My Dungeon Life: Rise of the Slave Harem - Chapter 696

Cheng Ling, the descendant of modern martial arts, traveled to the ancient times of war, and took his family to escape from the famine, farming, practicing medicine, and doing business…

Working hard for tomorrow, only to get a place to live in this strange era after the world is stable, to stand up with dignity, instead of kneeling and begging for life.

But who knew that disguising as a man was so successful that the new dynasty left her good name everywhere.

Young Master Hou’s Mansion: Young Master Cheng is very talented, and what he said casually was the rule of the world. I must recommend him to the prince.

Guozijian sacrifice wine: Cheng Xiaoyou has a splendid beauty in his chest, and the day when the imperial examination resumes, it must be the time when he will become famous. If he can’t win the top spot, the old man will slam into a pillar to tell the sky.

Miss Xiangfu: Cheng Shenyi is a prodigy, but he has a noble character and is not interested in fame and fortune. I respect him and love him, even if I have no relationship with him, I should ask the prince’s cousin to give him a birth.

Ten Miles of Spring Breeze Hua Kui Lady: Except for the three feet of snow on your body, who in the world is matched with white clothes? In that court, were they okay with you?

With a sigh, only remote mail.

…

And the prince, who was always mentioned in passing, intentionally or unintentionally, had already quietly raised his chin.

Prince: My brother, my confidant, what do you say?

Cheng Ling:  …

- Description from novelbuddy

President Forrest raised Zinnia Lawrence, catering to her every need. Zinnia believed that was love. It took two years of marriage for her to realize she was merely his best-kept pet, while she saw him as her entire world.His first love returned, and Zinnia resolutely asked for a divorce. He scoffed, “Can a cat trained from young leave its master? You can't run.”Zinnia ran away and never looked back, receiving proposals daily on her path to beauty.Jenson Forrest went crazy.“Mrs. Forrest! Be good, look at me once more.” He cornered her, his dark eyes filled with intense affection.She smiled gently, “People and dogs are on different paths. Step aside, don't block my romances.”The man held her waist, eyes reddening at the corners, “For the next 365 days, I've reserved the proposal spot. Zinnia, marry me again!”

Due to an accident, she saved the empire's big shot, who insisted on marrying her as a token of gratitude.The crowd mocked: Can a country bumpkin like her be worthy of Young Master Knight?What? Rustic, ugly, and useless? She turns it around with a shocking beauty and countless hidden identities gradually revealed.Summer Monroe returned home with a hidden identity, only to uncover the truth behind her mother's death.As each of her identities was unveiled, the crowd was shocked to realize: the big shot's wife is the true big shot!

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.”