Possessive Madman Coaxes Him With a Hand on His Waist! The Cold-Hearted Host Starts to Feel Something - Chapter 100

Li Cheng lifted his head, following the trail of the inky-black hair caught between his fingers.

Before him sat a man, one hand propped lazily against his temple. His hair was as dark as mist and smoke, his face carved with a beauty so deep and dangerously seductive that it carried an effortless arrogance. His gaze was slow, unhurried, soaked in quiet indulgence as he looked at Li Cheng.

His long fingers pressed lightly to his temple—smooth and pale as warm jade—his whole being like a painting brought to life.

Li Cheng’s face flushed red in an instant.

Those hands… they had touched every inch of him.

“I’m not mean,” the man said, his voice calm and low.

Li Cheng’s fingers trembled. In his slight movement, they brushed against the man’s bare chest—sending an even stronger shiver through him.

For two full seconds, his breathing stopped. Then realization hit.

“Ah—!!!”

The Little Fox let out a piercing scream.

The man in his bed was—was—the Main God?!

Where was Zhu Ci?!

Why was the Main God in his bed?!

Where was Zhu Ci!!!

Li Cheng’s first instinct was to run.

Save me, someone—Mother, please!

But before he could even move an inch, a pair of strong arms circled his waist. The man’s wickedly beautiful eyes glinted as they roamed over Li Cheng’s face.

“Little Fox, don’t tell me you plan to sleep with someone and then pretend you didn’t?”

Li Cheng: “…???”

The teasing voice continued, amusement curling in every syllable. “Aren’t nine-tailed fire foxes supposed to value responsibility above all else? My Little Fox had better remember the ancestral teachings.”

Li Cheng’s eyes widened, staring at the man in disbelief. He… slept with the Main God?

No—no, that wasn’t right!

He was the one who got slept with!

The memory of last night flashed through his mind. His hand moved subconsciously to his lower abdomen, his expression darkening by the second. Everything about him—it’s the same. Even the faint scent on his skin… identical.

In that instant, all his confusion and doubt connected at once, and his scalp tingled.

The same scent.

Even Ah Keng’s system didn’t have clearance to access past identities.

And the divine power in his blood—too pure, too ancient.

Li Cheng’s eyes narrowed, voice trembling with anger. “Yuan Zheng! You lied to me!”

Their gazes locked—his fury sharp enough to wound, his emotions coiling like a storm.

He’d forgotten all about fear or escape. Rage burned it all away.

“I didn’t,” said the Main God—Yuan Zheng—his tone suddenly grave.

Li Cheng’s mind raced, one memory bleeding into the next until confidence flared. He yanked Yuan Zheng’s wrist, sitting upright to demand, “Then tell me—who is Yan Jin?”

Yuan Zheng’s brows twitched. His long fingers tapped idly against his temple as he replied with maddening calm, “One of my souls.”

“And Zhu Ci?” Li Cheng’s fists clenched.

“The second soul.”

Li Cheng immediately grabbed Yuan Zheng’s arm and yanked up his sleeve.

There, etched into his right wrist, was the dark sigil of a Heart-Sealing Spell.

A fresh wave of fury surged through Li Cheng. He felt utterly played with.

When the Little Black Dragon had first transformed into human form before him, Li Cheng had been stunned speechless by his beauty—his very hair shimmered with an innate arrogance. Li Cheng had fallen hard, foolishly thinking it was love.

He had even sworn to marry the Little Black Dragon, to make him his “wife.”

So the first time he saw that human form, Li Cheng had… bitten him.

But foxes had a Heart-Sealing Spell—without revealing one’s nine tails, a fox could not form a true bond.

At the time, Li Cheng believed the Little Black Dragon hadn’t revealed his tails for him, that his heart had been one-sided, unreciprocated.

It had hurt. Deeply.

Eventually, he stopped raising the Little Black Dragon altogether.

His reason? He was afraid one day he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from… doing something impulsive.

It wouldn’t have been fair to the dragon.

He had to be a proper, self-restrained fox gentleman.

Later, when the Little Black Dragon returned, he was no longer little—he was massive. When his dragon form coiled around the Little Fox, claws gleaming, Li Cheng had been terrified out of his wits.

That was when he finally learned—

The Little Black Dragon was the Main God of the Myriad Void.

As for having once lusted after the Main God?

Li Cheng’s stance: Never happened.

Who in their right mind would dare try to make the Main God their wife?!

After that revelation, the “revenge” began—one petty act after another.

Li Cheng’s fear of the dragon ran bone-deep, his feelings a mess of awe and lingering trauma.

He had always understood that time in his life as a painful, unrequited first love.

But after the Little Black Dragon became the Great Black Dragon? He’d only had one thought—

Should’ve never raised him in the first place. Damn ungrateful beast! He really plucked my fur! Who wants a spouse that vicious?! No wonder no one wants him!

Thinking of it all now, Li Cheng’s gaze darkened further.

He’d thought he’d found someone new to fall for.

But after everything, it was still him.

That damned dragon.

The Little Fox’s eyes lowered, lashes fluttering like shadows over moonlight. His fingers slid through the Main God’s hair, curling a strand around them. “So?”

“You like me that much?”

Li Cheng looked at that face—breathtaking, untouchable, beautiful enough to ruin worlds. His fingers tightened. “You’re good, Main God. Very good at what you do.”

Without waiting for a response, Li Cheng shoved him away, got up, dressed in record time, and stormed out of the room.

The Main God frowned, his expression darkening.

Apparently, he’d handled that poorly again. Shouldn’t have revealed himself so soon.

[You were too hasty, my Lord.]

[The Fox Host must be angry now.]

[When he’s angry, he always gets like this—crying and sulking and—]

Yuan Zheng gazed after Li Cheng’s retreating back, quietly eavesdropping on his thoughts.

They were loud—blaring, echoing, raw with emotion.

And beneath the fury came a small, aching whisper, distant and hollow.

Cold. Detached. Bitter.

“Am I really that easy to fool…?”

“Why did you lie to me?”