Otaku Witch - Chapter 1766 - 917: Aloof or Not_2

Le Yao became the cannon fodder female supporting role in Wenli, the president of the dog blood. Holding the principle of cherishing life, she signed the divorce slyly and then went away.

Le Yao, who was far away, began to let go of herself.

Returning to the campus to fight for strength, she became the most beautiful student god;

She was unhappy with the live broadcast of cooking and cooking, and she became the most popular chef…

Even teaching the square dance aunt to twist her hips, she became the most sassy dance god.

Le Yao:  …

It seems to be flying a little faster by accident.

Nangong Jue: It’s okay, no matter how fast I fly, I can’t fly out of my palm.

A group of bigwigs who want to hug and kiss Le Yao:…

Le Yao:  …

- Description from novelbuddy

Yu Zhi, a senior salted fish in the world of cultivation, transmigrated into the outer room of the third son of Marquis Wu’an in the Daqing Dynasty. This girl was fair and beautiful, with a delicate body and a soft body. She was presented by a local official when the third son went out to investigate a case.

After Yu Zhi figured out his own situation, his mentality was very stable. The outside room is the outside room, with food and housing included, high salary, low requirements, good-looking boss, good figure, generous hand, where can I find such a good job?

Yu Zhi, this salted fish, was flying in the waves in Daqing.

Keeping on, the boss looked at her with increasingly hot eyes.

Keeping on, the boss insisted on marrying her as the boss’s wife despite the family’s opposition.

No! A marriage with the wrong family has no future, and an office romance is a no-brainer. She just wants to be a low-level employee, not a high-ranking employee.

But facing the boss’s temptation, Yu Zhi touched his chin, tempted! Otherwise, change the map and continue to hang on?

With a thunderbolt from the blue sky, the young minister of Dali Temple and the third son of Marquis of Wu’an’s mansion were actually bewitched by a small concubine from a lowly background, and insisted on marrying her as his wife.

On the day of the wedding, Jing Chengfang’s heart was broken.

Qi Dafei, no one believes that an outer room can secure the seat of the third wife Wen, and everyone sits and waits for Yu Zhi to be divorced

But a year or two passed, not only did Yu Zhi not get divorced, but she was even spoiled by her husband more and more coquettishly

Three years and five years have passed, and Yu Zhi still hasn’t been divorced. She has both children and is held in the palm of her husband’s hand

She has become the most envied woman in the whole capital!

No one knew that Yu Zhi was the woman that Wen Jiuxiao had married with all his might. He didn’t love this world, but for her, he was willing to treat the world kindly.

- Description from novelbuddy

Heaven and Earth serve as the guesthouse for all living things, with Time being the sojourner since time immemorial.

As with the difference between dreaming and awakening, the distinction between life and death is diverse and confused, and changing.

What awaits us beyond time, once we have transcended life and death, heaven and earth?

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.”