All My Disciples Suck Novels & Stories

Then he growls, “Mate.” Not figuratively. Literally. I think I flatline. I think I fucking flatline. Fuck my life.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Dozens of disciples of God Sword Organization fell to the ground. Their expressions were extremely terrified. But they couldn't see how Lucas did it. Lucas said to the disciples on the ground, "Now, are you fellows willing to believe me?" The dozens of disciples on the ground all swallowed their saliva as they looked at Lucas in horror. A disciple asked, "How... How did you accomplish that?" Lucas naturally didn't want to continue talking nonsense with them. At this moment, someone he knew walked out.

He pointed at Fane’s face, and said, “It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out! All of the last disciples were chosen from the formal disciples. And you’re right, we formal disciples were once informal disciples too but we got to where we are right now through our talent and hard work! Not to mention you didn’t even get accepted through our standard procedures. You, of all people, have no right to tell me to shut up!” His words were exactly what many of the spectators were thinking, and the disdain in their eyes intensified. Some of them even began to shout out their displeasure at Fane. “Did you hear that, you punk? Do you really think you’re a match for us formal disciples? You don’t even

I was so sad. I was left to cook, wash and sweep the floor. And sometimes, I get bullied and scorned by the other disciples around me. But I never got to think about the bully, at least, some of them care for me. "Hey Vic, mind if I spar with you?" A disciple came and several disciples had gathered and they all started shouting. "Go for it!! Go for it!!" I felt so embarrassed to refuse their request. So I finally agreed to spar with him.

Not as a junior artist but as a featured contributor. It was the kind of opportunity I had dreamed about since university. The kind of opportunity Joe had always dismissed as “a silly hobby.” I should have been over the moon. Instead, my hand trembled as I mixed colors. The public reaction to the cheating photos was still exploding online. #JoePritchettIsAnAnimal was trending number one. People were calling for the feds to investigate his assets under the fraud act. Comments poured in saying he deserved to suffer for what he’d done. Some women were sharing their own stories of abusive marriages, tagging me as inspiration.

"Speak. Who sent you?" "Spit! You think I'll talk?!" "Damn you. Flay him alive until he confesses—" Before Kaelus could finish his command, the intruder let out a maniacal grin with the last vestige of his strength. He stared up at the Grand Duke, a sickening look of triumph in his eyes. A faint, sickening crunch echoed from within his mouth. "Don't let him bite his tongue!" the god of war roared. But it was already too late.

He'd been an intelligent man, but this was absolutely idiotic of him. Did he really think I'd say yes after he'd relentlessly pestered me for so long? Where did his confidence come from? "Did you think I'd forget about what you've done after this marking ceremony?" Consumed by fury, I slapped him across the cheek, shocking everyone present. Silence fell in the church. Several seconds later, a colleague of mine asked in confusion, "Isn't he your boyfriend?" I turned to look at her and scoffed. "Did you just believe what he said about being my boyfriend? We broke up a long time ago. And he wants me to bear his mark? How preposterous!"

Alfred glared at me, clearly disgruntled by my words, while Dexter shook his head. “Princess, if you don’t quit cussing like a sailor, we will have to reprimand you. Twenty push-ups each time you cuss,” Dexter said. I cringed. “Push-ups? I hate push-ups.” “I agree with him, and twenty isn’t a lot. We will increase that number by ten each day you use profanities,” Alfred said. I pulled my lips together. “Well, I am glad I don’t use profanities in each sentence I speak.”