The Creatures That We Are - Chapter 620: Special My Ass

“Rada,” a 23-year-old woman, suddenly died from a chronic illness, and her soul was sent into the body of a 5-year-old girl.In the village of Shen Lin, Rada, now reborn in the body of “Tang Xiaolin,” quickly adapted and set her mind on improving her family's life.Using the knowledge from her previous life, she helped her family gather food from the forest, plant crops, and taught them how to use various herbs they were unfamiliar with!Xiaolin discovered valuable red Lingzhi mushrooms and sold them in the city, earning a substantial amount of money. The Tang family began to continuously improve their lives, with little Xiaolin guiding and assisting them in every way.My family will be filled with happiness and wealth in the end! Little Xiaolin will become a millionaire and live a prosperous life ~

For ten thousand years, the invincible Emperor Xu Lai, descends to the Earth and takes on the role of a stay-at-home dad.Anyone who dares to bully his daughter would face his wrath!Xu Lai asked, “My dear daughter, when you look up, what do you see?”“Nighttime, the stars.”“That's not just the stars, it's the empire I've built for you. In the future, you'll rule over billions of galaxies, you'll be the Empress of the Immortal Realm!”“Dad, you're bragging again. You can't even give me a little brother or sister,” Xu Yiyi pouted.“...”

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.”