Addicted to you - Chapter 14: Strange dream

After Chu Zheng was inexplicably determined to have died, the only trouble she had was to spend money.

Since the binding of this system, her waist is not sour, her legs are not hurting, and the special ones are not breathing, and every day lives in the fear of having to spend money.

System: Miss Sister, don’t just open the invincible mode! (▼皿▼#)

System: We set a small goal, first spend a hundred million!

Chu Zheng: Say good and lose, how is this inexplicable man? Don’t stop me! I am going to conquer the world!

A male lord: (quickly renamed) my name is the world name.

#Sister, learn that you can really do whatever you want with enough money#

- Description from novelupdates

When I woke up, I had been reborn as a baby. My mother passed away and I was neglected by my father. Even though I was born in a Marquis family, my life started on a HARD MODE. But I won’t be discouraged. I will eat well, sleep well, move much, get whatever I can get and live happily.

Nine harmonic zither chords shook the universe, who dared to not acknowledge the lord?

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.”