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... ed face. The houses lining both sides had been reduced to rubble, and a haze of smoke floated over the city. Across the road lay the wreckage of destroyed buses and cars, scattered in a chaotic mess. In the larger craters, broken water pipes and sewage mains gushed clear water and foul sludge, merging together and turning the streets into filthy cesspools.

The shrill air raid sirens had finally fallen silent.

Pierre wandered aimlessly through the streets. Staring at the apocalypt ...

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It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.When Aria crashes into Kael’s empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, she’s met not with defiance—but a dare. “You want revenge?” he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation.“Then ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.” His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac.“Hate me until your hands shake,” he growls. “But do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.”Their arrangement is a collision of dominance and delirium. Aria wields her fury like a blade, determined to break him. Kael? He thrives under her wrath, goading her darker, deeper, hungrier.But vengeance turns slippery when every command she hisses ignites his obedience, and every cold glare melts into bruising kisses. Soon, the bed becomes a battleground—her nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpent’s promise: “Chain me with your rage, darling. I’ll still come back for more.”The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, who’s destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, what’s left when the ashes cool?

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Song Zhao has always been a woman who spares no means to achieve her goals, and at the same time she lives more clearly than anyone else.

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“I entered the palace just to become the Empress, why else? To go cook for someone else?”

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