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... found out his family's assets.

   However, with a god-level anti-sign-in system, he is sitting on countless rewards every day, where can he see it.

   "Little Hei, Pindao is a Taoist from Zhuoguangshan Lingshuguan, not a gangster who robs."

   Zhang Ming said solemnly, "This Jiaozu inheritance, as well as these treasures, keep it."

   Hei Jiao was stunned for a moment, and his eyes were moved.

   Zhang Ming looked out and added: "That night pearl, just give me ...

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Having attended the triple combo of an all-girls middle school, high school, and university wasn’t enough of a debuff, having unintentionally put up an iron defense, I’ve been in ‘forever alone’ mode for 25 years. On top of that, I’ve possessed the Saint seldom played due to her atrociously difficult route! This life is screwed up, and I’m sure of it.

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[Entertainment Circle + Live Streaming + Wilderness Survival + Sick Jiao + Mutual Pet Sweet Text + Infrastructure]

Dayan’s first female emperor crossed over, and as soon as she opened her eyes, she became an 18th-tier actress of the same name, participating in a variety show of survival in the wilderness.

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Su Yangyang: I am indeed incompetent.

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Netizen 1: What the hell is lack of ability? ? ?

Netizen 2: Sister Yang yyds! ! !

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Su Yangyang: Men are really annoying.

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Su Yangyang: Mosquito bites, it was a misunderstanding.

Bo Yingdi forwarded: @Su Yangyang. I heard that my name was changed to Mosquito?

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- Description from novelbuddy

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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.”