I Don't Want to Get Hurt, So I'll Max Out My Defense - Chapter 442: 443: Battle Among the Top Contenders

They say marriage is one of the greatest joys you’ll experience in life, but what does it say about your marriage when you can’t remember a single moment with the man you married?Veronica experiences the strangest thing one day when she wakes up in a hospital room without any memory of how she got there. She is introduced to her family who appear warm and loving at first but she soon gets a glimpse of how they want to use her for her money.Veronica is then surprised when a man enters the room and it is revealed he is not only her husband but a big hotshot businessman whose face is all over the news. She doesn’t understand how she got herself tangled up with such a man and later questions the accident which led to her losing her memories.What happens when her once perfect marriage isn’t as it was portrayed to be or when she realises family doesn’t always care about you?

Teela married King Heavenly because she loved him, but life in the Heavenly household was anything but euphoric. Lettie, her hard-as-nails mother-in-law, treats her like an unpaid servant. The family treats her like an outsider. King treats her like a shadow, transparent and forgettable.When Lettie presses Teela to prove her value to the family or get out, Teela has a decision to make. But she’s not leaving without a fight.King Heavenly rules Heavenly Industries with an iron fist, but he leaves his home life to his mother to manage, and that includes the management of his boring little wife. Teela has never complained. She’s never done anything interesting, for that matter. She’s just one more responsibility in a long line of responsibilities that King shoulders on a daily basis, and that is exactly how he treats her — as a responsibility that he’s delegated to his mother.Suddenly Teela steps out of the shadows and into a fight with him and his whole family, and King is baffled by the ruthless actions of his now daring wife. He’d always heard that vengeance is a dish best served cold, but Teela is coming in hot!

Traversing into another world, Zhang Xuan finds himself becoming an honorable teacher.

Along with his transcension, a mysterious library appears in his mind.

As long as it is something he has seen, regardless of whether it is a human or an object, a book on its weaknesses will be automatically compiled in the library.

Thus, he becomes formidable.

“Emperor Zhuoyang, why do you detest wearing your underwear so much? As an emperor, can’t you pay a little more attention to your image?”

“Fairy Linglong, you can always look for me if you find yourself unable to sleep at night. I am skilled in lullabies!”

“And you, Demon Lord Qiankun! Can you cut down on the garlic? Are you trying to kill me with that stench?”

This is an incredible story about teachers and students, grooming and guiding the greatest experts in the world!

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”