MTL - After Emptying the Enemy’s Warehouse, He Carried Supplies To Survive the Disaster Years - Chapter 212 Leaving the castle at midnight

Ji Yan discovered his wife, who hated him so much that she wished he was dead, had lost her memory after a car crash. She had changed so much it was like she was a totally different person…

When he goes to work: “Dear, don’t move, I’ll put on your shoes for you.”

When he is having a meal: “Dear, I have made all of your favourite dishes. You have worked hard, so eat up.”

When he finished work: “Dear, you have worked all day. I’ll massage your shoulders and feet.”

Ji Yan: “…”

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Tang Tang got pushed into the pond by her step sister who frequently bullied her. She thought she would meet her dead mother but, who knew, when she opened her eyes again, she was in a strange place. But what made her happy was that she had a super handsome husband and a very cute son. The most important thing was that her husband was good. He was a hero who protects the country, and earns money to support her and their son. Also, he only has her as his wife, he didn’t have any concubines or whatsoever. Tang Tang decided she should be submissive to her husband, to be a good wife and a loving mother. Her nanny no longer needed to worry about her not being able to get married anymore!

- 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.”

Once an imperial princess, now reborn among the lowest of s*aves of the nobility.