VRMMO: The Unrivaled - Chapter 11: Gui Guzi

Description For a million worth of contract, she became a surrogate mother. He was the chief executive of the Empire and she was of lowly birth. With her adoptive father’s business falling into crisis, she agrees to his contract. She gave birth to twins: the older brother is healthy, while the younger brother didn’t breathe out. Fulfilling the contract with a huge monetary sum as the reward, she disappeared from his eyes. Six years later – he was still the cold high-profile president, but when she is accidentally imprisoned in the cage of his golden birds he pressured her harder and harder: “Woman, do not think you can escape my hands!” The old-fashioned man: “Mu Yazhe, you’d better leave her alone, this is the child’s mother!” The man becomes frightened, questioning the reason this child’s features bears such resemblance to… Associated Names 一胎二宝：亿万首席爱妻入骨

He is a legendary business powerhouse, a King with a business empire. She is just an ordinary female student. A deal, – a paper marriage, a marriage for four years. Four years later, she turned away fearlessly. She thought that their path would never cross again, but he took her in his stride and refused to let go of everything about her, even interfering with her getting close to other men!

Back to the end of Ming Dynasty, he was reduced to a slave.

This emperor, a beggar can do it, a slave can do it, a bandit can do it, but a house slave can’t do it?

- 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.”