The Fisherman Who Never Catches Fish - Chapter 36 - 35: Million-level Popularity!

For better or for worse, till death do us part. That was their vows at the altar, but he broke them first..He claims an open marriage is the solution to their childless marriage and that it's to protect her own interests. But all Braelyn sees is a prison built from guilt and lies.One heartbroken night, she stumbles into a karaoke bar and into the arms of Lucien. A man shrouded in mystery, rebellion and danger. His very presence tells her to run but it also gives her the solace she craved.She never expected to see him again after she ran, forgetting his sinful existence, but life wasn't done making a joke out of her.Lucien isn't just any man, but one who can destroy everything she believes in. The man she was never meant to meet. Her husband's uncleThe black sheep of the Volkov dynasty. A man whose desire will ruin her. Lucien knows she can't be his, but he was never a man who respected social norms. He doesn't care about anything but her every sin and touch.All he wants… is her, no matter how sinful it gets.

Su Ming obtained the full occupation system, omniscient and omnipotent, and accepted ten apprentices on the mountain according to the system tasks.

Ten years later, the system can finally let him go down the mountain.

Only then did he discover;

His eldest apprentice became an urban killer

The second apprentice is the richest man in the world,

The three apprentices are the Huaxia Soldiers

……

- 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.”