My Daughters Are Regressors - Chapter 70: Finding A Place Is Hard! (10)

A petite and frail woman came to Donggong, and Chumei in Donggong didn’t take this abandoned woman seriously at first.

Who would have thought that she would occasionally feel the cold today, and she would be ill tomorrow, attracting His Royal Highness to take care of her day and night.

She took care of her, and took care of people on the couch, so angry that Zhongmei called her a shameless white lotus.

As the party concerned, Qin Zhao said: My ex-husband greened me, I turned around and hooked up with the prince of the dynasty, and robbed the prospective man of the third child. The first marriage is higher than the first marriage, is there any problem?

**

The crown prince Xiao Ce had few desires for half his life until he met Qin Zhao.

He thought Qin Zhao was pitiful and would not be able to live without him, so he let her live in the East Palace temporarily, day and night to keep her pampered.

Later, when he ascended the throne, every time he saw Qin Zhao’s ex-husband’s face, he would torture Qin Zhao’s soul every night: “Is my body still satisfactory to Zhaozhao?”

【Wear the book, double clean, sweet pet】

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Shen Tang woke up on the way to distribution, and found that the world was very unscientific.

The divine stone descended from the sky, and a hundred kingdoms competed for each other.

Wen condenses the heart, and the export comes true.

Gathering martial arts and courage, splitting mountains and breaking seas.

What she thought was a pretty boy, saying “Hold the gun and jump the horse”, the next second the armor is attached to the body, the spear is in hand, and one person forms an army, and thousands of troops can kill seven in and seven out!

The tuberculosis ghost in her eyes, she said “the stars are scattered all over the world”, the sky is like a round cover, the land is like a chess game, and the formation of troops is easy to come by!

This TM can’t be considered unscientific!

It is clear that the coffin of science has been nailed to death by theology!

And she—

“My lord, there is a severe drought in Beijun, why don’t you cry?”

Shen Tang: “…”

“My lord, Nanzhou flood, why don’t you smile more?”

Shen Tang: “…”

———————

Looking at the ten bowls of rice that she killed, the pockets that were cleaner than her face, and a group of villagers who were starving for food, harboring malicious intentions and causing trouble all day long, Shen Tang, the village chief who was suspected of being the reincarnation of the rice bucket and a true soul painter, had to give up his beloved He was forced to embark on the road of applying for a job as a prince.

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Xia Changge is a timid and honest cultivator who has practiced for thirty years without even killing a chicken.

His ordinary life changed after he was killed because his fellow Daoist next door went out to seek opportunities, and begged Xia Changge to help take care of his wife and daughter…

Longevity flow, independent family flow.

- 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.”