My Master Only Breaks Through on the Edge of Death - Chapter 1514 - 1491: Overwhelming Support_1

She found that her fiance was sick and squeamish, but it was a little expensive to raise.
The poor and poor high-level bosses have to make money to support their husbands while accumulating merits.
Then, he went to the construction site to move bricks and was caught by his husband. He set up a stall at the door to tell fortunes and was carried back by his husband. He went out to catch demons and was carried back by his husband.
The big devil is very distressed, what should my husband do if he always wants to keep her at home?
Yu Chao is rich and Huaizhi is helpless, what should the little girl always like to go to dangerous places?

- Description from novelbuddy

Zhou Youlin, a famous ice queen of the special forces. During an accident in her mission, she was betrayed by her squad mates and was shot twice. She died on the spot. When she woke up again, she became the useless madam of a rice family and was a resentful wife who was neglected by her husband. Her son, too, was neglected.“If I’m not mistaken, we’re already divorced. You’re currently invading my home, my dear ex.” Zhao Youlin raised her chin and sat at the end of the couch with her legs folded. She looked prideful.Mu Tingfeng was expressionless. “We can get married again.”Zhou Youlin quirked her eyebrows. Then, she swung her hand, and a large number of handsome men’s pictures were spread on the table.“Baby, be a good boy and choose someone you like to be your stepdaddy, okay?”Mu Tingfeng’s expression… turned dark.

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.”