City of Desire - Chapter 697: Truth

Lu Lingxi died.

As a child born by his parents through precise genetic matching, for eighteen years of his life, he lived entirely for his brother, who had leukaemia. He was his brother’s shadow, a “medicine reserve bank” for his brother’s treatment needs.

Umbilical cord blood, stem cells, bone marrow… whenever his brother needed it, he would have no choice but to quietly lie on the operating table.

Until the last time, when his brother needed a kidney and he never came off the operating table.

When he opened his eyes again, Lu Lingxi became a teenager with the same name Lu Lingxi.

Freed from the shackles of his fate, he possesses the mysterious ability to communicate with plants.

Raising flowers, gardening and running a farm, Lu Lingxi begins a very different life!

“Dane?” “Yeah, the bastard whose head I smashed with a fire extinguisher.” Grayson Miller, whose life goal is to meet his destined partner just like his Papa and Daddy who gave birth to him. However, even after dating countless people, he hasn’t found the right one. Desperate, he even sought out a renowned shaman, who told him that his destined partner was someone connected to ‘fire’ and has ‘big breasts’. Doubtful, but still pondering how to make the connection, he attends a pheromone party where a sudden fire breaks out. While toying with the omegas and spreading his pheromones left and right, he suddenly lost consciousness after having his pheromones controlled by a certain Extreme Omega. After waking up, Grayson realize that his destined partner might be working at the fire station, and with his father’s help, he gets a job there through connections. However, from the very first day, he gets into a physical fight with the firefighters who were keeping him in check, and among them, he also gets particularly entangled with that Dane Striker bastard…….

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.”