Be a Good Boy and Marry Me - Chapter 119 - Gu Li, The Deep Influence on

It’s the vacation of a lifetime, a trip to a remote island filled with geniuses and murder.

She transmigrated into an orphan, thinking that she still had her boyfriend with her, yet in an instant, her world crashed. For the position of heir, he said, “Yao’er, why don’t you become my second wife?” A sentence destroyed her wishful thinking, causing her to end their relationship of two lives cruelly. Leaving the hustle bustle, she then lived in a forest, wanting to find an honest man to spend the rest of her life with. But not long after getting married, she realized that the honest man she married was a bit dishonest.

“Are you not an ordinary hunter?” she stared at the man pretending to be innocent in a furious manner. Is the ending going to be this way? Of course not, the story had just begun from the moment she changed her future.

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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.”