Am I a Healer? You'd Better Think So! - Chapter 50: Enemies Arrived

A 24-year-old woman traveled to the novel world due to a plane crash. She takes over the body of a cannon fodder who bears the same name as her. She traveled to a time when everything was scarce. The moment she opened her eyes, she was told that in two months, she would marry a lame man.Flustered girl : “Why didn't anyone tell me that my fiancé is so good-looking?”Proud fiancé : “Baby, I'm glad you like my face and body. Shall I warm your bed now?”Confused girl : “Didn't they say you are a cripple? How can you move so vigorously?”Vigorous husband : “Where did you hear such rumors? It seems that I need to prove myself to you.”Shy girl : “So shameless...”

In her last life, Qu Zhi tried her best to be a good wife who was sensible and did not cause trouble, a filial and good daughter who helped her family, and a good mother who accompanied her children. However, Qu Zhi worked hard and suffered all her life. When she was about to die, she realized that in the end, all she got back for her hard work were complaints. Her husband complained that she was an idle, rich wife all day long who wasn’t satisfied with her happiness at home, and that she was a greedy woman.

But after decades of marriage, her husband had a firm, deadly hold on all her money, and she didn’t even have a dime to her name, nor a property to call her own. Every time she asked for money, he would trample all over her self-esteem. Her husband’s cold and sarcastic words made her unable to lift her head, and his friends would demean her while drinking wine, making her tremble with anger. This man had once said he would take care of her, yet he turned a blind eye! Those people focused on her happiness as a topic, and made a joke out of it.

Even her three children resented her for her uneven love towards everyone, and their relationship only became more strained as time passed. She had spent her whole life as a loner, and she had nothing. Lying on the operation table, Qu Zhi thought that if she could do it all over again, she wouldn’t be a housewife. She wouldn’t have given her second daughter away, and she wouldn’t take care of her blood-sucking relatives.

She wouldn’t marry her indifferent, cold husband either! When she next opened her eyes, she was back to twenty years in the past. Her eldest daughter was still in elementary school, and her second daughter had been in her belly for several months…

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.