PREVIEW

... protagonist was a noble's son who fell secretly in love with a maid in his house. When this fact was discovered by the protagonist's father, the enraged father attempted to kill the maid. In response, the maid's lover set the house on fire and killed the master before fleeing.

The protagonist, now turned into a fugitive chasing the maid who caused the death of his parents and turned their household into ruins by setting it ablaze, appeared as if he pursued the escaped maid and her lover ...

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Introduction 1: The villagers, when mentioning Zhuang Qingning who had no parents, then fell ill and chose to live on her own rather than being fostered by her uncle’s family, they sighed and shook their heads, thinking she was paving her own way to death.

But who would have thought, she started a workshop, bought a shop, built a house, lived comfortably raising dogs and cats, and everyone who got close to her flourished financially?

The villagers: Is it too late to get in good graces with the God of Wealth now? Awaiting your response, it’s quite urgent……

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Introduction 2: Everyone in the capital city sighed over the good fortune of the Prince Qi, who was unparalleled in his beauty, for he followed the wishes of the late queen and married an ordinary rural girl, thereby giving up an ideal marriage.

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All the people: Excuse me, is it too late to start shipping this couple now?

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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.”