Not your typical baby mama - Chapter 294 The Call She Had Been Avoiding

“Corpse Processing” is over, but the lord has a lot to write, so this is it.

A person is a mage.

Three people are a team.

A group of people is a territory.

A group of people is the rise of an era.

I, Karen Heise, want to lead an era. If you think you are young and self-motivated enough, send your resume here.

My address: Gold Flash Town, the center of the world.

- Description from novelbuddy

Died in the end times war, reborn as a commoner’s daughter in an ancient official’s family. The family scheming belongs to others, the fighting for favor belongs to others. Li Xia’s daily routine is just asking for monthly allowances from her auntie to spend on eating, drinking, watching opera, and living a carefree life.

After accidentally saving someone during the Lantern Festival, Li Xia’s carefree life is gone. During the day, she is a young lady of an official’s house who does not step out of the main or secondary gates, at night, she turns into a righteous hero who punishes villains and eliminates evils.

The system says that curing a person will get good doctor points, and killing a person will get bad doctor points. When the 100 points are reached, the skills of good doctors or bad doctors will be randomly selected.

Why do I always feel that bad doctors are better than good doctors…

Nani?

Does the captain’s orange count as a bad doctor’s skill?

You lie here and don’t move, I’m going to buy some oranges.

- 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.”