My Wife Is A Ghost Exorciser - Chapter 1409: Fingers that itched to rip

“The new book 'Scolded as the Star of Death, All the Big Shots in the Capital Rush to Spoil Me' is now available!”Also known as “Reborn Era: Getting Rich with the Check-In System.”[A physical powerhouse of a female lead vs. a vindictive, sarcastic, and elegant male protagonist]After a laboratory explosion, Lin Tang returns to that impoverished era and is bound to a check-in system.Before she has time to claim the newcomer gift pack, her fiancé, sporting an air of confidence, comes to break off the betrothal.The reason being, he's about to secure a stable job.Lin Tang looks at the ordinary yet self-assured man, parted her red lips slightly and said, “...break it off!”Less than a month later, her ex-fiancé was fired for some reason.Lin Tang took a stroll around the county and became the executive officer of the Broadcasting Station in the Textile Factory.Ex-fiancé's internal OS: Is it too late to reconcile now?Those times were tough!Despite being treasured by her three big brothers and parents, everything from food to cloth and even soap required coupons...Even living frugally couldn't alleviate the miserable condition.Looking at the black mush in the bowl, Lin Tang fell silent, “......”Thankfully, she had a system!Need anything? Just check in to get it.Many years later.A handsome man looked at his delicate wife with a fair complexion, managing to keep a straight face as he said, “I heard you could knock out a wild boar with just two punches?”Lin Tang's eyes sparkled, her fingers gently exerting force, and the Enamel Jar in her hand deformed. She responded in a stern manner, “Nonsense! Don't believe those rumors. We're civilized people and can't be that barbaric!”

This is a story of crime, scandal, and romance.

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.”

Instead of causing chaos with my knowledge of the original work, I assisted the protagonist.

I successfully completed the story and now planned to retire and live peacefully.

However, it seems the protagonist still needs my help.

An academy professor? That’s nothing much.

But why is the state of the academy so strange?”