A Precious Pearl in the Imperial City - Chapter 113

On the night of her engagement, Stella Norton, the adopted and unworthy second daughter of James Norton, is accused of infidelity and replaced by her own sister.Humiliated and heartbroken, Stella is cast out of the hall under her father’s orders while her mother looks on.In a daze of pain and betrayal, she wanders into a club, desperate to drown her sorrow—only to fall into the arms of a stranger ~Adrian Carter~ whose presence feels dangerously magnetic.By morning, she wakes to a shocking reality. Adrian holding out a marriage certificate. “Mate, we’re married,” he said.“What mate?”“What marriage?”“We were never school mates, how do you call me mate?” She shrieked.Adrian Carter, the cold and mysterious heir of the Carter Empire had a secret no one knows…he is the Alpha of the most powerful pack in Crown City.But fate doesn’t stop at secrets. As their worlds collide, Stella discovers that her own past is far from ordinary.Hidden truths, prophecies, bonds, and dark forces begin to rise—testing not only their love but their very fate.Will their marriage survive the storm of destiny?Can love survive when destiny itself demands blood and truth?Or will it consume them both?

Pei Jin is a black bellied prince. To outsiders he is a kind gentleman and always calm.

The horror game anchor Xiao Tangqiu crossed into a horror game.

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.”