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... his nose, she knew that her instinct was right. Something had happened.

"We need to go now, Dawn." Pyro grabbed her hand, but Dawn swatted his hand and then walked out of the tent.

This was ridiculous to keep her in the dark when she could help them. It would make things easier and faster to deal with the situation, instead of coddling her.

"What is it, Collin? Something happened?" Dawn asked one of the warriors that she knew.

"Oh, luna? You are here?" Collin imme ...

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Leng Rongrong is the eldest daughter of the Leng Family, yet she is abandoned to the countryside when she’s little. As she reaches a certain age, her father and his stepmother trick her into returingn home just to marry her to Mo Linyuan, the Fourth Master of the Mo Family who is supposed to be crippled, poor and ugly.

When Leng Rongrong marries Mo Linyuan, she finds that Mo Linyuan is actually a very handsome man seated in a wheelchair. So she decides to take good care of him by becoming an actress to support the family. However, Mo Linyuan is simply pretending to be crippled for the moment, because he is investigating some peculiar affairs happening to his family. Yet as he spends time with Leng Rongrong, he finds her quite interesting and fun, and gradually develops feelings towards her.

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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.”

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“Ah! Fate is unfathomable like that. Never would anyone be able to guess that such an ordinary encounter could lead to such an extraordinary future. Although our encounter that day contributed to a resplendent future, I sometimes find myself reminiscing about ordinary days. If time could be rewound, would I choose to step foot into that tavern where we met… Ah, no! Even if that tavern had not existed, we would definitely have met anyway, because our encounter was indispensable fate!”

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