Rebirth of the Film Emperor's Beloved Wife - Chapter 90.1 - Goodnight, Sweetheart

Liang Ning had just bid farewell to her eldest and second eldest brothers who died on the battlefield, never expecting that when she was preparing to fulfill a marriage contract with an orphan she saved six years ago, she would be burned alive by him!Upon waking, she became Miss Fu of the Fu Family, and her murderer had already risen to a high position, surrounded by beautiful wives and concubines, becoming a trusted minister before the emperor...No fear!Miss Liang of the Liang Family changes lanes, still the decisive and ruthless Rashamon!But why does that brat, who used to play around with her nephew and knew nothing about respecting elders, keep pestering her?

“God of Contracts: Strongest Businessman” is a story set in a vast universe where magic and business intersect. It follows a determined entrepreneur who aims to build an unassailable empire. The narrative is rich with diverse extraterrestrial races, each playing a role in the complex world of trade and alliances. The protagonist faces challenges beyond contracts, including the need for strength and supernatural abilities. As the story progresses, business and power become intertwined, leading to a climactic showdown that will decide the fate of their empire and the intergalactic order.

This is my debut novel, so I appreciate your patience. The initial chapters may be average, but I promise you'll witness an improvement in my writing as the story progresses.

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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.”

Death, Depression, Poverty, Love issues – all things that a 27-year no-name writer faces.