His Peasant Wife : Yao Ling - Chapter 362 The Performance 4

If I calm down, the whole world will bow down! !

Every fighter is his tool to make money. The Lord of War is what people call him.

But he prefers to be called a businessman, a standard-bearer who leads special business to the top!

“The most meaningful thing I have done in my life is to depose Locke Martin!” – “World People Weekly”.

- Description from novelbuddy

Zara Monroe, a girl in her Early twenties. aspiring author, wakes up the day after her mother’s funeral in a world where humans don't exist and the powerful wolf kings reign supreme. To her shock, she’s swept into the plot of her own unwritten romantasy novel.But this isn't just fantasy—Zara is now living the life of her heroine, a girl fated to die at the hands of the Lycan Twins, the ruthless rulers of the werewolf world and her destined mates.With her life hanging in the balance, Zara must rewrite her fate before it’s too late. Can she change the deadly course of her own story, or will she be trapped forever in the world she created?……..#ReverseHarem#LycanKings#ParallelWorld#WhyChooseTroupe

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.”