My Co-renting Lady Boss - Chapter 767 - 0: My Brother Has Arrived?

To pick is to choose. This is a story about choices. Three thousand worlds full of gods and demons, with a daoist scroll in your hand, you are able to control the entire universe…

The holographic online game BOSS, Su Jiameng, crossed over from the game and discovered that she had turned from an abusive BOSS into a battered supporting character!In front, there's the scheming eldest sister reborn for revenge.Behind, there's the second sister with the all-powerful Mary Sue halo.Below, there are two little troublemakers causing mischief.Can't a person live a good life?Su Jiameng: My goal is to conquer the stars and seas with my son, refusing to engage in palace battles...Someone smiled and said: Sure, Xiao Meng, you earn money to support the family, I'll be responsible for being beautiful, how about it?Su Jiameng: “...”

Everyone had the right to choose his or her life. Maybe many people wanted to live an ordinary life, but Qin Sheng didn’t want to be a mediocre man. He had practiced martial arts under the guidance of his grandfather in the Zhongnan Mountains since he was a child. After two years’ wandering life, he decided to settle in Shanghai, so he contacted Han Guoping, a rich businessman, and took the job as his daughter’s safeguard. He thought that he only needed to protect Han Bing. However, things seemed more complicated. He got to know that Han Guoping offended a powerful figure and his life might be in danger. What would Qin Sheng do to help the Han family? Would he turn the tables?

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.”