MTL - My Brother-in-law is the Prince - Chapter 128 rich again

She was the most unpopular female wolf in the New Moon Pack, as lowly as a blade of grass. Eight years ago, her mother went missing, her father was killed, and her entire pack was exterminated. Thus, she had been demoted to the lowest servant level by her father’s murderer. For eight years, she had been beaten, cursed, and starved, but she kept her identity a secret.

This year, she turned eighteen years old.

He was the alpha of the largest werewolf pack in all of America and shone like the sun. With his perfectly sculpted face and a tremendous amount of money, no werewolf didn’t know his name, and he was the dream lover of every woman. Everything seemed perfect, except for the fact that he didn’t have a mate yet.

This year, he turned twenty-six years old.

What kind of spark or conflict would there be when they meet by chance?

“Rose, I can give you everything you want. In exchange, you have to be mine.”

“Alpha, the truth is, I’m—”

“Oh, Jesus f*cking Christ! Now, you will never escape me, my Luna.

Tong Huaqiong transmigrated to ancient times into the body of the malicious widow Tong Dajiao and witnessed the execution scene where the malicious widow and her children were wiped out. She returned to the year Tong Dajiao had just become a widow.At the age of forty, she was already a grandmother, embodying the roles of both a wicked stepmother and mother-in-law. Naturally, the children she raised were bad bamboo shoots.The only slight comfort she felt was that, as a widow, she didn't have to serve an old husband.In this transmigration story, she lacked all the golden fingers like systems or noble birth.She didn't even have the chance to rise through marriage. Who could a widow marry? Especially with a bunch of burdens.She could only rely on herself and her bunch of bad bamboos at home.Revitalize the family reputation, correct the children's behavior.Treat stepchildren, daughters-in-law, and granddaughters kindly, dismiss the plan of her youngest son to sell his granddaughter to a wealthy family in exchange for tuition fees, force the youngest son to strive through education on his own, use a stick to awaken the second son from being lazy and spoiled to becoming the family's backbone, and rid the youngest daughter of laziness, greed, and love-brain.Reclaim wasteland and plant crops using modern scientific knowledge, turning saline-alkali land into fertile fields, leading the whole family towards a moderately prosperous life; start a business from street vending, selling steamed buns, pastries, marinated dishes, raising pigs, beekeeping... gradually expanding their commercial territory.

In this world, laws are nothing but chains for the weak.The rich buy innocence. The powerful twist the truth.Justice? It was sold long ago to businessmen and politicians.He was no one. Shy, awkward, powerless. The kind of man people ignored.Until one day… a god descended.The forgotten God of Justice chose him as vessel.Chains of light tore through the darkness, dragging the guilty to their knees.And then, in his mind, glowing words appeared—[Justice Avatar System Activated][Skill Unlocked: Chain of Justice — Binding]Effect: No corrupt soul may escape once bound.From that day on, criminals trembled.The rich cried out. The politicians tried to resist.But when the chains fell, even their power meant nothing.The world called him a monster.The people whispered another name—“The Underworld Judge.”But he only said one thing:“I am the law. I am the verdict. I am justice.”

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.”