Previous chapter: Chapter 64
Next chapter: Chapter 66
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... d, and blood overflowed from the throat after a painful voice.

“U, urgh, gaaahhh!!”

The high ogre tasted and swallowed the chewed meat. The crunchy fresh flesh with mana, overflowing fresh blood, and screams stimulated the appetite and atrocity of the high ogre.

The high ogre broke open the ribs while enjoying the elasticity of the internal organs in the mouth. Then the heart was torn off and swallowed.

Feeling thirsty, the high ogre tore off the limbs and drank blood. Ha ...

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Other people’s bad reputation, if not because of themselves, then it’s slandered by others. Jing Wan’s bad reputation wasn’t because of herself, but schemed by her future husband. Hong Yuan’s bad reputation wasn’t caused by others, but of his own design, only for the sake of marrying the woman he has had eyes on for two lifetimes! One unable to take a bride, one unable to marry. Because he was the number one handsomest man, but she wasn’t the number one beauty. So it was still her who has earned? What the hell?

After marrying, the husband’s close beautiful servant girls didn’t try to crawl onto the bed, but instead served her like an ancestor. The previous stewards didn’t monopolize the power, but instead handed over in great detail all the properties and even the husband’s private funds. So strange no matter how one looks at it! After getting along day and night, she discovered that her husband suffers from a severe case of crazy, please cure!

“Husband, just what do you like about me? I’ll change, just please stop being weird.”

His disease acting up in seconds, telling you with his actions, just how strong his possessive desires towards you are, that’s how much care you must give back.

Alright, for the sake of his disease not becoming more severe, and seeing how there’s no little three or little four and other little demons, Jing Wan rolled up her up sleeves and went all out.

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The Cheng family finally found the real daughter who had been wandering the streets. Cheng Ling, the fake daughter who had been wrongly adopted for eighteen years, instantly became the family’s joke.

The real heiress was very domineering and the fake heiress was soon despised by the family.

Many people were waiting to see the fake daughter make a fool of herself, but they realized…

The world’s top medical expert: “May I know where Miss Cheng Ling, who was kicked out of the house, is? I begged her for a long time and she finally agreed to give me a chance to meet her.”

International idol Best Actor Tang: “Miss Cheng Ling, can you sell me another grape? Just one will do. After eating your grape, my voice is getting much more beautiful.”

The famous godfather of the Mafia said, “Miss Cheng Ling, can you sell me one of your cucumbers? I was seriously injured in my early years and it’s hard for me to recover. Only your cucumbers can save me.”

Soon, everyone realized that almost all the rich and powerful families in the world had a favor to ask of the fake daughter, Cheng Ling. As long as she said a word, those rich and powerful people would be willing to do anything for her.

That was because Cheng Ling had a piece of divine soil in her hands. The fruits of vegetables grown from divine soil had all kinds of magical and powerful effects.

Third Master Qin, who was feared by all the aristocrats in the world and was rumored to be extremely cold and ruthless, pretended to be pitiful in front of Cheng Ling. “Ling Ling, my chest hurts. Come, come, come. Stay here tonight. When I take off my clothes, you can take a good look at me…”

Cheng Ling: “Stay away from me, don’t get in the way of my farming.”

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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.”