Crafting an Immortal Race with Daily Hexagrams - Chapter 258 - 184: Cyan Bamboo Sword Intent Shatters the Immortal Sect (Part 5)

“Legend had it that in the deepest part of the oldest galaxy, there was a door as red as blood and fire.

Legends and myths, darkness and light, countless stories passed through this old door.

The Door of Constellation that overlooked everything would warn the sky and earth, sending darkness back to where it belonged.”

Han Yue Ling, a peerless beauty with a great personality, but she carries a lot of secrets.She loved a man for 10 years, but on the day of her wedding, fate decided to play a cruel joke on her and take the man away.Three years later, she decides to move away.She stumbles upon Lu Tian, the ruthless and cold CEO of Lu Corps. Thinking it was just an accident, she stumbles upon him again and again. Before she knew it, the man is already living with her!Is this an unexpected second chance at love? Will she be able to love again?

“Hubby, I don't want anymore, I feel terrible...” “Baby, be good, finish up this medicine.”The handsome man embraces the woman in his arms, coaxing her tenderly as he feeds her the medicine.Joanna Lawrence stumbles upon Ashton Heath, the most esteemed scion in all of Closia City, and ends up sleeping with him for the night. After he offers her benefits in exchange for their marriage, the newly appointed Mrs Heath suddenly has the power to have everything she ever wished for.“Hubby, I slapped the Movie Queen Faye today, was I too much?”“Baby, does your hand hurt? Let me rub it for you.”“Hubby, I maxed out your credit card, are you angry?”“Baby, are you happy with your purchase? Let me know when you need more.”“Hubby, I'm tired today, I don't want to move...”

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.”