I Woke Up Piloting the Strongest Starship, so I Became a Space Mercenary - Chapter 551 「I’ll Do My Best. Within Reason.」

“When everyone scorned me because I was merely a woman, I kept convincing myself: ‘Actually, you can give it a try.’” – Fang Feng Sheng

…

There was a famous saying in officialdom: there is no yamen without Shaoxing.

She was the only descendant of the Fang family, the most prominent family of private advisors in Shaoxing.

A calamity broke the Fang family apart. Her father was implicated and put to death, and she cut her way through thistles and thorns to prove her name.

However, walking down this path, she discovered that there were things beyond her imagination.

~ ~

Zong Yue knows that he could marry Fang Feng Sheng because he had blocked all her paths of retreat. But it doesn’t matter—one day, the person will become his, and so will her heart.

- Description from Novelupdates

In the vampire-ruled kingdom of Mildelar, the Blood Games stand as the ultimate form of entertainment—savage battles between familiars, humans bound to their vampire masters through blood pacts. Far more than mere spectacles, these brutal fights determine the prestige of noble families, shaping their power and influence across the realm. Lyon, a young human saved from death by a blood pact with the alluring Arya Valakys—one of the king’s daughters—is unwillingly thrust into this cruel world. Bound to his mistress, he is forced into relentless battles to elevate her standing.Lyon, however, stands apart from other familiars. While they derive their strength from the fear of punishment, he draws his... from having dirty thoughts about his mistress!

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.”