A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs - Chapter 89: Nothing But Kind to Me

A young boy genius, Suo Jia, is a water mage who dreams of being a warrior travelling the great and dangerous trade routes to find his lost father that set off on them before Suo Jia was born. Having to look after his sick mother, Suo Jia manages to find a way to solve all their problems, as well as make a name for himself. He gathers nobility, vast wealth, items of great power, knowledge lost to the ages, and exceptionally talented females around him as he plots and plans – preparing to set off on an epic journey that will go down in history as a new legend. However, will others that depend on his powers so much be willing to let him go on such a dangerous journey so easily?

In the 21st century, a female military doctor, Lu Jiao, transmigrated into a novel and became the vicious mother of four little villains and the wife of the future First Assistant.

In the novel, the four little ones would grow up into villains who committed all kinds of crimes and killed people without batting an eye. Eventually, they would end up getting killed by the male and female protagonists. To avenge his sons, the First Assistant would transform into the final boss and die after committing many sins.

Lu Jiao looked at the four little ones who were only up to her knees, then looked at the bedridden First Assistant. Forget it, she would do a good deed by educating these children properly and giving the First Assistant medical treatment while she was there.

What she didn’t expect was that the four little villains and the future First Assistant would want nothing more than to send her to her death.

They attempted to strangle her in the middle of the night, use broken pieces of porcelain to slice her arteries, and poison her food. Lu Jiao was furious. “I’m not doing this anymore. If you want to become villains, go ahead.”

However, the four little ones now refused to let her go.

“Mummy, please don’t go. We’ll be obedient from now on.”

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”