Xianxia: My Disciples Are Insane! - Chapter 450 - Ye Xuantian’s Scheme

The whole world mutated. Mysterious resurrections happened in real life. The Tribulation descended.

While the blue light blossoms, the insignificant struggle at the bottom. He grasps the opportunity to change his fate and embarks on an unprecedented path…

In order to avoid marrying an old man from the neighboring county, she must run away. The first time she escaped, the general entered the city, and she rolled and fell in front of him, no, she kneeled in front of him (really not on purpose). The second time she escaped, the general came to visit her house, and the general caught her (he must have done it on purpose). The third time, she was bruised and battered, almost desperate, and he came galloping and took her into his arms. (He was very well-intentioned.) The general said, ” Although I do not want to hold a favor to you, it is true that you owe me a favor.” So? 

 An Ruochen is unwilling to submit to fate and meets General Long three times when she runs away from home. She expects to get help from a powerful man, but she is involved in a secret conspiracy instead. Vicious family, a missing younger sister, a mysterious spy, and power struggles. An Ruochen becomes the key to solving the mysteries and becomes the core of General Long’s heart. 

One sentence synopsis: The right person at the right time changes everything.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”