Real Rich Daughter's Path Of Counterattack - Chapter 58 - Mediation

The contract says she can’t share his bed, but nothing stops him from getting into hers…Rain Clayton’s life takes an unexpected turn when she discovers she’s suddenly married to a billionaire named Alexander Lancaster, a powerful and dangerously captivating man who wants their marriage over before it even begins...Raised by a family that never cared for her and desperate to avoid a twisted arranged marriage, Rain seizes this unexpected twist of fate. Her new husband might be a cold-hearted billionaire, but he's her only escape. Yet Alexander demands a swift divorce.Refusing to lose her one chance at freedom, Rain strikes a risky bargain to keep their marriage alive, even if it means playing by Alexander’s rules. She just has to convince him to want her around… FOREVER.Weeks into their unexpected arrangement, Rain begins to see through Alexander’s icy exterior. But one night, she’s taken by surprise.“What are you doing?” Rain burst out, eyes wide as Alexander casually slid into her bed.“Performing husbandly duties,” he smirked.“You can’t stay here! It’s against the contract!”“I’m not breaking it,” Alexander said with a shrug. “The contract specifies that you’ll fulfill all wifely duties, excluding sharing my bed. It doesn’t say anything about me not performing husbandly duties, including sharing your bed.”The situation had shifted, and it seemed like she was no longer the only one in control...[Warning: r18+/strong mature & sexual content]

Li Xuan found himself in a predicament after transmigrating without the luxury of a system or plug-ins. To evade notice, he took refuge in a small mountain village. However, one day, he was mistaken for a reclusive expert, he was forcefully adopted as a master by an eager disciple who refused to take no for an answer.

Struggling with his moral compass, Li Xuan initially rejected the disciple’s proposal due to his commitment to honesty. Yet, faced with persistent insistence and tempting offers, he reluctantly crafted fictional cultivation techniques. Much to his astonishment, the disciple not only embraced these fabricated teachings but successfully cultivated with remarkable prowess.

Witnessing his disciple’s thunderous muscles, resilient bones, and potent vital force, Li Xuan couldn’t fathom the inexplicable success. Bewildered, he exclaimed, “I fabricated it all! How did you manage to cultivate so successfully? What kind of monster are you?”

To add to the perplexity, a mysterious Golden Finger manifested: “Your disciple mastered the technique you invented from scratch. Your flawless completion of the technique has enhanced your strength a hundredfold compared to others at the same level!”

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[Disclaimer:This is not a story for the faint-hearted. It explores the darkest aspects of humanity—where morality is shattered, and power takes its place. Most readers won’t have the courage to face this unrelenting descent into shadows.I'm once again telling you if you can't handle deaths and violence and you seek happiness then please do not even touch this Novel.But maybe, just maybe, you’re different. Strong enough to confront the abyss and see what lies beyond.if so Prove it.][Synopsis]:In a world teetering on the edge of chaos, seven empires vie for dominance, each more ruthless than the last. At the heart of this dark tapestry lies Narzan, a nation feared and despised, where cruelty is law and ambition a deadly game. The lands of mortals are but a fragile sanctuary, bordered by forbidden realms—the infernal Demon Realm, where nightmares are born; the accursed Lost Soul Realm, where the damned wander endlessly; and the enigmatic Elven Kingdom, shrouded in secrets and ancient power. These realms whisper of horrors and treasures that could reshape the very fabric of existence.Above it all looms the Weave of Magic, an ancient force that binds life, death, and destiny. It stirs ominously, its threads tangling with shadows of betrayal, vengeance, and destruction. In this world where the strong devour the weak, hope is a fleeting illusion, and mercy is a tale for the foolish.Veythor is a man cursed by the fates, his existence a relentless cycle of suffering. Across three lives, he has endured betrayal, torment, and death. On Earth, he was a man broken by those he trusted—betrayed by family, ruined by love, and condemned to die in despair. In his second life, he met an even crueler fate, falling prey to monsters in human form. But Thalvoria, his third life, is the cruelest of all.A vast and merciless world, Thalvoria is ruled by beings of unimaginable power. Here, mages can sunder mountains with a thought, empires rise and fall in rivers of blood, and forgotten gods slumber beneath the earth. Mythical beasts stalk cursed forests, and the lands themselves seem to hunger for suffering. In Thalvoria, even the heavens cast shadows, and every choice is a gamble with damnation.Yet Veythor, battered and scarred, refuses to succumb. Haunted by memories of his past lives, he begins to weave his pain into something more dangerous. Every betrayal fuels his resolve, every scar sharpens his will. As the balance of power begins to shift and the Weave of Magic tightens its grip on the world, Veythor sets his sights on a singular goal: to seize control of his cursed destiny, no matter the cost.But in a land where salvation and damnation are two sides of the same coin, what will remain of a man who refuses to die?When the world itself hungers for blood, Veythor will rise—or he will drag all of Thalvoria into the abyss with him.

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.”