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Scp Stairwell

The Lady of the Prestigious Family is a Big Boss

[The female lead in this story is explosive, the male lead is arrogant, there's a mountain of dog food (sweet moments), and it's a story full of slag-abusing and monster-fighting, with a double dose of pampering joy.] Ye Jiuliang was naturally cold and ruthless, with a fierce and wild approach to life. To the Ye Family, she was a calamitous lone star, and to the onlooking crowd, she was "Ninth Master". It was said, no one was more arrogant than Ye Jiuliang; if she was second, no one claimed the first place. Irritatingly, in the eyes of Li Mochan, she was his little wolf cub, the little rascal that he, Li Mochan, intended to pamper to the skies. In the capital, it was widely rumored that the Li Family's Crown Prince could reduce people to ashes with just one look. And yet, this precious and aloof figure was actually teased by Ye Jiuliang, and it seemed even... blushed. ** Upon returning from a business trip, Li Wuye cornered her in a dim stairwell, his fingertips sliding over her porcelain white neck, "How many little brothers are there?" Meeting his dark gaze, Ye Jiuliang arched an eyebrow, "Is Li Wuye in the mood to beat someone up?" "So what if I am?" Li Mochan narrowed his eyes slightly, "Feeling pity?" Ye Jiuliang held back a laugh and nodded, "The little brothers can't take a hit, can you go easy on them?" [In the private room where Xiang Tian and others were singing their hearts out, they inexplicably felt a chill running down their spines.] Li Mochan buried his face in her shoulder and spat out fiercely, "I cannot." Those who dare to flirt with his wolf cub deserved a ruthless beating.
Mint Cool Summer · 238.7K Views

Creed: World’s Strongest

“You’ve been researching for years with nothing to show for it. Why not try something else?” Samia’s tone was sharp, but there was a thread of concern beneath it as she leaned against the doorframe. The room smelled faintly of sterilizing agents, and the rhythmic clicking of keys filled the silence. Dr. Elias didn’t respond immediately. Dressed in his lab coat, he stared at the screen with unwavering focus, his fingers flying over the keyboard. When he finally turned to her, a slow, almost unsettling smile spread across his face. For a moment, he looked like any other scientist lost in his work—until he blinked. The motion was unnatural, his eyelids sliding horizontally across his eyes like a lizard’s. “Samia,” he said, his voice calm but electric with excitement, “I’ve figured it out. This time, it will work.” She opened her mouth to respond, but he was already on his feet, moving past her with an urgency that demanded she follow. They made their way through the sterile corridors of the facility, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a cold glow on the walls. The reinforced chamber was a stark contrast to the rest of the building. Thick steel doors hissed as they opened, and the hum of machinery grew louder as they stepped inside. In the center of the room stood a massive contraption—a web of wires, tubes, and blinking monitors surrounding a sleek, cylindrical core. “What is it this time?” Samia asked, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Dr. Elias didn’t answer. Instead, he moved with practiced precision, attaching cables and adjusting dials. The air felt heavier here, charged with the anticipation of something monumental—or catastrophic. “Get your goggles,” he said at last, stepping behind the protective glass. He tapped the side of his goggles, the lenses catching the faint blue glow of the machine. Samia hesitated. She had seen him fail before. Years of promises and miscalculations had made her wary, but there was something different in his demeanor this time—something unsettlingly confident. Reluctantly, she turned and jogged back to the lab to retrieve her goggles. The first explosion hit when she was halfway down the hall. The floor bucked beneath her, and she stumbled, her heart leaping into her throat. A deep, resonating boom echoed through the building, followed by a blaring alarm. “Dr. Elias!” she shouted, spinning around. Smoke and dust billowed toward her, and the acrid scent of burning wires filled the air. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, cutting off her path back to the reinforced chamber. And then she saw it. Through the swirling haze, a glowing orb hovered in the wreckage, pulsating with a light that seemed alive. It started small, no bigger than her fist, but it was growing—expanding with an eerie, deliberate rhythm. The hum it emitted was low and bone-deep, vibrating through the air and into her chest. “No, no, no,” she muttered, backing away. Every instinct screamed at her to run. She turned and bolted for the exit, her shoes skidding on the slick floor as she raced against the inevitable. She had barely reached the stairwell when a second explosion ripped through the building. The force of it threw her forward, and she hit the ground hard. Her vision blurred as heat and light engulfed her. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the structure groan as it gave way entirely. Then, everything went black.
Soren_007 · 26.5K Views

The Rise of the Fallen Star

Adrian Vale was a master of lies — a silver-tongued lawyer who wielded truth like a weapon and bent justice to the will of those who paid in bloodstained gold. Raised in the shadow of abandonment, he trusted no one, cared for nothing, and served only himself. His clients were monsters, and he was their priest, absolving them in court with venomous charm and ruthless cunning. But fate, ever patient, comes to collect. When Adrian takes on the defense of Marcus Drevane — a sadistic aristocrat with a body count carved in children’s bones — he expects another victory, another check. Instead, the case spirals into catastrophe. The jury sees through the veil. Drevane is sentenced. And in a final act of wrath, the madman buries a blade in Adrian’s side... and karma finishes the job on a cold courthouse stairwell. Yet death is not the end. Adrian awakens not to heaven, nor to the second-chance fantasy world he always mocked in cheap novels — but to Hell. Real. Endless. And familiar. Here, the damned walk trials of their own. Here, lies have weight. And here, Adrian Vale must face every soul he ever helped condemn to Earth’s broken justice. But even in damnation, Adrian is not done. Armed only with his wits, his defiance, and the flickering ember of something long buried — regret, perhaps... or the desire for redemption — Adrian must navigate the infernal courts of Hell itself, where devils prosecute the dead, and the wages of sin are never what they seem. This is the tale of a man who thought he’d fallen — only to discover he had much further to go.
PAYAL_GHOSH · 3.3K Views

Doomsday Elevator

The elevator stank of burnt wiring and adrenal sweat. Lucas Hayes came to consciousness with his cheek pressed against cold steel, the floor vibrating with the machine's perpetual ascent. A cracked display panel flickered: DAY 9 | SAFETY DURATION 00:03:44. Three warped tones echoed as the system imprinted directly onto his retinas: [Precognitive Matrix Activated] [Sector Transition Imminent] His vision fractured into augmented reality overlays. Bloodshot eyes darted between floating diagnostics: [Destination: Floor 248] Threat Classification: Standard Biohazards (Homo corruptus) x20 Recommended Arsenal: Bladed weapons (76% efficacy) Reward Manifest: Silver Cache (Full eradication required) Lucas gripped the shock-baton strapped to his thigh, its ceramic surface still smeared with luminescent fungal spores from yesterday's skirmish. The elevator's speakers emitted a decaying piano chord as new text scrolled through static: [Destination: Floor 249] Containment Unit: Obsidian Reliquary (SCP-XXXX Variant) Threat Level: White (Placid) His boot tapped rhythm against the floor where Natalie Evans had bled out seven cycles ago. The memory played in crystal clarity - her screams syncing perfectly with the elevator's current pitch-shifted rendition of Clair de Lune. [Destination: Floor 250] Entity Designation: Noctis lamia (Cognitive Hazard Class C)* Survival Probability: 41.2±18% The control panel erupted in fractal patterns as reality glitched. Lucas glimpsed William Carter's skeleton key lodged in the emergency brake slot - the same key that had melted through three layers of Kevlar when its owner died. "Beta protocol. Always beta." He smashed blood-crusted knuckles against the floor selector. The elevator screamed in harmonic resonance as it deviated from its programmed path.
DaoistfRF8HJ · 15.1K Views
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