Di Wang Gong Lue - Chapter 178

Dreaming back to the Tang Dynasty, being an ordinary person, greedy for money, lustful, debauched and free.

- Description from novelbuddy

“Ahhh! Elliot! Why? What are you—why? … Why?!”

Rose Honeywell, the beloved sister of Duke Honeywell, living her life as a rose nurtured in a greenhouse.

Everything changed on the day Elliot Proud, her fiancé, randomly attacks her brother at the year-end celebration, then chases her down and murders her.

“I can’t forgive you. I CAN’T FORGIVE YOU!”

In the last moments of her short life, gnashing her teeth while shedding bitter tears of regret, Rose returns a month before everything ends.

She won’t suffer like in the past!

As she fights to survive, His Majesty, her brother’s close friend, slowly finds his way into her heart.

But the secrets of her family surround her and tighten like a noose.

Will Rose be able to change her horrific future with a chance of happiness?

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

By coincidence, Li Yunmu found a super machine from humanity’s age of darkness. From that point onwards, his ordinary life would never be the same! Aptitude? Innate talent? What are these? Could they be eaten?

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.”