Mrs. and Mr. Smith - Chapter 527 - : 527

One day, Saijō Haruto was forced by the Evil God of another world into reincarnation, and his soul was cursed.He was reborn into a world of swords and magic.In this world, one can become stronger by raising the level of their combat occupations.Unfortunately, Haruto cannot raise his level because of the curse.Haruto felt hopeless.However, because of the Evil God’s miscalculation, Haruto obtained an inexhaustible supply of magical power.This is the tale of how a Sage—cursed to have a “Locked” Status—managed to reach the pinnacle of strength by the effect of the curse.

Petite Princess VS Rough KhanOn their wedding day, Yelu Yan told Li Xianyun that apart from affection, he could provide her with endless wealth and honor.After the marriage, he indeed kept his promise, cherishing her in the palm of his hand.Little did he know, the more he cherished her, the deeper she burrowed into his heart, right to the very top.Not long after the political marriage with the Khitans, Li Xianyun gradually noticed earth-shattering changes around her:Initially, the commoners who disliked her began to worship her as a deity...The court officials accusing her of bewitching their lord were now pleading with her to consummate the marriage with the Khan...The most perplexing of all was her husband in name; wasn’t he the one who said he wouldn't give her emotional affection? Why was he always following her around?Little theater scene 1:One day, Yelu Yan cornered Li Xianyun against the wall.“Why are you avoiding this Khan?”“They say you might have taken a liking to your servant.”“Remove ‘might’, isn’t it obvious enough from how this Khan acts?”“But you said you wouldn’t give your servant emotional affection.”Yelu Yan held his forehead; he had indeed said too many foolish things.“The Han people always say that one should start a family and then establish a career; clearly, the two are not in conflict.”Little theater scene 2:The sun had risen high, yet Yelu Yan was still clinging to Li Xianyun.“Get up quickly, I have to leave. There are patients on the street waiting for my consultation, the good fields to the west need irrigation, the homestead plots in the east need measuring, and I have to oversee the silk reeling and dyeing... Uh...”“Your husband is a patient, don’t you care for him?”Li Xianyun looked at the man tough enough to rival ten bulls and was utterly speechless.

“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 .

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.”