Return of the Mythic Bloodline - Chapter 58: The Forgotten Past part 12

I created a game character.Instead of taking several perks, I added restrictions.▶Restriction (I): “Curse of Sensory Seal”─Permanently seals a chosen sense.─Choice: Sight, Taste, Smell▶Restriction (II): “Curse of Short Life”─You are born with a body doomed to a short life.▶Restriction (III): “Curse of Silence”─Speaking causes you pain.When the next day came, I couldn’t see anything.

Joey picked up a random man at the matchmaking center and got married.

He paid back the mortgage with a bitter laugh, ate at the roadside stalls, and sold on the ground.

One day.

Colleague A was shocked: Your diamond ring is worth at least two million!

Colleagues B is crazy: Your dress is set to be super trenches!Countless renowned golden women wailed: CEO Lu gave up the throne to accompany a Cinderella to experience the lives of commoners.

What kind of weird hobbies are these?

After knowing the truth, Qiao Yi was furious: Lu Jingyun, I want to divorce you!

The man hugged her and coaxed in a low voice, Darling, don't make a fuss.

Anger can affect the baby in your belly.

This novel is also known as Mr. Mayor Please Be Kind

She is an old spinster of average status. He is young and powerful, achieving status as a high ranking official of River City within a span of just a few years. She had a deep love, but being unable to endure the harsh reality of life, she left. He had also loved once before, but he had been suffered betrayal from his girlfriend and friends, he delayed his marriage.

Having exchanged a few coincidental glances with him, she mistakenly assumed him to be her blind date, and without asking any other questions, she directly inquired him: “Do you want to come with me to get a card (marriage book)?”

He recognized this woman, and holding her with a feeling that was neither love nor hate, pleasure replacing surprise, he nodded: “I’m free in the afternoon!” He had not corrected her.

As per martial business, she offered him an agreement, calmly stating: She will agree to roll the bed sheet once a week! He quietly raised an eyebrow, mouth half-smiling, and flamboyantly signed his name. So because of this agreement…

“Wife, it’s late, let’s get some rest,” the man stated. The woman looked in to his eyes, nodded, and turned off the bedside lamp. In the darkness, a pair of large hands probed into her clothes, caressing her skin like satin. It was a beautiful night.

On the second night: “Wife, it’s late, let’s get some rest, ” the man stated. The woman looked in to his eyes, nodded, turned off the bedside lamp and lay down to sleep. His dark, large hand reached up to her again and slid into her clothes, probing her smooth skin until it was then suddenly caught.

“What are you doing? ” the woman asked coldly.

”There is a marital agreement to fulfill! ” the man said, take it for granted, and then pressed on top of the woman. It was a spectacular night.

The next morning, the woman who was brimming with an aching waist and grief, came out from the study room with eyes wide open, angrily said: “Su Yicheng, you crafty Official!”

The agreement read: marriage, rest once a week!

Love after marriage, warm and spoiled.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”