or resenting someone down to the bone, would it matter? As long as that person’s bone has my name, it would be good.

- Description from Novelupdates

He rose from abjection and achieved eternity in glory.
He embraced the prettiest beauties and killed the strongest opponents.
He was able to shift the clouds into rain and cover the sky with one hand.
He could overrun the entire world and go anywhere as he pleased.
He pacified wars and held the world in awe.
He was matchless in the world.
However, his hair turned white overnight for his beloved woman and he was on the verge of death.
He was surrounded by enemies who were trying to take his life.
He struggled his way to become mighty and fought for everything he cherished.
For this age, he was the only king of the Dark World.
His name was a byword for might.
As a man living in the world, his only ideal was to pursue brilliance.

Three rejections. Three shattered dreams. That was Layla’s reality, all because she was different—a half-shifter in a world obsessed with purity. Ostracized, shunned, and finally sold off like a pawn to the most feared ruler alive—the Lycan King. He was ruthless, a king with a graveyard of brides, each one a ghostly reminder of a fate worse than death.Layla loathed him. Hated the way his gaze cold and fathomless, held no warmth for her. Hated how his touch, both thrilling and terrifying, sent an uninvited chill down her spine.---“I hate you!” I screamed, hands clenched so tight my knuckles ached.He sighed, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips, his tone mocking as he closed his book with a deliberate snap. “Stressed, are we?” he asked, strolling toward me, each step reminding me exactly who held the power here.“Lucky for you,” he drawled, rolling up his sleeves as he stopped just inches away, “I know exactly 70 ways to ease those nerves.” His fingers brushed my cheek, a touch that seemed to burn into my skin. “The first… a hug.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he leaned in, breath hot against my ear. “And the rest... well, that's 69? what do you say about that?”I swallowed hard, my heart thudding wildly as he tilted his head, waiting for me to react, that insufferable smirk still in place.“What’s the matter, darling?” he murmured, a taunt lingering in his gaze.---A Dangerous ObsessionCan she resist the pull, or will she dance into the flames of her own destruction?A dark dive into obsession, raw need, and the razor’s edge between desire and devastation.---LYCAN KING CASSIANI will tear her apart piece by piece, feeding the wildfire that grips her with each shuddered breath. Like air to flame, I’ll claim every inch, drawing heat from her skin until it sinks into her bones.Her pulse will race under my hands, her breaths shallow, pleading. Her eyes may scream, but her lips will still murmur my name. That first taste of fear will only feed something deeper—a need that burns through her veins, molten and fierce.And just when she’s too far gone to turn back, I’ll twist the knife, giving her the pain she’s learned to crave.She’ll be the moth to my flame, helpless against the very thing that will consume her.