Rebirth of a Nation’s Darling – Prince Charming - Chapter 611 - : Don’t underestimate your own charm (1)

On June 6th of the fifth year of the Great Wilderness, it was the fifth year since Yang Xu came to the ancient wilderness, he established the Daxu Kingdom in the wilderness and proclaimed himself king.

The country has one city, three towns, and nine thousand people.

Among the people are the fox clan in Qingqiu, the mermaid people in the East China Sea, and the blue bird clan.

The fox family is good at illusion, the mermaid can control the water, and the blue bird soars nine days.

Not long after the founding of the country, the Yuren found a lifeboat in the northwest waters of the Daxu Kingdom, and captured six human races, talking to themselves as American federalists.

Yang Xu:? ? ?

Come on, I have already established a country, you said that I am still on the earth and have not traveled through time?

- Description from novelbuddy

It is the day of her long-awaited debutante at the age of 15.

Marshallie Gracis, a Viscount’s daughter, witnesses her own fiancé kneeling before another woman and begging for her love.

She was saddened by the unexpected scene of the affair, but her fiancé offered no excuse or apology. She thought the engagement would be broken off, but it wasn’t even that, and the next thing she knew, 10 years had passed without her being married…

25-year-old Marsha had given up on the idea of getting married to become the queen’s maid of honor.

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“Junior Brother Qin, do you want a wife or not?” A well-meaning senior martial brother of Qin Changqing's brought a wife to him, and Qin Changqing had no reason to refuse.

Qin Changqing unexpectedly arrived in this world, diligently cultivated for thirty years, yet still remained useless. Well, he decided to give up his cultivation, get married, and have children. That would be great!

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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.”