I Fabricated the Techniques, but my disciple really mastered them? - Chapter 658 - 350 The Descent of the Dragon, Ceasing Breath to Slay the Gods_2

An Nuan thought that she was going to have her happy ending, marrying the love of her life when the man left her on their wedding day.“Pei Zhi Yi, the moment you step into the elevator, it's over between us.”An Nuan thought that she could stop her fiance from leaving, but that man still left for the other woman.The wedding hall was prepared and the guests had all arrived. With no groom beside her, An Nuan decided that she would marry anyone willing.“An Nuan, if you are willing, then how about considering me as your groom?”Unexpectedly, the young master of the Lin family, Lin Xiao Feng stepped forward to offer himself.An Nuan did not expect much from this marriage, especially when they both agreed that they were seeking to gain something through this marriage.Lin Xiao Feng needed someone as his wife in his political career. Meanwhile, she just needed to marry someone to get over Pei Zhi Yi. As someone who was disappointed by love, An Nuan no longer wanted to believe in love.She never thought that the marriage that she did not expect would turn out better than she had expected. Young Master Lin would pamper her and support her whenever she needed help.Wasn’t their marriage just for show?

Jian Heng, who lives in the United States, only wants to make enough money and return to China to retire happily. Unfortunately, by accident, he becomes a poor rancher!

Fortunately, he has an unknown cheat. From then on, Jian Heng started to run his own small ranch, and at the same time added some private goods, so that the group of American guests who came to the ranch adapted to the self-created Chinese style’ There are forceful living habits.

The new book “Small Peasants in the Great Era” is released, welcome everyone!

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”

“You want to steal my genes then leave?” He grabbed her and tried to force her to hand over the child that was born three years ago.