The Regressors are Trying to Kill Me - Chapter 33

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.”

I was a blind massage therapist, and I had come to the big city to work with Aunt Wu and Wang Xiru, but they always thought I was completely blind, often doing embarrassing things in front of me, even making some inappropriate demands...One, a charming mature woman, the other, a cool and aloof lady, every night I was tormented by them, unable to sleep...

This is a story about a graduate student of ancient Chinese who was repeatedly trampled on the road to employment, and returned to the middle of the Ming Dynasty and entered the body of a young child in a mountain village. There are many disputes in the farmyard With a dull father, a fierce mother, and a group of extremely bad relatives. Fortunately, we have thousands of years of historical accumulation, the Four Books and Five Classics, and the Eight-part Essays, and the majors are also suitable. Who says that it is difficult for a poor family to produce a noble son? The national strength has risen, and the rule of law has been relaxed; the law and discipline are lax, and the official discipline is lazy; there are a few treacherous ministers, and there are also some Japanese pirates; but overall, it can be said that this is a fertile ground for the free growth of scholars and officials. A legend of the rise of a poor family also grew from here