Zhanxian (Immortal Executioner) - Chapter 20: I can Guide You

The chairman of the White House of ‘City A’ and his wife died in a plane crash, leaving their 3-year-old orphan with a large fortune. The relatives were trying their best to cheat the girl and enter the house to get ahold of it. But who knew that the ’10 billion-dollar doll’ would have chosen her father, or also known as the city’s most popular guy, on her own…

Luo Sheng: “f*ck, I’m not doing it!”

Yinyin: “Daddy, hug!”

Luo Sheng: “….”

A few days later —

“F*ck, who dares to bully my daughter? I won’t let him get away with this!”

- Description from Novelupdates

She remembers him because of the mole at the corner of his eyebrow;He remembers her simply because she is her.Every passing encounter becomes a story in the memory,And you are the ending of my story.

In the 21st century, Wu Yue originally thought she was a lonely ghost, but she didn’t know that she was from the 1980s until she was reborn back to her own body.

After all these years of losing her soul, she has always been a fool.

Her father also ordered her a baby kiss?

The other party is still the sweet pastry that everyone wants to marry.

Wu Yue, who has been nurtured in the new era, decided to get rid of this fiance who thought she was a fool.

But she didn’t expect that there was a tall person waiting for her in front of her.

The new book has been opened, {the world is not as good as you}

- 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.”