Memoirs of the Returnee - Chapter 320: Usurpation （6）

Despite having found Mingxi, the Zhao family continued to favor the fake daughter, saying that Mingxi was not as kind nor as graceful as Zhao Yuan.

Mingxi didn’t mind. She continued to work hard to please her family although they would always say that she was trying to rob their attention away from Zhao Yuan.

Until she died because of a terminal illness.

It was then that she realized that Zhao Yuan was the actual lady blessed by luck while she was merely this novel’s evil supporting character with a tragic ending.

Zhao Mingxi who was given a second chance at life was bitterly disappointed. She no longer cared about her family. Screw her family and her fiancé. She immediately packed her bags and left home, off to complete the task given by the system named ‘Becoming Friends With Fashionable and Valuable Characters’.

After she left, the house suddenly became cold and quiet.

By right they should feel at ease, but–

Her parents, her indifferent elder brother, her brash younger brother, Chen Liyao who was used to her pursuits were all successively feeling… unused to it?

Everyone is not optimistic when the most renowned man in Yuncheng married the least favored miss of the Mu family.

Rumor has it that the young Miss Mu family is pathetic, weak and dainty and an easy subject to bullying.

Mu Huan nodded enthusiastically: En, I’m a bully.

The big man who was bullied by her didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: Doesn’t your conscience hurt whenever you claim this?

The once unloved Mu Huan, the moment she was a pampered wife, she became the mad devil . Since then, she was covered from fighting someone and taught when doing homework.

What evil step-mother, scum step-sister, black hearted white lotus, Mr. Bo will go all out to kill!

Being pampered and held in the palm of his hands, the conqueror of his heart, Mu Huan, was interviewed one day.

“Mrs. Bo, what is the secret to you and Mr. Bo’s everlasting love?”

“I like him the most, and he likes me best.”

- Description from Novelupdates

Xu Zimei found himself reborn, carrying with him all the heaven-shaking cultivation and memories from his previous life.But something was off about the script. Isn’t reincarnation always the protagonist’s theme? However, I was cast as the villain!This is the story of a villain's step-by-step journey to becoming the Demon King.——————————In an era of great strife, where mystical arts resonated!An elder of the True Martial Holy Sect sat at the Willow Bank River Fishing Platform when suddenly he heard the dragon’s roar. Three thousand carps knocked at the gate of life, transforming into the Measureless Golden Dragon, soaring through the firmament, graceful as a startling swan!There were strongmen who measured the heavens and earth with their strides, monks who sat in meditation in temples for three thousand years, achieving sudden enlightenment—auspicious clouds descended, and all laws of magic cheered in chorus.Blood moons darkened the night, rainbows cut through the daylight.There was a swordsman with a wooden sword on his back who, with a turn and a raise of his hand, shattered thousands of miles of rivers and mountains.In the south of the city, a ragged beggar with a broken willow twig dared to assault the Holy Court of a sect that boasted three emperors.

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.”