The Spearmaster and the Black Cat - Chapter 30: Intermission- Yui

In my previous life, I was merely a supporting character, highlighting Damon’s deep love for another woman.Tragically, my story unfolded with devastating consequences, leaving my family in ruins and my life shattered.Upon my rebirth, I chose to adopt a carefree attitude, ignoring the situation and waiting for Damon to ask for a divorce. But something peculiar happened. The man who used to disappear for weeks suddenly started showing up every few days.“Do you think there will come a time when you’ll want me to disappear?” I queried.“Do not indulge in fantasies.” he retorted,“We’ll continue to torment each other until the end.” I sighed, as a reincarnated soul, confident that his destined soulmate would soon cross his path.Finally, he encountered her, and I believed freedom was within my grasp. Yet, he quietly…

Su Yao, who was clearly a real daughter but died, was reborn.

In her last life, she swallowed her anger, and then she was cruel and cruel.

No one would think it would be too fishy to suck her blood.

Once again, she will be the last month, crowned with pearls, shining brightly.

Someone followed behind her while digging a hole for her, and painstakingly persuaded her:

Without so much effort, do you see the crown on my head?

You are the most gorgeous one above.

- Description from novelbuddy

In the waves of steam and machinery, who could achieve extraordinary? In the fogs of history and darkness, who was whispering? I woke up from the realm of mysteries and opened my eyes to the world.

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.”