Urban Seduction: Housewives Club - Chapter 766 - Lu Feng’s Lackeys

A part-time job contract. He became the cold CEO’s imitation boyfriend. He merely wanted to earn a few small bucks and live a comfortable life, but a pity, he was in constant turmoil since then. Well, life had something else for him despite his wishes.“That… beauty, will there be an increase in wages for conversion from ‘boyfriend’ to ‘husband’?”

- Description from Novelupdates

He has won some games, lost some games, but it always entertained him and made him happy. However, one day when DOTA is linked to his life, Zhao Dingguo couldn’t be calm anymore. Because in his PC, there was an unexpected DOTA battle platform!

If he lost a game on the platform, he could be obliterated!

However, when Zhao Dingguo was careful and triumphant, he found that the magical rewards he received were actually brought to reality. Whether it’s skills, equipment or bloodline, as long as he has survived a brutal Death Match, everything is possible! After many difficult battles, Zhao Dingguo finally could walk calmly on the narrow path between victory and obliteration. His unchanging pursuit is the victory!

- Description from Novelupdates

He is the master of six kingdoms. As long as he wanted, his cavalry is ready to wipe off any country.

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.”