The CEO Is the Daddy to Triplets - Chapter 6

Haruma Kazuki is a cursed (or maybe just deeply unfortunate) high school student whose lewd, panicked, or absurd thoughts literally manifest in reality — especially when he tries not to think about them. The more he denies or avoids feelings, the more chaotic and trope-heavy the consequences.

Wang Tianxiao was reborn thirty years ago, the day before the eldest son was born.

It was more than 20 degrees below zero, and the wife shivered on the cold kang with her big belly and three-year-old daughter in her arms.

In the pot, there was no firewood to be seen, and the bottom of the water tank was solidly frozen.

What a difficult start.

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- Description from novelbuddy

Mu Wanwan transmigrated into a novel.

And became a cannon fodder side character used to counteract the disabled tyrant’s ill fortune.

The tyrant is a huge villain. He challenged the leader of the seven tribes alone and had been beaten into a vegetative state.

The original character lived in the tyrant’s territory. Her parents, who were greedy for power, randomly made came up with compatible bazi* and sent their daughter into the tyrant’s manor, turning her into a wife to ward off ill luck.

Also sent off together with her was a little white flower maidservant, who was the heroine of the story.

The original character and the heroine agreed to escape together—but the original character was stabbed to death that very night.

And just as they were about to implement their escape plan, she transmigrated over

Mu Wanwan: “…”

What a horrible script!!

In order to live, she had to do her best to take care of the disabled, comatose dragon. Three years later, she actually turned the tragic story into a sickeningly sweet love story.

Note: *bazi: A Chinese astrological concept that a person’s destiny or fate can be divined by the two sexagenary cycle characters assigned to their birth year, month, day, and hour.

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.”