Dear Immortal Tyrant - Chapter 372 Once More

She is the eldest daughter of the Zanying family, born noble, beautiful and beautiful, with a peerless appearance;

In the last life, she gave everything she had to help him win the world, but in return she got all her family killed;

In the last life, the person who killed her ascended to the throne of the phoenix, the mother of the world, the honor and wealth, but she was imprisoned in the cold palace and suffered all kinds of humiliation;

Reborn in elementary school, she is no longer a pawn at the mercy of others, she is the best in the world in medical skills, and she has a delicate heart to plan and plan the world;

In this life, she wants to protect her dear ones, to avenge her revenge, and to avenge her grudges;

In this life, she wants that young man who rides his horse and sings lightly, regardless of sword, light or sword, to live a long and safe life!

Though he received the skills necessary to teleport across worlds, the king who performed the summoning ritual attempted to trick him into wearing a slavery collar, this annoyed him so he kidnapped the princess and returned to Earth.

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.”

After assisting the man she loves with all her heart to the throne, Li Wanrou dies miserably in the cold palace, her dead body wrapped in a broken mat and thrown into the disorderly funeral hillock.