My Genius Sister is Only Seven!? - Chapter 7

Her grandfather was the emperor’s respected teacher, with disciples all over the world.

Her mother was well-read in poetry since childhood and was the most talented woman in the previous dynasty.

Her father started from nothing and gained the emperor’s favor, rising to Minister of Personnel.

Li Mingwei was an unrivaled noblewoman in the capital city.

A mistaken marriage let her see through worldly affairs. She fled the hustle and bustle and returned to live in her countryside residence, choosing a different kind of life.

By the side of the blue stone road, that person had stood still for a long time. He held an umbrella and reached out a hand to her.

There was a time where I was summoned to a different world. I spent more than a year as a Priestess from a different world. I fulfilled my role and decided to return to my original world. Before leaving, I confessed my feelings to my escort knight. And from there I was heartbroken. After returning to the original world for a year and half, I was summoned again. What? Apparently this time, nobody summoned me. I was sent out to a great extent and have a lost love. I cannot face anyone now! No one knows that I was a former Priestess and I can only quickly return to my original world. Even so, it does not seem to work out very well…

When Coach Ethan saw Emma for the first time, he was attracted by her. It was a girl's breath. Emma is very stupid in learning to drive, but Ethan is very patient and let Emma sit on the coach to practice driving. This kind of close-up...

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.”