Sweet Rustic Love: Four Brothers’ Wife - Chapter 38 - Foolish Piety

Beneath the daily routine, at the end of rationality, outside the world you are familiar with – there is a landscape you have never imagined.When Yu Sheng opened the door for the first time, the world he was familiar with collapsed.And the “truth” that goes straight to the root of the world came to him.

Both mortals and cultivators are afraid of death, yet Jiang Cheng isn't. With the Undefeated System, he could benefit from each of his deaths and comes back to life every time.“Ding, detected that the host is dead, the Undefeated System is officially activated.”“The host gains a hundred million lives, and once killed in the future, will be resurrected in full health within 30 seconds.”“In the midst of life and death, there is great opportunity, after resurrection, the host will surely defeat the opponent...”

There’s nothing that Yu Wan has in common with her new neighbor– whether it’s charisma, personality, or cooking skills– other than that they both own dogs. Their two cute pets get along well (a bit far too well) and start what seems like a rocky friendship between the two; however, Yu Wan has more important things to worry about. Her wildly popular novel is about to take off into a drama adaptation, but the handsome, mysterious, and callous neighbor- is the director?!

Shen Qingzhou (as he thinks of someone): I’d say three. ]

- 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.”