Daily Intelligence System: Financial Independence - Chapter 126 - 111: The Bezoar Has an Owner, Sold for 1.49 Million!

Qinghe County master Gu Sheng died. She had a first class beauty, her name could move the world, but she still lost to the hands of a woman inferior to her. Gu Sheng was only able to understand that she was the antagonist of the heroine after her death, a cannon fodder.

In a pure white space, Gu Sheng was expressionless because of the transmigration.

System: “The heroine must change her fate, must fight against cannon fodder and the passerby to brush a sense of existence. As the master, you are their biggest stone in the way.”

Gu Sheng’s eyes flashed and made a peerless smile, “Then let me see who is the stumbling block that should be trampled and who is the final winner!”

- Description from Novelupdates

The pessimistic and negative daughter of a concubine living in the ancient times thought – since life is so difficult, why should one invest serious effort in struggling to live?

The life of an ancient noble woman is often determined and controlled by her family. Moreover, one’s actions often implicate one’s entire family – thus, it is fairly common to see an unexpected calamity result in suffering borne by one’s whole family. Managing to live a good and successful life while retaining one’s dignity is simply too difficult to achieve.

Ah, living in the ancient times is simply too dangerous – we should all just sleep till we die.

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.”