Fate's Little Feral Consort - Chapter 1502

Flatten the Devil's Palace, eradicate the demonic cult, slaughter the demon lairs, sweep through the demon realm, dominate the heavens and earth, control the three realms, be the supreme master of the mysterious sect, master of the Nine Yin, the 17th head of the North Star Sword Sect, the Heavenly Fiend Lone Star, the Supreme Sword Soul, the Supreme Infinite Mysterious Heavenly Wishful Great Sword Patriarch... Also known as Iron Egg, known for the wild history of relentless killing.

Shao Qing’s only regret in life is that she blindly fell in love with a worthless man. She gave up everything for him, but in exchange was run over by his conniving mistress when she was close to her delivery date. Fortunately, Heaven left her a way. Crimson rain fell from the sky, the end of the world arrived, she resurrected in the morgue and gave birth to a little monster. Turning into a half human, half zombie freak; her son neither human, nor monster; they have no other choice but to rely on zombies’ crystal nuclei to develop their special abilities and continue living. This debt, she’ll definitely repay that cheating couple!

In her previous life, she wrongly loved a scumbag, but was killed by him. Once reborn, she vowed to let him be forever.

On the day of the wedding, the director got married by mistake as soon as she got out of the sedan chair, but she didn’t want to leave the wolf’s den and enter the tiger’s den again.

“If you enter this king’s door, you will belong to this king.” He swore domineeringly, declaring his ownership of her.

“Concubine Ai, this king has no children yet, so the important task of inheriting the lineage can be left to you.” She bet on her innocence, he helped her to avenge her, and each got the good deal they needed, but in the end, it turned out to be a fake.

Do, make it real?

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”