His Contractual Mistress - Chapter 343 - The Photos Four Years Ago

The young Xiao Yi bore a mysterious seal within him, yet due to his father and siblings’ injustice, he was sent to the remote Nanhuang and became a son-in-law to the Fang Family. On his wedding day, the seal inside Xiao Yi was unlocked, and from then on, he controlled the Eternal Celestial Tomb! Many of the strongest beings from all the heavens and worlds were buried within the Celestial Tomb, and Xiao Yi, who now commanded the tomb, began his life’s journey of gaining strength through grave-robbing! “You think you’re a martial arts genius? Let me dig up a Martial God’s grave and we’ll see!”“You consider yourself an alchemy expert? I’ll dig up a Medicine Saint’s grave and then we’ll talk!”“You’re the son of a divine emperor? I’ve got plenty of divine emperor graves here!”“You’re the number one scoundrel in the world? ... You win, I’m out!”

Suddenly being able to travel to various familiar worlds, to grow and develop in these various high-risk worlds, you need to follow the following guidelines:

1: If you want to get rich, don’t be afraid of death. If you are afraid of death, you can only eat other people’s leftovers.

2: Don’t always try to save the world, it will be bad luck to be a Virgin in other planes.

3: Don’t let go of good things, maybe you will lose a great opportunity because of this.

4: Don’t wantonly flood your feelings, you can only bring back sadness if you can’t take away the girl.

……

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”

Imagination is always pleasant, but reality is cruel. I just wanted a simple life but why am I always getting into trouble?