MTL - He’s Not A Non-Entertainment Circle - Chapter 41 Wife

Married for three years without returning home? The charming '70s woman wants a divorce.[Cold and aloof pilot vs. stunning translator, period 1v1, husband-chasing drama]On the first day of their marriage, Jiang Zhixun applied for a transfer to the Northwest, rebelling against his arranged marriage with Shen Qingqing.In the three years that followed, they never saw each other again.When Shen Qingqing was diagnosed with amnesia, she made a decision within half an hour.She decided to go to the Northwest.To find Jiang Zhixun and get a divorce!An exceptional beauty arrived at the barracks, elegant, refined, and well-educated, yet married to a cold-faced tyrant.Jiang Zhixun was convinced Shen Qingqing had come to pester him.He avoided her.Evaded her.Yet, he couldn’t help being drawn to her.Jiang Zhixun decided to keep Shen Qingqing and live a good life with her.But Shen Qingqing proposed a divorce.Jiang Zhixun: “You came to the Northwest just for a divorce?”Shen Qingqing: “Yes, divorce.”After the divorce, Shen Qingqing returned to Beijing.Her memories of the time in the Northwest gradually faded, until eventually, she even forgot who Jiang Zhixun was.On a snowy, stormy night, the man stubbornly stood outside the door, his eyes tinged with crimson.“Mister Shen, I’m your new neighbor.”“My name is Jiang Zhixun.”

“Why is it that everyone has hated you since you were little?”“Why do you always manage to explode with power when you’re in dire straits?”“Why, despite having no weak chakra control, can’t you even walk on water?”Kurama (Nine-Tails) looked up and laughed heartily: “There’s only one answer—”“You are! The one who nearly destroyed Konoha and killed the Fourth Hokage twelve years ago! The Jinchuriki of the strongest tailed beast, the Nine-Tails Kurama! Hahahahahaha!”

Mu Zhi’an transmigrated into a world of immortals and became a supporting character destined to be a stepping stone for the protagonist. He originally wanted to befriend those heaven-chosen protagonists, but when Mu Zhi’an turned around, he discovered that the girls surrounding him were either the protagonist’s childhood sweethearts or fiancées.Most inconceivably, those girls who should have liked the protagonist all fell for Mu Zhi’an, this supporting character. Looking at the heavenly beauties beside him, one after another, Mu Zhi’an had a bold idea. He resolved to get rid of the protagonist and turn the tables to become the master himself.After finally defeating several protagonists with great difficulty and obtaining a large amount of resources, in order to enhance the girls’ strength, he shared the abundant resources with the girls around him. He originally thought that with the enjoyment of so many resources, he would surely be able to prove the Dao and become an emperor in the future, transforming and ascending as an immortal. Until one day, looking at the rolling tribulation clouds in the sky and the several empress characters reborn in the lightning tribulation, Mu Zhi’an’s eyes gradually lost their luster as he muttered, “I’m so foolish, really… I thought that after getting rid of those heaven-chosen sons, I would be the new protagonist of the world and become a powerful immortal in the future. But I never thought… it turns out they were the real protagonists all along.”

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.”