Medical Sovereign - Chapter 489 - Shengzeyuan

The new book has been opened “After Rebirth, Your Majesty, She Was Slightly Irritable”

full level gangster reborn female honor

The dilapidated thatched hut is poor and destitute, plus the acrimonious and mischievous father who regards money as his life…

It’s really not an ordinary bad heart…

fortunately! The caring, gentle and virtuous little husband is not bad!

- Description from novelbuddy

When a glowing portal yanks Leo from his struggling existence, he is saved by a mysterious system which gifts him new chance to break free from his side character experienceRebuilding an abandoned guild to honor his family’s legacy, Leo finds himself under the evil eyes of monsters, both from humanity and the gates he ventures intoin short : overpowered necromancer building a guild.

Su Ran, a music prodigy, woke up transmigrated into a book.

At that point in time, the main story arc in the book had already been completed. As a villainess female supporting character, not only did she need to take over the original owner’s pitiful life in poverty, she also gained an instant son right at his rebellious period.

Ten or so more years from then, the son would turn into a twisted, evil villain. He would appear in one of the extra chapters to pick on the male and female lead’s children.

***

Su Ran: Son, you shouldn’t be too outstanding.
Su Han: Why not?
Su Ran: ’cause you will be killed.

Su Ran: Son, would you like to learn music from me and become a zen, little fairy boy who only needs to drink dew.
Su Han: No, I want to go into business so I can support you.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”