On Hiatus: God's Personal Reasons - Chapter 28: The Strongest Cleaner

Tao Ti was the daughter of Taotie and the mount of War God, who bravely sacrificed herself to save War God. War God collected her soul fragments and sent them into reincarnation.Taotie, a Fierce Beast, feeds on Evil Spirit, resentment, and misfortune.The reincarnated little Tao Ti was switched by a maid and sold to the mountains, where she faced daily struggles of hunger and inadequate clothing.Fortunately, a variety show entered the village and filmed little Tao Ti, causing a sensation in the comments section~【Such a cute human cub, don't block her from the camera, I want to watch!】【The show crew should give her more screen time, poor little thing!】【Isn't she much more beautiful than a female star?】A talent agency quickly came to sign her, but her real elder brother, a big shot, rushed over to take her home!She not only exploded in popularity in the entertainment industry but also became the beloved darling of a wealthy family!

Victoria Monroe worked hard for three years during their hidden marriage to get pregnant, and she finally was, only to discover that he had a child with someone else.She proposed a divorce but was refused, and when she attempted to return to work, she found numerous obstacles.It turned out that this marriage was something he had planned for a long time, using the bond of marriage to cage her, clipping her wings and imprisoning her by his side.Sickly and obsessive, he whispered in her ear, “Victoria, no one else in this world loves you more than I do, don't even think about escaping!”But he was unaware that his beloved wife was already pregnant with his child.On a stormy night, as he rushed towards the child in the mistress's womb, blood soaked beneath Victoria Monroe.Eighteen years of affection were buried here, and she was utterly disheartened, leaving decisively.Later, at the engagement banquet of The Portoros Circle's Crown Prince, he finally found his little rose.Victoria Monroe, dressed in a magnificent gown, stunning beyond compare, was hailed as the Portoros Circle's Crown Prince, who knelt on one knee, reverently and restrainedly kissing the back of her hand.The always noble President Fordham was red-eyed and went mad...

Abigail, a bipolar disorder patient, wrote a crazy BL novel with herself as the main villain. She vented all her negative emotions, killing characters through the villain she created.Alas, she died of a pill overdose before writing the ending.When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by the characters she created in the novel! Ordinary people would be frightened to death, but Abigail, a mental patient of an extreme case, rubbed her hands and decided to torture them all at once! How exciting!Except for one, the evil CEO she had her character marry in her novel. He was her eye candy, despite how rudely he treated her.Her everyday schedule (if she wasn't torturing someone) included: Getting up, seducing her husband in the shower, seducing her husband while eating, seducing her husband while working, seducing her husband everywhere from their home to work, seducing her husband to sleep, and somehow, even seducing him in his dreams!It went on like that until he couldn't hold it anymore.***Asher said frustratedly, “Why didn't the author mention me in the synopsis?! Am I not eligible to be with Abigail?!”Owen added calmly, “You're not alone, my friend. I even entered the scene after 60 chapters.”

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.”