Dual Cultivation - Chapter 62: A Wealthy Gues

It is the day of her long-awaited debutante at the age of 15.

Marshallie Gracis, a Viscount’s daughter, witnesses her own fiancé kneeling before another woman and begging for her love.

She was saddened by the unexpected scene of the affair, but her fiancé offered no excuse or apology. She thought the engagement would be broken off, but it wasn’t even that, and the next thing she knew, 10 years had passed without her being married…

25-year-old Marsha had given up on the idea of getting married to become the queen’s maid of honor.

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In the Comprehensive Martial Arts Continent, five great empires vie for supremacy!In the jianghu, Land Immortals reign supreme, their power overshadowing all living beings.However, when Bai Chen descends upon this world, everything changes, and the entire narrative takes an unprecedented turn!Feilu reminds readers: This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real individuals or events is purely coincidental. Please do not attempt to imitate.

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.”