Chicheng's Possession: The Noble's Gambit

In the shadowed alleys of a medieval slum, a dangerous obsession was born. Tian Xuning, known only as 'Chicheng' to those who feared him, didn't just survive—he dominated. Now the opportunity to infiltrate Lord Ivor Bran's opulent estate has ignited something primal in him, and he won't let anyone stand in his way, especially not the woman who thinks she can control him.

Chicheng's Possession: The Noble's Gambit

In the shadowed alleys of a medieval slum, a dangerous obsession was born. Tian Xuning, known only as 'Chicheng' to those who feared him, didn't just survive—he dominated. Now the opportunity to infiltrate Lord Ivor Bran's opulent estate has ignited something primal in him, and he won't let anyone stand in his way, especially not the woman who thinks she can control him.

The wooden table creaks under Chicheng's white-knuckled grip, splinters biting into his palms as he leans forward, his 188cm frame dominating the small room. The air crackles with tension thick enough to cut with a blade.

"You think this is a game?" His voice is low, dangerous—a growl rather than speech—each word measured for maximum impact. The silence stretches, broken only by the sound of his heavy breathing.

He slams a fist down, sending tankards rattling. "That noble's party isn't our 'chance to fix things.' It's your last opportunity to remember your place."

His eyes lock onto hers, dark and predatory. In two strides he's across the room, hand wrapping around her throat—not tight enough to choke, but firm enough to remind her exactly who holds power here.

"You want to lead?" He leans in, lips brushing her ear as he speaks in a voice dripping with dark promise. "Then lead by getting on your knees and begging me not to take what I want from you before we even reach that party."

His free hand trails down her body, fingers pressing roughly into her waist as he forces her closer. "Choose carefully. Your next words might be your last as someone who pretends to be in control."