My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 409: A Rising Bomb

Why did going to the supermarket to buy vegetables end up transporting her to the 1970s, where she became the aunt her mother despised the most? She initially thought living in the 1970s would mean experiencing dire poverty, struggling from meal to meal. Fortunately, her grandfather was a devoted revolutionary, her grandmother adored her granddaughters, her father was indulgently affectionate towards his daughters, and her mother was harsh in words but soft in heart. Her uncles and aunt were exceedingly kind to her, and she even had a wealthy mother abroad and a father from a family with deep cultural roots. Wasn't this the prelude to living like a princess? With the advantages of the right time, place, and people, why did her life as the aunt still turn out so miserably in her previous life?A newcomer to rural 1972, Tian Sisi thought destiny wanted her to strive and be inspired, but in reality, it directed her towards a path of happiness and well-being. This story features a touch of levity, inspiration, struggle, and freshness. The female protagonist is no pushover.The new novel 'Spoilt Wife in the Sixties' has started, featuring a sweet romance tale, one-on-one.

Transmigrating to the disciples of the Demon Sect, and relying on the skill modifier to become a giant of the Demon Dao.

[Detected the technique “Blood Nerve”, relying on devouring blood to practice]

[Side effects: easily affected by the spirit contained in the blood, becoming bloodthirsty, bloodthirsty, mad, and even brain dead]

[Please wait a moment, the system is being modified…]

[Ding! The modification is complete, and the side effects are cancelled]

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”

I transmigrated into a novel that I was reading.“But of all people, why did it have to be Kamon Vade?!”The problem here is this: the character I transmigrated as was a third-rate villain who appeared at the beginning of the original story, but after he had been accused of attacking the imperial princess, he disappeared and left the stage.“Haah, fine. The novel never said that I died anyway. So, I just need to somehow hold out and endure in the academy, right?”But…Maybe because I refused to exit the novel, ‘death’ keeps following me around.‘Motherfxxxer, this is like the fantasy novel version of Final Destination!’Damn it, I have to survive somehow.And I will! No matter what!