MTL - Cultivation of Immortals Begins with Drilling Wood To Make Fire - Chapter 582 [The monarch and his ministers are facing each other during the tour]

[Dazzling Beauty × Aloof Tycoon] [His Deliberate Plan]That night, abandoned by the man she had loved for ten years, she was deeply saddened and sought solace in alcohol, but accidentally drank the drugged liquor. Then, he appeared. With a lazy posture and a relaxed tone, he asked, “How about being with me?” He was a big shot feared by all and stood atop the pyramid of society. She knew he was a handful, yet she was still somewhat captivated by him. Thus, she agreed, “Fine.”From then on, it became widely known that he had taken a woman under his wing, doting on her excessively and granting her every wish. Some were jealous and said, “How long can he spoil her? They're just acting and will break up soon.” In fact, she thought the same, so she never dared to fall in love and awaited the day when she would be cast aside. Later, when rumors of a new companion in his life reached her ears, she prepared to leave, but he refused, saying, “You are the only one I have loved all along.”Little did she know, he had loved her for ten years...

Two Zatarian youths embark on a cross-dimensional journey to uncover their true identities, encountering both allies and formidable adversaries along the way.They must collaborate to decipher the significance of the symbol imprinted on them, but a faction known as the Nitharians seeks to eliminate them before they can uncover the truth. Naburo, the leader of the Nitharians, has dispatched his most trusted son and his team to guarantee the success of this mission.Will Naburo's son and his team prevail before the Zatarians discover their true selves?

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.”

She died with her eyes wide open, waiting by the river for three days and three nights, only to be greeted not by her husband, but by her benefactor. As she looked at the blurred figure, her heart was deeply moved, and she silently made a vow: if she could be reborn, she would definitely marry him!… Later, she really was reborn.

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