The Young Master’s Bride - Chapter 1612 - : - won’t let you down for the rest of my life

The tens of thousands of universes have merged. The disintegration of spiritual force led to the momentous collapse of the great Cultivation World, a mighty era that had endured through millions of years of history. In the wake of the large-scale invasion of the Wilderness, the Avalon of Five Elements has become the practitioners’ last stand.

Hello, I'd like to ask your opinion on “Yukima Azuma”Kasumigaoka Utaha: I was here before... I taught him the things that couples do, but he used them to please other girlsSawamura Eriri: It would be better if I wasn't a tsundere, saying one thing and doing anotherYukinoshita Yukino: He's the light in my life, I might not have been able to bear the darkness if I hadn't met himYukinoshita Haruno: The bastard who ran away after sleeping with meHoshino Ai: My only true love, my white moonlightWhat's your relationship with him - ex-girlfriendSora Ginko: Oh, just a thieving catKato Megumi: Just a thieving catSagiri, Bocchi, Shinomiya Kaguya, Kirisu Mafuyu, Suou Yuki, Alya: A thieving cat!--------------------------------I do not own anything in this fanfiction----------------------------------The schedule is from Monday to Saturday 2 chapters a day and 1 on Sunday----------------------------------------English is TOTALLY NOT my language,So it's probably not very good, but I tried my best

It’s the vacation of a lifetime, a trip to a remote island filled with geniuses and murder.

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.”