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... e Ashbourne stood at the foot of the judgment platform, her delicate frame trembling.

She looked like a wilting flower, her white curls disheveled, her lips bitten raw from pleading. Yet her diamond eyes burned only for him.

Duke Raphael Everhart, the ruthless warlord, stood at the throne, his face an unreadable mask of cold authority.

The man who had once threatened to burn entire cities for defying him now held the fate of a woman in his hands.

But not Evelyne's ...

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There is a very strange restaurant in the City of Sin.

Elves and dwarves must share a table, orcs are strangely well behaved, dragons are only welcomed on the small square in front of the restaurant, and the demons must bring their own stool.

This strange restaurant with their strange rules continuous to attract a long line of customers.

“This place serves the best food! The chef of this restaurant is a genius!” Some of the guests in the restaurant left glowing reviews. But these guests have a word of warning for other guests, “No matter what you do, never, never attempt to kidnap the boss or try to ‘eat and run’. You will die.”

A cute little girl stood near the door, and demanded in her tiny voice, “You have eaten the food, now pay up, or I will beat you to death.” The five-meter tall dragon suddenly felt a chill running up its spine.

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She killed his wife, destroyed his reputation, and ran off with his son. 8 years later, she returned home with her genius son, who already had a fiancée. “Give me the child, or you can’t afford the price.”“A girl who eats meat and vegetables doesn’t suffer, if you want a child, find yourself a woman to give you one.”

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“Hurry to the hospital and donate your blood.” “Go to the hospital at once.” “Remember to donate blood at the hospital.” Even if she had already been donating blood for three times in the past few months, which then took a toll on her body, Huo Chuan never felt an ounce of pity for his so-called wife. After three years of marriage, Huo Chuan would only ever contact her to ask her to donate her blood to the hospital. No, accurately speaking, she was selling her blood. Selling it to Huo Chuan’s beloved woman, Bai Ting.

Yun Qing had been working hard to play the role of a good wife and secretary, but Huo Chuan’s family thought nothing of her. They were enigmatic and petty toward her. Yun Qing even had to do all the cleaning and cooking alone at home. Her existence was so menial that one would even assume she was a maid. In the company, everyone underestimated her. Yun Qing had had enough so she said, “Let’s divorce.” Perhaps she still had hope, but her husband’s reaction completely disappointed her. “What are you throwing a tantrum for? Name your price. The doctor says that Bai Ting is in a critical condition!” Huo Chuan’s mother said, “A lowly secretary like you should be grateful that you married into our Huo family, so why are you making a fuss?” Huo Chuan stared down at her. “I know that you’ve donated more blood this month, but I’ve transferred you the compensation fee! I can tolerate you asking for more, but I won’t tolerate your tantrum!” Looking at Huo Chuan’s mesmerizing features, Yun Qing laughed at herself. He was indeed charming, but he had never ever shown her a pleasant expression. Enduring the pain in her heart, Yun Qing insisted on going through the divorce with Huo Chuan. “Don’t you regret this, Yun Qing!” “Huo Chuan, the only thing I regret is agreeing to this marriage with you three years ago. This marriage had me all battered and bruised. Enough is enough!” For Huo Chuan, she gave up her status and ignored her family’s advice. She pounced at Huo Chuan like a moth to flames, only to receive his indifference and lack of affection in return.

After Yun Qing left the Huo family, she got into a luxurious car. Old Master Yun’s heart ached for his daughter. “Qingqing, you had a three-year agreement with me, that if he doesn’t love you, you will come home and inherit the company. Now, it’s time to uphold your promise.”

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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.”