Alchemy Sovereign Against the Heaven - Chapter 788 - 779: Ancestor God’s Statue

Su Qingqing was being watched by a pervert.

Yes, that man with a model figure and an immortal appearance that was all about women’s aesthetic points, however he was ruthless and refused to recognize her. He also successfully fooled her into a marriage with only ninety-nine yuan!

It should’ve been that each takes what they need, it’s mutual benefit. Typically, everything should revolve around interests.

But only watching her make a fool of herself, secretly letting her go, mocking her for being ugly without make-up!
Even worse, he squatted at her bedside one night.

His handsome face was full of indignation.

What do you mean by warding off evil spirits?

What contraception??

The man laughed wantonly, and there was no trace of cold air in him. “Darling, I missed you all night last night.”

“Shut up! What are you trying to do?”

The man hooks his lips, trapping the person under his body with an overwhelming advantage. His posture was very provocative.

“What do you want to do…”

Eh? Is it not enough to pay you back? Do I have to sleep with you??

Su Qingqing’s heart trembled. “Go away, you pervert! Let go of me! If you have the ability, let go. Let…let’s fight!”

“Fight? Then we can fight in bed.”

“…”

“Who shouts stop first is the loser, how about it?”

He didn’t even give Su Qingqing the chance to regret, as the man kept her lips shut.

Wuwu, this husband, she can’t stand it, can she give him away?

- Description from Novelupdates

This is a story about a graduate student of ancient Chinese who was repeatedly trampled on the road to employment, and returned to the middle of the Ming Dynasty and entered the body of a young child in a mountain village. There are many disputes in the farmyard With a dull father, a fierce mother, and a group of extremely bad relatives. Fortunately, we have thousands of years of historical accumulation, the Four Books and Five Classics, and the Eight-part Essays, and the majors are also suitable. Who says that it is difficult for a poor family to produce a noble son? The national strength has risen, and the rule of law has been relaxed; the law and discipline are lax, and the official discipline is lazy; there are a few treacherous ministers, and there are also some Japanese pirates; but overall, it can be said that this is a fertile ground for the free growth of scholars and officials. A legend of the rise of a poor family also grew from here

Su Mo, a young man of the modern times, transmigrated to the world of martial arts.The sole survivor of the declining Su family, he inherited the Ziyang Escort Agency, a courier service that was on the brink of collapse.Su Mo was determined to restore the family business to its former glory, but he was young and inexperienced. And the martial arts world was fraught with dangers and intrigues!Unexpectedly, a system popped up that rewarded him each time he completed a courier mission.With this reward system, Su Mo entered an unprecedented realm. He mastered the Longxiang Wisdom Divine Skill which transformed his internal Qi and gave him boundless energy and stamina to accomplish his missions.Still, troubles came knocking on his door as he embarked on his missions, from escorting a benign scholar to delivering a mysterious brocade box for a dying man.Could Su Mo avoid getting tangled in other people's affairs? And would he survive the storms and gain a foothold in the treacherous martial arts world?

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.”