Alternate World: I Started With Two SSS Templates - Chapter 17

The MC entered the body of the An family eldest son, An Ziran, an arrogant 16 years old boy who weighed 78 kg (~171-172 lbs), who only knew how to eat, play and sleep. Seeing his current body, An Ziran decided his first priority was to LOSE WEIGHT!

Three days later after he became An Ziran, An Ziran’s father and his biological mother died, which meant as the eldest son he had to take over the family business.

Beside his legitimate first wife, An Ziran’s father also married 3 others women, who all wanted to take over the An family fortune but only the eldest son could be able to touch it, therefore they have to depend on An Ziran in order to live a comfortable live.

An Ziran’s father also had an older brother who is always planning to steal the An family fortune. The elder brother of An Ziran’s father and the woman he married had powerful connections. In order to save the An family fortune, An Ziran has to find a golden thigh to cling on. The butler told An Ziran that there is an engagement between the An family and an influential family. Therefore he takes his sister to that family house to make a connection.

However, during their journey, An Ziran’s younger sister overheard that the son of that family is UGLY, so as a beautiful and spoiled young lady coming from a rich household, she didn’t want to marry him and decided to run away. Without any other choice, An Ziran had to take his sister’s​ place and marry that man, who told him that he would let him go soon, but lied.

- Description from Novelupdates

I became the wife of a man with a lover. Well then, I guess I have to protect his chastity?

“You can sleep on the floor then.”

“What?” His eyes said he didn’t want to.

Well, yeah. The floor was hard. Then it couldn’t be helped.

“I’ll just hold your hand and sleep. You trust me, right?”

But, how come the bed broke on my first night with my husband?

*

Aristine, a princess confined out of the Emperor’s sight.

When in reality, she was the owner of the [Monarch’s Sight], able to see the future, past, and present.

She, who became the sacrifice for a political marriage, was married off to a terrifying barbarian…

“The most precious things should naturally be given to my bride.”

But her husband, whose monstrosity she prepared for, was way too normal.

However, he belonged to someone else.

‘I’ll go make money then.’

She might as well make the goldfields her own.

*

Can Aristine really achieve her dream of living freely on a pile of money?

Or will she end up killing two birds with one stone?

After recently taking on the job as the President of Jing Sheng Group’s assistant, she is reports to the president, that has also just taken office, for work.

“Tomorrow morning, postpone all the meetings. At 9 o’clock, follow me to the civil administration office to receive the license.”

On the first day of work, she already encountered an overbearing president that is forcing her to receive the license. Should she resist or obey?

At night, a certain someone leans on the edge of the door, saying in a light and lazy manner: “Madam, I want to turn off the lights. Are you sure you want to go to sleep wrapped like a steamed dumpling while holding a knife?”

“Either that or you can go out to sleep!”

“Impossible, this is my home!”

“During the day, you transferred the house to me. So now it’s my home!”

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.”