Super Spender - Chapter 509 - 503: Strengthening Power

If you just stay still, you’ll get to the middle.If you try to show off how good you are at work, the tasks will only increase.By the time I realized that the absolute rule of the military also applied to the position of the crown prince, it was already too late.

Imagination is always pleasant, but reality is cruel. I just wanted a simple life but why am I always getting into trouble?

After three years of hidden marriage, she has always been well-behaved and obedient, and she never made a fuss when she saw him having an affair with others.

On the day he Bai Yueguang returned to China, she silently handed over a divorce agreement.

He asked in a cold voice, “Why, do you have someone you like?”

She smiled lightly: “Yes, if you don’t admit that I am your wife, someone will always admit that I am his lover.”

Later, she was recognized by the Xie family and became the daughter of the Xie family that even he could not afford.

Seeing her doing well among men, Gu Jinmo realized that the love roots she had planted in his heart during those three years had already grown into towering trees, imprisoning him for the rest of his life.

- 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.”