MTL - The Little Merman - Chapter 33

He was an extremely wealthy CEO. His hobbies were clinging to his wife and pampering her to the extreme.One day, the bodyguard reported, “Sir, Madam went to chase her ex-fiancé!”“Sir, Madam confessed her love for her ex-fiancé on a global livestream!”“Change the photos and names to mine!”“Sir, Madam went to the hospital to have an abortion!”The incredibly handsome and wealthy man couldn't contain his anger.“Bring Madam back to me, and take good care of her! No, stop! I'm going to get her myself!”After marriage, Su Fu glared at her possessive husband.“Let's divorce; this life is unbearable!”Shangguan Ling smirked.“So what if it's unbearable? Whoever leaves, loses! I'll give you the property, our child, and myself! Wherever you go, I'll go too!”

Before her rebirth, Song Ran lived a lone and miserable life. Her innocence and naiveness cost her fortune. Her family assets was wasted by the stepmother, and her man stolen by her very best friend. After she was reborn, having the scales fallen from her eyes, Song Ran learned from her mistakes. The first thing she needed to do was ride on the coattail of her man with a promissing future, Mr. Gu.

Guang Xiaoyu always thought her senior brother was a dispirited ordinary person, until one day, his pet cow crushed an entire group of Divine Kings with a single stomp.The black dog opened its mouth and expelled a Sword Qi, blocking millions of the Demon Race.The Earth Chicken that babbled every day turned out to be a descendant of the Ancient Phoenix!Ahhhh!Her worldview collapsed!Zi Ji: “Senior sister, it's terrible! The Demon Emperor is leading an army of millions from the Demon Race towards us.”Guang Xiaoyu: “Senior brother, help!”(This is a story about the Demon Emperor’s rebirth, the Netherworld’s daughter’s reincarnation, the protagonist's pet-keeping journey, and a call to everyone to love and care for small animals!)

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.”