The Heiress Carrying His Heir - Chapter 82 - 83: the weight of knowing

She is the legend of the Heavenly Soul Alliance, the king of mercenaries with a perverse personality, the world’s number one head reward, she closed her eyes unwillingly in a conspiracy, but opened her eyes in the mountain of corpses in another world, when he met her , he knew at a glance that she was the love disaster of his life, he was unwilling to resolve it, and held her in the palm of his hand, and accidentally spoiled her to the sky, shocking the three worlds.

“Your Majesty, it’s too bad. Your Majesty led tens of thousands of soldiers to level the Shuize Empire and smashed the dragon’s Nilin one by one!”

Without raising his head, a certain person said two words softly, “Follow her!”

“Your Majesty, it’s not good again. The empress is too handsome in a golden armored uniform, and she was thrown down by the goddess of Luoshui as a man!”

A certain person with a face full of black lines, gritted his teeth, flew out, grabbed the goddess and threw it back, half-fading the golden armor, hugged the lazy and handsome boy tightly in his arms, and said with a gloomy face, “See clearly before rushing, She’s a woman!”

The Goddess spoke weakly, “I don’t mind her gender, I love her for who she is!”

Someone was murderous, “I don’t mind, she is my woman!”

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”

How good would it be to live in a game world you loved the most… right after your death?Well, that’s exactly what happened to César in the worst way possible.While fighting cancer on his deathbed, he played a game where he could live as a cartel member, part of the mafia, building his own empire and climbing to the top. But when the time came and he died… he woke up in that exact game.He woke up in Sandria, a world ruled by power, money, and death.