A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines - Chapter 728 Judge the Disloyal - III

Cultivation is about refining oneself and one's heart.The heavens and earth are the furnace, creation is the work, yin and yang are the carbon, the myriad paths are the copper, and with a steadfast Dao heart, one can refine a Primordial Dao Fruit.Refining pills, refining tools, refining formations, refining talismans, refining swords, refining souls, refining medicine, refining plagues, refining demons, refining devils, refining the heart, refining worlds, refining the Dao...Everything in nature can be refined!This is what Xuan Qing says.If you provoke him, he will even refine the Heavenly Dao to show you!Of course, this all began the day he joined the Jie sect...

Qiao Anhao and Lu Jinnian had secretly longed for each other for thirteen years, and now that there’s a possibility for them to be together, even though the circumstances may be unconventional, neither one can refuse their inner desires any longer.

Hurled into a false marriage, Qiao Anhao treads carefully towards the cold and reclusive Lu Jinnian, but after years of near-missed opportunities and deep misunderstandings, how could their last shot at love possibly run smooth?

“Nation Husband” is a Korean term awarded to a man who is perfect in the eyes of the public – an ideal husband.

When I came to, I woke up as fully loaded with death flags Villainess.

I finally got reborn with a healthy body, so I will live in happiness!

First, I’m thinking of improving my relationship with the family to systematically crush the death flags.

Called the Saint of Meat, Shrine Maiden, Savior, and even Goddess, her titles keep pointlessly increasing!

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.”