Martial King's Retired Life - Volume 11 Chapter 06 Shamans Also Have Their Own Philosophies. Material Desires that are Tough to Obtain.

One morning, Gu Tiantian wakes up to find her innocence gone—and her temper flaring.Every time she glares at him, cheeks flushed with outrage, Bai Chenyao cocks an eyebrow.“You don’t want this?” he asks, voice cool.“I never did!” she snaps.His only rule: her consent is optional; his desire is not.Cue Gu Tiantian’s inner scream: Then why even ask, you iceberg?!PS:A genius CEO with zero EQ VS. a lovable, scatter-brained clerk.He thinks courtship is a hostile takeover; she thinks love shouldn’t come with fine print.Sparks fly, clothes vanish, and the “free pie” she never ordered keeps biting back—hilariously, endlessly, deliciously.

The life of the underworld was something Ashley had dreamed of escaping all her life. Born as a bastard from an affair between an underworld kingpin and a prostitute, Ashley was meant to die even before she was born. The only reason she survived was that her father thought she was a boy.From a young age, she understood that if she wanted to survive in this world of violence—on top of her father’s wife and daughter’s schemes—she had to be useful.So, she made herself a promise: one day, she would escape this world.Ashley almost succeeded… until her father found her again and thrust her into a marriage of convenience with his rival, Dominion, in his beloved daughter’s place.Everyone in the underworld knew Dominion.They were cruel, organized, and simply spawns of evil. And the man who stood above that power, Luciano, was said to be downright diabolical. Just their name alone could make anyone tremble.And this organization was where Ashley now had to survive.To make matters worse, the marriage also came with a child — Luciano’s mute heir.Forced to become the wife of one of the most violent and powerful underworld organizations, and the mother of its future leader, Ashley made a vow.“No matter what, I’ll escape this place!”But she would soon realize it wouldn’t be as simple as that. Not when the feared members of Dominion clung to her feet, begging,“Madam, don’t go!”And when the mute stepson finally spoke, “Mommy, if you’re leaving, please take me with you.”Finally, her diabolical, obsessive, and utterly territorial husband said,“I’ve packed our things. Where should we go?”

[Hello everyone, my name is Amamiya Ren. This might seem like an abrupt self-introduction, and honestly, I think so too.][In fact, when I first heard my own name, I had a bad premonition. Fortunately, I didn’t encounter Shido Masayoshi or Akechi Goro.][But when I discovered that the high school I was going to attend was called Teitan High School, I knew I was in trouble.][I thought I had successfully avoided the traitor, but I didn’t expect that I couldn’t escape the god of death either.][Then, as I dug deeper, I found out more information that made my heart race.][I learned about Shinomiya, who is as renowned as the Suzuki family, and Sanzenin, which surpasses both Suzuki and Shinomiya.][But none of that is the main point. It’s Teitan High School alone that made me want to start writing a diary.]Putting down his pen, the boy turned his gaze to the prize pool.Naruto, Bleach, One Piece, Katekyo Hitman Reborn, Negima! Magister Negi Magi, A Certain Magical Index, Persona, Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba, Marvel, Genshin Impact, Fate, High School DxD, Lord of the Mysteries…---All rights to the original content belong to their respective creators.Cover Pic: By akeisae, let me know in the comments if you want me to take it down.

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.”