The Kidnapped Bride - Chapter 212 - Emilys Parents!

Oops! The foolish real young master had run away!!!The title of the book…Micah had everything anyone could possibly envy, a gentle mother, a supportive father, and two doting older sisters. His family business dominated the capital with its high-technology products, and he was raised with a silver spoon from birth. Life was perfect. Until one day everything crumbled when a young man appeared, claiming to be the real young master.The classic case of swapped at birth…Panicked and heartbroken, Micah, the fake heir, fought desperately to hold onto his family and fortune.From Bad-mouthing and spreading rumours to initiating misplaced hatred toward the real young master, he plotted financial pitfalls and implicated his family business in progress. Not to mention his backstabbing and selling the classified information to a rival company.“What the actual f..?”Micah stared at the book, seething with anger.He was practically a villain out of a melodrama.He would never be like that! Which vengeful ghost had written this book?!“Where is my knife?!”He needed to show this so-called author the true meaning of vengeance!Even if he couldn’t get his hands on him, at the very least, he could undermine all the nonsense that was written in his book! Whether would he really be this mentally handicapped as described in the book remained a mystery, but please could someone explain the rest of the book to him?Those madmen!Those Degenerated Gongs!How could they torment the cheerful sunny Shou and twist him into an obedient meek little puppet just to satisfy their sick desires?!“I, Micah Ramsy, swear to protect my new brother from those psychos and hungry wolves!”Thus begins the journey of the fake heir, hell-bent on keeping those scums away from his sweet brother.

The Empire's forces retreated in desperation—trampled by faceless horrors bringing darkness and death to these once beautiful lands.Only the most courageous stood in defiance, forming a last defence to buy the people time to flee—fighting until the final embers of hope burned out.A man stands with a silver sword, like a beacon of hope to those around him. He roared with all his might drawing his blade against the overwhelming enemy!“You face Lancelot, Sword of the Empire! ”These horrors tested the Lord's grit and loyalty in the final moments.“Should my blade break, I will use my body!”The knights had fallen, broken swords for their tombstones, and lords fled, betraying the Empire to survive.“If my body breaks, I'll use my Soul!”Lancelot, the sword of the Empire, fought alone.All hope seemed lost.“And if my Soul fails...”What could a single man and his army do?He fights against the dark tide, blade in hand, heart on sleeve.“I will sell myself to the devil for revenge!”But he was too weak, too fragile.The last Lord of humanity stood against the enemy.Lancelot was a master of the sword, a mortal, neither a God nor a Saint.Miracles were beyond his reach.Now only a broken man impaled on his own destroyed throne.His blade shattered—now, like rose petals, it was scattered across the charred ground.Lancelot's soul was fated for the abyss as the light faded from his eyes.His last ounce of resistance used staring at the man who betrayed the Empire.Now with only the desire to kill, crush and seek revenge smouldering inside him.Now unwilling to die and desperate to fight once again.He desired to fight for the people who supported him.Lancelot refused to surrender, to fall like this.As quietly in the abyss, a voice whispered to him.It tried to entice the Lord, ignite his desire to win and fight again.“If given a second chance, to relive your life with a different choice... Would you Accept?”Blood gathered in his throat, forcing him to reply in his mind.A frail and broken voice'There is no reason to ask, of course!'“No matter the cost?”'Even if I were to lose everything...''If my people can live on. I would sacrifice everything I have!'“You will no longer be the same, a monster, twisted and vicious.”“Will you still accept?”The Lord's heart ached, taking great pride in his humanity.To lose that caused his mind to falter.Finally, out of power, unable to speak or reply with a trembling arm.Lancelot reached out.Towards the raspy voice.Towards the abyss.Towards a new future.[So you would accept after all...]'I must accept.''I must stand tall.''I must not break.''Because...''I am the Lord of humanity![Nay, you are the king of demons]

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.”

Song Shi came to a fairy world where demons and ghosts danced wildly. He thought he was going to walk a trembling road of cultivating immortals, but he awakened the death flow system, which gained power from death and became stronger every time he died.

The style of painting suddenly changed. Others practice immortality to seek immortality, but he is not dead, so he can only seek immortality by dying. He is either trying to die or looking for death along the way.

“You have been killed by Yin spirits 10 times, awaken the spiritual root of fire!”

“You have been killed by zombies 10 times, awaken your natural power!”

“You have lost your mind and died 10 times, and you have awakened your Taoist heart!”

“You were killed by the formation, the level of the formation is +1!”

“You die in an alchemy blast furnace, your alchemy level +1!”

Pure Yang Spiritual Body, Nine Yang Divine Body, Sun Holy Body; Vajra Spiritual Body, Golden Divine Body, Desolate Ancient Holy Body; Psychic Sword Body, Innate Dao Body; Formation Master, Alchemy Master…

It’s so much fun on the road of cultivation, constantly unlocking death poses, step by step to the top of the fairy road…

Many years later, it was rumored in the world that when Song Shi died, the immortals were terrified, the demons trembled, and ten thousand Buddhas retreated!

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