Catastrophe Card King - Chapter 93 - 61 Sunny

As an actress with solid skills yet stuck as a third or fourth-tier minor celebrity, Song Ci fell down on her way to an audition. When she woke up, she found herself turned into a fabulously wealthy Old Madam, living a life of eating and waiting for death!Song Ci declared she couldn't accept such a beginning for her script!But since she's already in this situation, she might as well act it out. After all, as the proverb goes: Life is a play, and it's all about acting!The new book “The Young Lady Who Never Seeks Progress” is now serializing~

Just as Ye Fan got dumped by a gold-digger, he received a call from the hospital. Little did he expect that, ten months ago on one fateful night, he and his crush Bai Susu did something unspeakable… From that moment on, he embarked on the path of a doting dad… Pampering his wife, spoiling his kids… Unlimited affection!“Hello, Mr. Ye Fan, your wife is about to give birth in the hospital, hurry over to sign the paperwork!” An urgent voice sounded from the phone.“What, what’s going on, kid, and wife?” Ye Fan was utterly bewildered at that moment.… Just got dumped, then his biggest crush came knocking on his door.From then on, he embarked on the journey of spoiling his wife, spoiling his kids, unlimitedly! They had a grand wedding, everyone in town joined in the love fest! As the saying went, good things should be shared together, not alonel! So, let’s all enjoy the love fest together!

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.”